I've already told you about the narcissist's obsession with the perfect love. Understand that I had no knowledge of my condition at the time. But don't think that I am apologizing for my condition either. On the contrary, high performing narcissists are not necessarily a liability to society as a whole, much as they may be a liability to themselves and those who love them.
I would go so far as to say that the qualities of a narcissist are absolutely essential to a well ordered society. High performing narcissists by definition are exceptional performers. Their need to protect their inflated sense of self-importance drives them on.
On the other hand, in my personal situation, I can be excused in my failure to be as selfishly in love with myself because I had recently been so thoroughly humbled. I had, in fact, turned on my own condition as a defense mechanism, but it showed itself in the undertakings that I undertook.
As a result of the destruction of everything I held dear, my reputation and my money in this case, I was freed to turn to a virtuous view of life. I began to pursue my dreams, and one of my dream was to be a writer. I had no support at home for this undertaking which was seen as a silly diversion from the need for me to rebuild my financial fortress which had been so absurdly risked in the pursuit of unreasonable growth.
But I pursued my writing anyway. Much of it was for what I considered socially valid purposes, without a financial target. I developed a new theory of quantum mechanics which, while clever, is not necessarily as important as I would like to think. Certainly, the most anti-narcissistic thing that I did was to prove to my own satisfaction the irrelevance of individual creativity in a universe where everything is predetermined, including creativity, but coming up with the process which incorporated so many unknowns (dark matter, the absence of bosons, unified fields, black holes and the like) and explained them so elegantly was something to be proud of even if I was only following a script which I could not change.
Narcissism is an offensive condition, but it is not the type of personality disorder that is necessarily self destructive or a danger to others. In fact, as you will see shortly, the anti-destructive forces which were to destroy my chance for happiness were a result of the narcissism which I did not realize until it was too late.
Still, it is a condition. The DSM-IV-TR defines the narcissistic personality disorder as 'an all-pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behaviour), need for admiration or adulation and lack of empathy, usually beginning by early adulthood and present in various contexts.'
According to this diagnostic manual, it is present when at least five of the following criteria are met:
- 1) has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)
- 2) is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
- 3) believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)
- 4) requires excessive admiration
- 5) has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations
- 6) is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends
- 7) lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others
- 8) is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her
- 9) shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes
I might add from my experience that this list describes the stereotypical medical doctor, aggressive business mogul, and successful trial attorney to say nothing of the mad scientists. In fact, I daresay that without the narcissistic tendencies of mankind, we would be huddled naked in trees to escape more confident predators. While such a world would be a better place for the rest of the non-microscopic animals excluding perhaps bed bugs and cockroaches, it would be dreary to the extreme.
I was, then, at this time a recovering narcissist. I had all nine of the tendencies in hibernation, but I had lost my arrogance along with my money, I had given up on envy because I had fallen too far to aspire to such worldly goals, I had adopted empathy for others because there seemed little reason not to sacrifice what was left of myself to my fellow man since my own soul was lost. Or so I thought, in fact it was soaring at the time. I had no sense of entitlement, the world having shown me that I would be treated ill, and so on.
But the disease remained and my exploitative nature was buried but not killed, waiting for the chance to dig out of its grave like a psychopathic zombie and terrorize the world again. I still fantasized about coming back from the abyss, and what a glorious thing that would be. And so, I did not recognize what I might be doing to others as I rebuilt my life from a sense of humility and awakening of spirit.
The story? Oh yes, the story.
You will remember I told you it happened on January 12, 1990 and was the last good decision I made. I was sick, I was a spectacle, but I was successful at the time. I drove a beautiful car, was quite a hand with the ladies. Too much so, in fact, I had gotten my wife to be pregnant. Rather than being the good sport and aborting the accident without telling me, I found myself the victim of an odd bit of extortion. My freedom for the opportunity to participate in raising my child, who was no accident, indeed not on her part. The fact that it was disreputable and sure to result in an unhappy union if any union was fashioned at all was not a consideration.
It was something of a predicament, the narcissism I know now was telling me that I had to do this thing which was of little interest to me. But there was another aspect of me that was thinking something else. It was thinking that I had been in love with only one woman for the last decade or so. What kind of fool would marry someone else? Now at this point in time, this woman I was in love with , the girl of whom I have spoken so often on this inhospitable night at this hospitable table, was quite engaged to someone else, someone successful, someone well matched to her. Anything that I was going to do in connection with that would be the height of absurdity.
And yet, I felt, I still feel, that my love was a pure as the purest mountain stream, untouched by man or beast running amid sand encased stones, surrounded by pure grasses and patches of newly melting snow.
And so I went to New Orleans, sick with the flu, my lips cracked as if I'd been in the desert without water for days, with my dreadful story of having trapped myself.
But what did you say, what was the last honest, good decision you made?
The stranger paused and sipped at the glass before him. He stared into the fire of the candle on the table, the wick yellow in its pool of melted wax. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
Controlling my symptoms with drugs, I went out with her. I told her my story as we drank and talked, remember, we had no closeness at this time, except that of old friends who had never dated, who had never had the chance to date for she was always involved with someone else, a string of lovers, the first far before I knew her, the one when we met the inviolate relationship with my best friend, and later before I knew she was free of that one with her current lover who I had never met but of whom I had never heard a bad word spoken.
She was drunk, I'm afraid, I was too scared to be drunk, for I saw my entire life in the balance. In the seat of the car, my nose and eyes running, my lips cracked as she began to say her goodbyes, I said to her, "I don't want this false marriage, I want to date you." Now I may have left the word false out, but the meaning was clear based on the talk that we had had. And with that i reached out to kiss her with my lips which were so badly damaged that it hurt to smile.
Pulling away from me, she said, "you're just scared and drunk. You don't know what you're talking about. And I am engaged to someone else." And then she was gone. I don't know whether she disappeared suddenly or whether she left slowly, fading away. I only saw the dreary clouds and the street stretching out before me, filled with people who were still alive, while I died. They slowly melted away before my eyes. I cried. Yes I cried, for everything I wanted in life had stepped out.
The next day I decided to go through with the marriage, there was nothing left for my heart, so my duty would be served.
When we talked the next day, she confessed ignorance when I apologized for my conduct the night before. "For what?" she asked. I told her it was nothing. It was as if it were some nightmare that I would never share with anyone else. The last plane out of Casablanca and I was not on it.
The story? Oh yes, the story.
You will remember I told you it happened on January 12, 1990 and was the last good decision I made. I was sick, I was a spectacle, but I was successful at the time. I drove a beautiful car, was quite a hand with the ladies. Too much so, in fact, I had gotten my wife to be pregnant. Rather than being the good sport and aborting the accident without telling me, I found myself the victim of an odd bit of extortion. My freedom for the opportunity to participate in raising my child, who was no accident, indeed not on her part. The fact that it was disreputable and sure to result in an unhappy union if any union was fashioned at all was not a consideration.
It was something of a predicament, the narcissism I know now was telling me that I had to do this thing which was of little interest to me. But there was another aspect of me that was thinking something else. It was thinking that I had been in love with only one woman for the last decade or so. What kind of fool would marry someone else? Now at this point in time, this woman I was in love with , the girl of whom I have spoken so often on this inhospitable night at this hospitable table, was quite engaged to someone else, someone successful, someone well matched to her. Anything that I was going to do in connection with that would be the height of absurdity.
And yet, I felt, I still feel, that my love was a pure as the purest mountain stream, untouched by man or beast running amid sand encased stones, surrounded by pure grasses and patches of newly melting snow.
And so I went to New Orleans, sick with the flu, my lips cracked as if I'd been in the desert without water for days, with my dreadful story of having trapped myself.
But what did you say, what was the last honest, good decision you made?
The stranger paused and sipped at the glass before him. He stared into the fire of the candle on the table, the wick yellow in its pool of melted wax. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
Controlling my symptoms with drugs, I went out with her. I told her my story as we drank and talked, remember, we had no closeness at this time, except that of old friends who had never dated, who had never had the chance to date for she was always involved with someone else, a string of lovers, the first far before I knew her, the one when we met the inviolate relationship with my best friend, and later before I knew she was free of that one with her current lover who I had never met but of whom I had never heard a bad word spoken.
She was drunk, I'm afraid, I was too scared to be drunk, for I saw my entire life in the balance. In the seat of the car, my nose and eyes running, my lips cracked as she began to say her goodbyes, I said to her, "I don't want this false marriage, I want to date you." Now I may have left the word false out, but the meaning was clear based on the talk that we had had. And with that i reached out to kiss her with my lips which were so badly damaged that it hurt to smile.
Pulling away from me, she said, "you're just scared and drunk. You don't know what you're talking about. And I am engaged to someone else." And then she was gone. I don't know whether she disappeared suddenly or whether she left slowly, fading away. I only saw the dreary clouds and the street stretching out before me, filled with people who were still alive, while I died. They slowly melted away before my eyes. I cried. Yes I cried, for everything I wanted in life had stepped out.
The next day I decided to go through with the marriage, there was nothing left for my heart, so my duty would be served.
When we talked the next day, she confessed ignorance when I apologized for my conduct the night before. "For what?" she asked. I told her it was nothing. It was as if it were some nightmare that I would never share with anyone else. The last plane out of Casablanca and I was not on it.
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