We know the tale of Narcissus, the lovely young man walking the wooded trails who spurned the attractions of one and all, including the delicately beautiful nymph Echo, crushing her sensitive spirit, but thereby incurring the wrath of the powerful Nemesis. Nemesis caused Narcissus to fall in love with himself, and thus Narcissus pined away to his death, unable to stop gazing at his own reflection in a pool water.
The spurned nymphs treated the young man kindly in his death, but when they sought his body to give it burial they found where it lay instead a lovely flower with yellow-golden blossoms, and gave it the boy’s name, Narcissus. Now we call them Daffodils.
Most people probably recognize that narcissistic individuals seem to have a preoccupation with themselves, but that’s not the half of it.
The rest of the story is told in the lives of people within their sphere of narcissistic influence. Imagine a three-year-old child (at the age when they are still at the center of their universe but are aware of others) in the body of a full-grown adult and with authority over other people. Everyone exists to serve the adult child, and the child serves no one. No such thing as sharing here.
The profound inability of a narcissist to show empathy for others, or to relate another individuals needs or feelings can be so extreme that it can appear to be organic, as if from some sort of brain injury or dysfunction.
Somewhere I read that narcissistic people tend to look younger than their years, presumably because the tribulations of others never touch them. It’s not that they’re tough like army boots, it’s because they actually just don’t care. One derivation of the term “Narcissus” is related to “narcotic,” which in Greek means, in essence, “to numb.” So in a way a Narcissist is immune to the pain of others. Your problems may as well be occurring in the galaxy Andromeda. They don’t affect the narcissist personally, so they don’t matter unless they affect something the narcissist needs from you.
On the other hand, a narcissist’s reaction to personal criticism, rejections, or perceived slights may be catastrophic. Rage would not be out of the question, nor deep shame or humiliation. But first the narcissist would probably focus intensely on why it’s not his or but fault, but yours.
I knew a politician once with many narcissistic traits. I’ll call her Phoebe. A friend invited Phoebe to a local judge’s dinner, an invitation to which she did not rsvp. The evening of the dinner, Phoebe arrived late, and demanded to be set at the head table. There was not room, and when the friend tried to set a place at the next table, Phoebe stormed off with angry profanities about everyone’s incompetence under her breath and a great stomping and clacking of high heels on the tile floors as she made her way out. Obviously, the sense of entitlement is a little over-the-top.
People in relationships with narcissists will have a difficult time of it, unless they are ready to be subjugated and ready to have their own needs disregarded.
I have read warnings that it may be dangerous to simply walk away from a narcissist. That rage of rejection could result in bad things including stalking or assault. But at some point such a decision may be required.
Narcissists, too, provoke a little rage. The accusatory, blaming style of interactions and the shutting people off “with valves or stone” can elicit from the recipient a few angry, even homicidal, thoughts.
Can narcissism be changed? Perhaps with plenty of talk therapy and training in empathy, inroads can be made, but it is doubtful. Here is a link to suggestions on dealing with a narcissistic person.
I am haunted by the last image of the tale of Narcissus. It is told that as his spirit crossed the the river that encircles the world of the dead, it leaned over the boat to catch one final glimpse of itself in the water.