The masculine version of the Living with NPD graphic, with a few key updates. Please feel free to share!
I’ve become a big fan of Facebook groups recently. It’s where all of my Cluster B support groups are.
I’ve been looking for a while for a good Facebook group for DBT. Unfortunately it wasn’t as easy as expected. The problem:
Trigger warnings have taken over. In one group I’m a part of, the arguments over who was and wasn’t using trigger warnings and when, got so out of control they had to shut down new posts. Seriously, people?
I find this to be baffling. The point of learning DBT is to better regulate our own emotions and change unhealthy behaviors. Expecting everyone to anticipate what will trigger us and act accordingly seems counter to the purpose of learning DBT.
In my opinion, it’s just more asking others to walk on eggshells. I’m trying to get rid of my personality disorder, not continue expecting others to work around it.
Learning DBT helps us do that – with mindfulness, distress tolerance, emotional regulation and interpersonal effectiveness. So we should be using the skills we are learning when we feel triggered. After all there is no way we are going to avoid all our triggers out in the real world.
Let’s face it, the majority (if not all) of DBT groups cater to those with Borderline Personality Disorder. There are a lot of similarities between NPD and BPD and in my real life DBT class, I honestly don’t even think they realize I’m not one of them, our experiences are so similar.
But online people feel a lot freer to attack others, especially when they don’t realize there are people with NPD in the group. The idea that narcissists can’t become self aware is still pervasive.
In the end I find myself being triggered without empathy, by the same people who have a 200+ long list of trigger warnings they need for themselves. Not cool.
Real World DBT
So, I started my own group, Real World DBT, for learning, practicing, sharing tips or resources, and seeking advice on DBT skills.
While anyone is welcome to join, the emphasis is on those with NPD, CPTSD, anxiety and dissociation. And there are no trigger warnings required.
To my knowledge it’s the only group of its kind.
The structure of the group is laid back. You can be as active as you’d like. Every week we will highlight a new skill, and at the end of the week anyone who wants to share their diary cards, progress or challenges can.
Throughout the week we will support each other, offer resources, and give/ask for skills advice.
Real World DBT is a group for those with trauma-based disorders to learn, practice, share tips and resources, and seek skills advice, on Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT), including mindfulness and grounding techniques for dissociation.
Who: Emphasis on those with/suspect NPD, C-PTSD, Dissociative Disorders, Anxiety Disorders and other personality disorders. However, all interested in learning DBT are welcome.
In this group there are no trigger warnings required. We can’t always avoid our triggers. It’s up to us to learn how to cope with our emotions in a healthy way. Learning DBT helps us do that – with mindfulness, distress tolerance, emotional regulation and interpersonal effectiveness.
Want in? Join us!
This article discusses the link between NPD and psychopathy, which I always find interesting, because both NPD and ASPD are so prevalent in my family.
But what I really related to was the discussion of fear in NPDers. One of my core issues is constant, never-ending anxiety — essentially fear or worry about future events.
I can spend hours at a time ruminating about an anxiety-inducing issue, trying to plan for every possible outcome. I never want to be caught off guard for fear I will look stupid or face humiliation.
Looking at NPD as a form of fear avoidance makes a lot of sense and really rings home with me personally.
Rooted in ‘Profound Fear’
On their own, psychoanalytic explanations are inadequate and unconvincing. This is where neuroscience can help. Last year, Elsa Ronningstam and Arielle Baskin-Sommers showed that NPD can be linked to fear and decision making processes. Indeed, feelings of fear have been frequently cited as a significant part of NPD pathology, and possibly even a motivating factor in narcissistic personalities.
Ronningstam and Baskin-Sommers say that the fear of dark and negative self-experiences, or even intolerable aspects of one’s identity, “can drive protective self-aggrandizement as well as destructive suicidal behavior enforced by overwhelming feelings of despair.” What’s more, certain events can trigger fears associated with earlier “narcissistic trauma.”
It’s possible, therefore, that NPD is a form of fear avoidance, especially of failure. It’s a “self-regulatory strategy” driven by specific motivations, including achievements, competitiveness, improvement of performance, and perfectionism.
Neurologically speaking, scientists have pinpointed the amygdala — the part of the brain that regulates processes like the detection of emotionally arousing and pertinent stimuli. Other regions, like the nucleus accumbens, hippocampus, and some prefrontal regions, form a neural network involved in the perception of threat, fear learning, and fear expression. Together, these areas act to produce an integrated fear response .
In addition, and relatedly, the hormone cortisol has been implicated in narcissism — at least in males. Cortisol is released in response to stress, which can be triggered by a fear response.
Read the rest of the artice here: http://health.yourdailyideas.com/why-narcissism-is-a-profoundly-misunderstood-psychological-disorder/
The client’s reason for entering therapy did impact the level of personality change, though. Those who sought therapy for anxiety or personality disorders (such as borderline personality disorder or narcissistic personality disorder) changed the most, while those with substance abuse and eating disorders changed the least. It’s not clear why that is, especially since personality disorders are considered as difficult to treat as substance abuse. But it does suggest that not everyone is able to change to the same degree and that more research is needed to uncover why.
I have a six year old son, Andrew. I first started noticing a shift in his behavior in Kindergarten. He started acting out at school, but it didn’t become a huge problem until he started first grade this year.
For the first few months of the school year, I was getting daily calls from the teacher telling me that Andrew was a problem. He lashed out at other kids. He was hyper-sensitive to any perceived slight – if someone stepped on his toe, for example, it wasn’t an accident in his eyes. They clearly meant to hurt him. And he had to react and get back at them. He had to defend himself.
It was at the point I was worried he would get kicked out of school.
At home, he would throw temper tantrums and a couple times, he physically lashed out at me.
His friendships were dwindling. His best friend moved away, and he had trouble making and maintaining friendships. When he was invited to something, he was crippled by anxiety and reverted to acting out, or acting like a clown—trying to make others laugh, because he didn’t know how to connect with them any other way.
I see so much of myself as a child in him. I too had rage. I too acted out. I too felt alone and unloved.
I look back and realize these were all cries for help. Instead, my parents blamed me for my poor behavior, told me what a terrible child I was, heaped positive attention on my more docile sister, and offered no other help.
One of my biggest fears is raising a child that has the same emotional problems I have. I know how hurt I was by my parents and I don’t want my son to feel hurt by me in that way.
I know what it’s like to live with the low self-esteem, to have no control over my emotions, to have fleeting volatile relationships. Never able to believe anyone gives a shit about me at all. It’s lonely. I’ve lived a life full of rage.
I looked at Andrew, and realized he was becoming me. Most of what I’ve read says narcissism is established in children before age five. Fuck.
Well, I can’t go back in time and change my earlier mistakes, but I can change what I’m doing now and going forward. Furthermore, if I can change pathological behaviors in myself at 36, he has a much better shot at age 6. Focus on the positive.
My goal became to turn things around before his behaviors become so engrained in his personality that it takes root as a full-fledged personality disorder. Early intervention.
So far, it seems to be working. This week his report card came home and for behavior, he got a B. Huge improvement.
Also, he was invited over to a neighbor’s house to play and I think it went well. Evidence he’s starting to be more socially accepted and learning to get along better with others.
Maybe he won’t be stuck with these issues for the rest of his life after all. Fingers crossed.
Here’s some of what we’ve been trying:
I enrolled Andrew in behavioral therapy. I had mixed feelings about it, because I was afraid the emotional issues would be ignored for behaviors. But we had to get his behaviors under control ASAP or he was going to get kicked out of school.
For our three sessions, we walked away with one real piece of advice: offer labeled praise when he does something good, ignore bad behavior.
The labeled praise should be given liberally while he’s doing the positive thing. For example, “I like how quietly you’re playing.”
Seems too simple, but it started to immediately turn his behavior around at home and at school. That was the crucial first step.
Being mindful when I’m with him
I would often be checked out when I was with my son. Time spent with him was necessary to get the job done (bathing him, getting his homework done, feeding him, etc.). I could be dissociating or thinking about my own issues or checking my phone. Most of the time, my mind was elsewhere and I was running an internal countdown clock to his bedtime when I could finally get some uninterrupted “me time.”
I wasn’t there with him, didn’t enjoy spending time with him, and he knew it. One day, he asked me if I love him. Like, really asked. My heart sank.
Now I make a concerted effort to be in the moment when I’m with him. Sometimes I will leave my phone in another room. We have phone-free family time now too.
The more I practice being one-mindful with him the more naturally it comes.
I didn’t know how to talk to my own son. I didn’t know how to relate to him. When I first started engaging him more in conversation, it was incredibly awkward. He would say something or ask me a question and I had no idea how to respond.
I couldn’t be myself with him and he couldn’t be himself with me. It’s like I was babysitting someone else’s child. At six, he already wasn’t sharing major details of his life with me. He already felt he had to handle everything on his own.
I had to build trust with him, by talking to him a lot and really listening to what he has to say – and then showing him that I was willing and eager to help with his problems – and prove that I’m his advocate.
Empathizing with him and teaching him empathy for others
I have to teach him empathy, while I’m still learning it myself. Essentially, we are learning together.
I make a regular effort to put myself in his shoes. I ask myself often, how might this make Andrew feel? I try to remember how it felt to be a child.
I talk it through with him. I explain how I think he feels and ask if I have it right. I tell him I understand why he would feel that way. I relate to him by talking about how I may feel in a similar situation or how I felt in similar situations in the past.
I encourage him to think about how others may feel in a given situation, or how he would feel if it was him.
When he feels slighted by someone and wants to defend himself, we talk through what actually happened (the facts). We talk about how the other person may feel. Discuss other possibilities for their actions, rather than assuming they are out to intentionally hurt him.
I praise and encourage him when he shows empathy for others, for animals, for his baby brother.
Last week, he took it upon himself to get the cat water and I praised him for thinking about her needs and being kind to her.
Being kind to him. Being understanding when he makes a mistake. Being forgiving. Encouraging him to be kind to himself and not to engage in negative self-talk. Encouraging and praising him for being kind to others.
Focusing on the positive
I remember to praise him for the good things he does. When we talk about the negative, I try to frame it in a way that emphasizes healthier reactions. I make sure to let him know bad behavior doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, it means we have some stuff to work on.
I’m teaching my six year old DBT
My husband and I are both working on learning DBT ourselves, and we don’t hide it from our son — we invite him to participate.
So far, we’ve showed him opposite action, distraction, mindfulness, radical acceptance, fact checking and a few other skills.
The other day he was upset about not getting home until late, because he wouldn’t get to watch Pokémon XYZ, which had just come out on Netflix. It was a great opportunity to learn radical acceptance.
I validated his feelings, acknowledging how upset he was and explained that I could totally understand why he felt the way he did.
Then we talked about how this particular situation was something we couldn’t change, and that continuing to be upset about it would only make him more upset. Instead, I helped him distract himself from the negative emotions by playing a game with him in the car.
Encourage him to explore his feelings
Anger is a secondary emotion that other harder to face emotions hide behind. When he’s angry, I encourage him to take some time to think about exactly why he felt so angry. I try to talk through it with him to help him explore the root feelings.
Showing fairness between him and his brother
Growing up I was the scapegoat, my sister was the golden child. When my sister was born, I was essentially ignored and told I was the bad one, she was the good one. We were pitted against each other and because of that, I was almost in my 30s before we had a relationship. I don’t want that for my kids.
I honestly see how this could have happened.
Last year, I gave birth to my second son, Ethan. With all my attention going to the baby, I would get easily frustrated with Andrew, who was feeling ignored and seeking attention by acting out.
He also is loud and wakes up the baby. He is much bigger and doesn’t realize the baby is more fragile, so he can be too rough sometimes, etc. etc. etc. Normal kid stuff, but it was already beginning to turn into me focusing on all the annoying things Andrew did, while heaping all my kindness and attention on innocent little Ethan. That had to stop.
I now praise him for any kindness he shows to the baby and tell him often what a great big brother he is. I ask for his help with small tasks and praise him for being so thoughtful and showing empathy toward Ethan.
I make every effort to point out when the baby shows affection to his big brother by smiling, wanting to play with him, etc. I tell him how much his baby brother loves him and looks up to him.
I try not to compare them. We do sometimes talk about differences in their personalities, but non-judgmentally. I try to point out each of them have their own unique personalities, and highlight the good in each of them.
I also make time for just Andrew. Last weekend we went to the movies, shopping, out to dinner, just the two of us and I was able to stay in the moment for most of it.
Highlighting my own flaws and discussing them with him
I let Andrew know now that we (me and his father) are not perfect either and that we need help managing our emotions too.
I’m still learning and sometimes I mess up. Sometimes I blow up, mentally check out or am just plain negative. I’m a work in progress.
But I’m trying to do better and take responsibility when I mess up. I apologize when appropriate or necessary. I do my best to explain that it’s not his fault. I talk about what I could have done better — then really try to do better next time. Ask him how he feels. Try to show him I’m trying and that things are consistently improving.
I also try to use these situations as teachable moments. I relate to Andrew and the trouble he’s had with his behavior, explaining that I have the same problems and I’m also working on it, just like he is.
I ask for his empathy, by reminding him how he feels when he loses control of his emotions and ask if he can understand how I may have been feeling in a similar way.
We talk about better ways to handle those situations. I make every effort to handle it that way going forward. I encourage him to point out to me if he feels I’m acting a certain way and I take a pause if he tells me I am.
I do my best to talk through my own efforts at emotional regulation so that he can see and learn what’s healthy and what works (and what doesn’t). It’s important to me he knows how hard I’m working on it. My emotions are mine to control and not his fault. Sometimes I will tell him, mommy is feeling angry – you didn’t do anything wrong and I’m not mad at you– but I need a few minutes alone to cool off. He gets it and will sometimes tell me the same. If he does, I back off and come back in a half hour to see if he might like to talk about it now.
I also ask him every so often: what can I do to be a better mom to you?
Bonding with my son
Last week, Andrew got in trouble at school. This is much less frequent these days, but still happens sometimes. I wanted to talk to him about it.
He had noticed the field in back of our house was filled with small flowers and had been wanting to show it to me for a few days — he kept bringing it up, but it was never a good time. He asked if we could talk about school in the field. It was one of the first nice spring days. We sat in the shade of a tree, just me and him in the field of flowers.
He told me what happened. He was honest, I was kind. It was a good talk.
After we’d talked it through, he told me: I want to focus on positive thoughts now. That made me smile.
We played hide and seek and I stayed in the moment with him.
Several NPDers I know believed they were empaths prior to self awarenes. I did too.
Here’s some more research to ponder:
According to a recent study published in Personality and Mental Health, narcissists consistently overestimated their emotional intelligence.
I found myself watching old episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm the other night and it dawned on me: Larry David is sooooo NPD. I always related to the show and to the situations Larry finds himself in. Somehow Larry finds a way to piss off everyone around him and is generally clueless. [Raises hand]
During its original run not only did I not realize he was a narcissist, I hadn’t yet realized I was either. Now watching it again all these years later, it’s so clear. No wonder I related to his guy: He’s low empathy, self-centered, clueless in social situations, he ruins all interpersonal relationships, is easily offended and embarrassed, and often flies into fits of rage.
To some, Larry comes off as “neurotic.” But a recent study found that neuroticism and narcissism are essentially the same thing. Needy Narcissists May Just Be Extreme Neurotics:
In every sample, neuroticism was the biggest predictor of vulnerable narcissism, to the point that Miller tells Science of Us that vulnerable narcissists and people high in neuroticism were “basically identical” in their results. “They were not similar — they were almost exactly the same,” he said in an email. So the study may have uncovered a prime example of the “jangle fallacy,” where the same phenomenon gets two different names and is falsely treated as two different things. Though different literatures have grown around neuroticism and vulnerable narcissism, they may very well be one and the same.
Of course I took to Google to see if anyone else had noticed what a narc Larry is, and came up with an interesting article that compared Larry David to another show about narcissists I quite enjoy, Girls:
Larry David played a version of himself in “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” much like Lena Dunham, who plays an exaggerated and incredibly negative version of herself (and people she knows) in “Girls.” These two have much more in common than sharing a comedy series written and created by themselves on the same network. Larry (from here on out we’ll use “Larry” to refer to the character, and “David” to refer to the actor) is essentially the male version of Hannah: both ridiculously selfish, self-loathing, and navigating every aspect of life for his or her own benefit, while disregarding others along the way. It’s also pretty (pretty, pretty, pretty) much known that everyone thinks Larry is a complete asshole.
I love how Larry highlights the humor of life with NPD. I can get so caught in a loop of negativity about my disorder and all the very serious (and not funny) things about it. But sometimes it’s nice to be able to laugh at it, and laugh at myself.
Larry David is my spirit animal.
HBO announced that they are bringing Curb back for a 9th season this year. Can’t wait.
Larry being low empathy
Larry hangs up on his wife, who was having a near-death experience, because the cable guy came. “You know, it’s very hard to get those people here!”
Larry’s fits of rage:
“I have friends who I can’t stand for like 25 years, I’m still friends with them. Because I stay ’til the end. I go down with the ship.”
In my last post, How to make yourself fall out of love, I mentioned my tendency to devalue those who treat me well and idealize those who treat me poorly. It’s something I’ve done over and over again throughout my life with little awareness.
But after writing that line, it stuck with me all week. I wondered why that was.
If I feel hurt, I will express rage. I may attempt to counter-control, counter-manipulate or straight up fight. But inside, there’s this nagging feeling that says I must deserve this. I am lower than. My opinions count less. My feelings count less.
Having no empathy means having none for myself either.
I think the person doing this to me is better. I obsess over why they would hurt me. Why I’m unworthy of their love or respect. I want to understand them, and understand why I didn’t measure up. I assume their feelings are valid, but question my own and search constantly for outside validation that tells me I am not defective. Only no amount of outside validation is ever enough.
Am I stupid? Am I ugly? Fat? Wrong? Do I have terrible taste in music? Not interesting enough? What is it? Why was I unworthy? What could I have done differently to make them love me?
Why do I do this to myself? What am I, some sort of masochist?
Well, apparently, yes. And apparently, all narcissists are. In my search, I found this abstract of a larger piece, Narcissism and masochism. The narcissistic-masochistic character:
“Developmentally and clinically, narcissistic and masochistic pathology are so intertwined that their theoretic and clinical unraveling requires specific attention to their linkage and the predictable forms of response to interpretation.
It is therefore useful to think of the narcissistic-masochistic character as a clinical entity. In this condition, pathologic narcissistic tendencies are unconscious vehicles for attaining masochistic disappointment and masochistic injuries are an affirmation of distorted narcissistic fantasies.”
The eternal victimhood of narcissists suddenly makes so much sense.
I have been getting narcissistic supply from ruminating and obsessing over past hurts. I replay the pain over and over again, dissecting every aspect of it. Going over every detail with a fine tooth comb, looking for anything I may have missed that could explain how I failed. Rinse and repeat.
I search for any slight—real or perceived—to latch on to and continue the dynamic, if only in my head.
I initially had trouble understanding the Borderline urge to self-harm. But I self-harm emotionally, by obsessing over past hurts and humiliations, and by devaluing myself.
No one remains to hurt me, so now I do it myself. With memories and a never ending series of questions I will never get answers to.
It won’t hurt anymore if I’d just stop caring. But I can’t stop myself from caring. In this way I’ve become my own abuser. The pain would have been long over by now, only I won’t let it be.
Sexually my fantasies often revolve around degradation and situations where I am controlled, humiliated, used, and where consent straddles the line. This is not an all-the-time thing for me. But every so often I play out these fantasies in my head and am satisfied by the mistreatment.
Self-compassion is one of the first things my therapist began suggesting to me when I started therapy. It’s something I try to remind myself of, but it’s the hardest thing for me to do. Harder than any of the DBT skills I’ve learned so far. Harder than learning to feel empathy for others.
Aiden reminds me often. He says, “Are you being kind to yourself today?” That always makes me smile and reminds me to give myself some credit. I guess hearing that someone else thinks I am worthy of compassion is still more powerful than me telling myself.
I hope that’s not always the case.
I have noticed that the more emotionally connected I feel to Aiden, the less I fantasize sexually about being hurt.
I am learning to allow myself to be pleasured. Actual intimacy. It takes a level of vulnerability that before now, I’ve never allowed myself to experience. It’s like an entire erotic world has been opened up to me, that I guess I never believed I had a right to.
Maybe feeling more connected to myself emotionally can help me stop the emotional turmoil I put myself through.
Ever been in love with someone you knew was bad for you, but couldn’t help yourself?
Cluster B’s have a tendency to idealize and devalue others. When I have idealized someone they can virtually do no wrong.
Even, and sometimes especially, if they are treating me poorly, it can be hard for me to let go. I see only the good in them, and have a tendency to internalize their bad or hurtful behavior as some fault of my own. I am defective. Unlovable. That’s why they are treating me so poorly.
At times like these my old friend, Devalue, would be really handy to have around. But I can’t control the devaluation process. Devaluing for me, is like falling out of love — it just happens.
Worse, I have a tendency to devalue those who treat me well, and exalt those who mistreat me. I think, if they love me, there must be something wrong with them.
Or, they are trying to manipulate me.
A couple of weeks ago, someone in one of my Cluster B groups mentioned the DBT Peer Connections series on YouTube. I finally got around to checking it out and found it helpful.
The series consists of 23 episodes, ranging in length from 3 minutes to 2 hours. So, it’s a time investment. But from what I’ve seen so far, it’s worth it.
In this video (below), she talks about using the DBT skill, “Opposite Action” for emotional regulation, and goes through a series of emotions including jealousy, anger, shame, guilt and even love.
This was the first time I had seen love covered as an unhealthy emotion that requires regulation. But for a lot of us, it is.
When love doesn’t fit the facts, when the person doesn’t deserve our love or admiration, there are things we can do to change our feelings — we don’t have to be slaves to unhealthy emotions.
She gets to love at 18:00, but the entire video is worth a watch. I identified with needing help on all of the emotions, especially anger.