Юлия Пирумова – Fragile connections. How wounded narcissism prevents us from living in peace with ourselves and others (страница 4)

But that is what matters: both ideas are false. Our Real Self is not terrible. They are complex. They carry contradictions, mistakes, fears, desires – all the things that make us alive.

Our true Self does not have to be beautiful.

They can be tired, confused, imperfect, lost.

And that is their value.

Come with me – and I will show you why the ideas of personal growth and strengthening self-esteem do not work the way they promise. Why we get stuck in endless self-improvement, and what it is really protecting us from. Why we cannot admit that our real need is connection with others. And why we cannot step out into the world while endlessly wandering in our own narcissistic Wonderland.

This book is not about finding the way to finally become better. It is about stopping. Stopping the escape from yourself and beginning to understand yourself. Together, we will explore how our fears, masks, and inner critics became part of us. We will understand how narcissism, trying to protect us, sometimes becomes the very abuser that traps us in eternal self-battle.

We will go through your stories – the ones that shaped your Bad Self. We will work out how they taught you to fear your feelings and reject your imperfections. We will look at your Inner Parent, who sometimes becomes too harsh or even cruel. And step by step, we will find our way back – to the real you. Not perfect. Not “healed”. But sincere. And alive.

This is a book about coming home.

To yourself.

To those around you.

To the idea that being you, just the way you are, is a wonderful thing.

With care for you, Julia Pirumova

Part One

How the Psyche Is Built and What Narcissism Has to Do With It

Chapter One

“Narcissistic Syndrome”

After the book Fragile People, many recognized themselves in narcissistic deficiency and even called themselves narcissists. Of course, I understood that this was not accurate, but it was impossible to attribute such a variety of narcissistic symptoms and manifestations to one definite phenomenon. After all, for example, we all sometimes feel a sense of inadequacy or shame about some part of ourselves. And many live with the feeling of a hole or emptiness inside. And then I thought, why not unite all this under the name “narcissistic syndrome”? You will not find this term anywhere. That is why I put it in quotation marks and now I will explain why I find it important to talk about it.

In psychology, a syndrome is not always a pathology. It is a collection of symptoms and manifestations united by a common cause. In our case, it is exactly so. Narcissistic dynamics can belong to any type of character and any organization of personality. They are what form, sustain, and protect self-esteem, dignity, a sense of self-respect, and our human identity – that is, our Self. They can manifest through different strategies and behavioral patterns. For some of us, narcissistic dynamics are the leading way the psyche functions. And then we can call ourselves a narcissistic person. But even in this case, there are several variations of how exactly the narcissistic syndrome will manifest in us and to what extent it will define our lives. Thus, looking at our history, as a result of childhood trauma, we can become either a narcissist to the extent of a personality disorder or a depressive person with narcissistic defenses. Or a schizoid character with a powerful narcissistic armor.

“Narcissistic syndrome” is a concept that unites these manifestations, showing how they can take the form of masks, defensive bastions, or internal emptiness, regardless of where we are on the scale of mental health. It is not only about the “narcissists” who we easily recognize by their demonstrative brightness but also about those who quietly retreat into the shadows, walling themselves off from the pain of insufficiency. And about the neurotics for whom a compulsive striving to be better is a hidden cry for help. And also about those who seem perfectly adapted but are afraid that behind the facade of success, their own fragility will be revealed.

This idea is like a magnifying glass that allows us to see the barely visible lines on the map of the psyche. It shows that no matter how strongly or weakly narcissistic traits manifest themselves in us: they are there, and they are working. Grandiosity can be obvious or hidden, vulnerability can hide behind a stone face or spill out in tears.

But inside each of us, there is a place where narcissistic trauma whispers that we are not good enough, and where our defenses against it are born.

That is why “narcissistic syndrome” is not a diagnosis but a way to see how our nature fits into the general map of personality development. We all carry elements of the syndrome. We are all trying to compensate for the lack of maturity in our psychic structures where they are still too weak to withstand this big complex world. This is our common human essence, and it has far more nuances than simply dividing people into “healthy” and “unhealthy”.

“Narcissistic syndrome” often speaks in the language of paradoxes. When clients talk about their lives, we observe everyday dramas, internal monologues that become visible through words, actions, and even silence. And the most surprising thing is that they exist in all of us – to varying degrees, in different forms, but inevitably.

The first trait that catches the eye is the striving to seem. It is not always grandiosity or flamboyance, although sometimes those are obvious too. A person may try to seem stronger than they are, smarter, more successful, more attractive. To seem better. But what hides behind it? The feeling that simply “being” is not enough. That something must be added to oneself or, more often, something must be eliminated from oneself to gain approval, to be seen, to earn acceptance.

Next – the constant drama with self-esteem. “Narcissistic syndrome” is often manifested in the inability to remain in a state of balance. A person seems to swing between the sense of greatness (of course, imaginary) and the feeling of total failure (also imaginary). One day, or even at one moment, they are convinced they are capable of everything; the next, they feel worthless. These are not the consistent highs and lows of bipolarity, but rather a subtle, habitual instability: the dependence of the inner Self on the gaze, assessments, and opinions of others.

Another noticeable symptom – the eternal search for confirmation, the thirst for recognition, for being needed, important, significant. This search shows itself in how a person talks about their achievements, looks at others awaiting their reaction, tries to be useful or needed, sometimes even at the expense of themselves. There is nothing overtly narcissistic here in the way we usually think about narcissists, but it reflects the same internal mechanism: if I am not confirmed, it is as if I cease to exist.

Equally evident is the fear of revealing and expressing oneself. People with “narcissistic syndrome” often fear being exposed, fear that someone will notice their weaknesses, their imperfections. Therefore, they maintain distance, do not fully reveal their feelings, and build relationships in a way that keeps them safe.

The fear of intimacy can be read in small things:

in answers with slight defensiveness, in avoiding painful questions, or in the desire to change the subject if the conversation gets too close to something too personal.

These symptoms are a vibrating fragile armor, hiding the internal struggle with one's worthlessness, with the sense of insufficiency. They become so obvious that they seem “normal” against the backdrop of life filled with achievements, duties, and demands. But these symptoms are clear alarm signals hinting that something inside is wrong. We are not imagining things, and we are not exaggerating. Our Self desperately seeks attention and signals about problems through symptoms. It simply has no other language for us yet…

Behind the obvious symptoms that complicate life, there is always something deeper, which can also be attributed to “narcissistic syndrome”. For example, loneliness.

And when I use this word, I do not mean simply the absence of people around. It is not situational emptiness. I am speaking of the collapse of connections – both external and internal. Imagine an inner world where there is no life: scorched or, on the contrary, frozen land. There are no people, none expected, and between the person and the surrounding world lie deep moats and rise high walls. Sometimes, you feel like an invisible being, a bodily shell unable to establish contact with others. And although outwardly we might rush from one relationship to another, bustle about, try to adapt or fit in, inside we cannot overcome the distance to reach what we call a connection with others.

Loneliness is not freedom and not solitude, which can be temporary or desirable. Loneliness is a constant and habitual state.

A sense that no close relationships  are possible in principle.

Maybe because we are not suitable for them, or because we do not even hope that someone would respond to us so perfectly that we could let them get close and start to trust them.