Image by Teton via Creative Commons
Over the last few weeks, I have opened Twitter to find trending content relating to trial featuring Johnny Depp and Amber Heard. While I am not qualified to assess the mental disorders that these celebrities might be manifesting, their issues have given me cause to think about how I deal with people who exhibit traits of Narcissist Personality Disorder (NPD).
Last month I wrote about agency and dementia. I wrestle with a similar situation—but not really—when striving to find ways to those living with NPD. How much agency do narcissists have over their personality disorder?
Initially, I believed that any conflict I had with this person was because I was some version of stupid, crazy, evil, or lazy. I found myself working very hard to demonstrate that I was smart, sane, devout, and hardworking—only to be told repeatedly that I was deficient. This led to my cycling through overwork, arguments, anxiety, and a series of shame spirals.
I have tried direct appeals for approval. I catch myself expecting this person to demonstrate compassion and empathy. I have begged for support during difficult times, only to be told that it was too inconvenient. This person also strives to gain personal information about others through me, participates in malicious gossip, and hijacks celebrations, demanding to be the center of attention. Placing blame on someone with NPD leads to a firestorm of attacks. They never accept responsibility. They only play the victim or attack viciously; I have been told that I am “past feeling” like Lamen and Lemuel. (Sometimes they will give the silent treatment, which is a nice break from the drama!)
Finally, I learned to establish boundaries and limit my response when being provoked (aka “going gray rock”; look it up). I cannot cut this person completely out of my life, but I can shorten conversations and refuse to discuss various dimensions of my life and refuse to discuss other people’s business. I also set boundaries against triangulation (look that up) and functioning as a “flying monkey” (look that up, too).
I finally reached a point that it does not matter to me if this person has a choice over their behavior. My agency has no impact on their attitudes, behaviors, or personality. Zero. I can only focus on my behavior. I strive to be respectful and civil–on my terms. I cannot let this other person define “respect” or “civility.”
My husband often repeats the phrase, “the secret to happiness is low expectation.” This works when I let go of the expectation that this person living with NPD will function normally. I am uncomfortable “damning” people by saying that they cannot change. I do believe in repentance as an element of the atonement. However, this change is between this person and the Godhead. I now go into this relationship with lowered expectations. It’s sad. I often imagine a healed relationship in the post-mortal realm. That helps me let go of the deficiencies in our mortal relationship.
They may not be equipped to change until the morning of the resurrection when they will be healed of human frailty, including from the damages caused to their psyche due to their personality disorder. (I will be healed from my deficiencies, too.) In the meantime, I am learning how to love someone who can be toxic and manipulative. It’s as difficult as hugging a porcupine. Nevertheless, I find some ease in the task if I ground my worth within the most primary relationship—my being a child of God. Instead of defining my worth in relation to the needs and projections that frail humans foist upon me, I do better when I define myself before the throne of God. And I pray that I can do my part to better understand the character of the Divine and do my part to strive to develop Christlike traits despite my own human frailties.
Thank you for this!
I’ve only recently reached the place where I see NPD’s impact on agency as in the same ballpark as dementia’s impact on agency. It was easier to absolve my loved one with dementia because I’d known him before his illness. I’d only ever known my person with NPD as disordered, so it’s harder to imagine what he might be like when we are all healed.
After years of living with him (and the abuse that goes along with that), and now some time apart (while gray rocking), I am able to look at him with some compassion. Only God knows how much agency he has.
However, I can exercise the agency I have to protect myself. Just as I took the car keys from my husband when he was diagnosed with FTD, I took myself away when I realized that NPD was damaging and dangerous and almost certainly never to change.
This s a good post and some very necessary advice and a much needed discussion.
My father had all the signs of NPD, and he was sexually abusive of my younger sister and me. He also physically abused my mother a few times and was constantly emotionally abusive of all 5 of us. And, yeah, I took my textbooks on diagnosis and he fit every one of the criteria that only 4 or 5 were required out of 10 and while I may not be legally allowed to officially diagnose, I think I am qualified to do so.
I used to look with disgust at my mother, even as a child, as she expected him to act different than he did. I wanted to scream at her, you know how he is, why do you insist on behaving like he is somebody else? Why don’t you ever protect yourself? But, maybe she knew what normal was and all I really knew was how my two parents were.
So, I guess, in some ways I grew up learning how to set boundaries. My biggest problem was adjusting to normal and learning that not all men behave that way, and learning that not all women are helpless twits who continue to trust someone who simply cannot be trusted.
I choose to stay in relationship with him, because my mother stayed with him until he died. And I honestly liked my mother, not just loved, and really wanted to stay in relationship with her. So, in doing that I knew I would continue to watch her get hurt over and over, and I knew the effort to keep my own boundaries in place with all my other relatives and in laws insisting that I have a “normal” relationship with him by dropping my boundaries. You cannot have a “normal” relationship with an abnormal person.
Is it hard? Yes. Is it worth it? Maybe. If they are a relative and you are stuck stuck stuck with them. But you have to keep in mind that loving them is sort of a one way street. They will not act in your best interest, so you have to protect your health and well being. They will not love you like you need them to, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t love, it just isn’t the kind of love you want and need. They will kill you they love you so much. But they won’t feed or protect you. Don’t ever count on them being loyal or loving you in return. Love them for the good in them, and protect yourself from the harm. And don’t ever count of them for love or loyalty or kindness or understanding.
I know, after that description, everyone is asking, “what kind of love relationship is THAT?” Exactly. It isn’t a normal love relationship because they are not a normal person.
First comment (spouse of FTD person): You sound as though you have worked through the challenges and made piece with the difficulties. All my best to you with maintaining boundaries.
Second comment (child of NPD person): Yes, it's one way to a large degree. But I know that if I try to confront, it will escalate. And if I go total no contact, my children are watching and might take me as a role model and decide to go no contact on me for far lesser infractions. I have lived in 9 different states over 60 years, but I am an extrovert who values community. Consequently, I build fictive kin networks so that I can provide support to others and receive support from others. It's encouraging to see you being able to "stand outside" the dynamic and see what is going on. It's just heartbreaking, but again, I think my person living with NPD 1. does not see the problem (which is part of the disorder) 2. hence they have zero interest in changing and 3. might not be able to stand outside of the situation adequately enough to assess and then make goals to change. The cognitive framing they do does not allow them to see faults let alone accept blame at all. Le Sigh.
Sometimes, in severe cases, the only option is to cut off the relationship. I had to do it with my parents, but my children were teens and knew why we did it. They were being harmed by their grandparents. They saw it and wanted to walk away. They have maintained excellent relations with other parts of the family.
As always, thank you. So insightful. I applaud you. My difficulty person did not have NPD but was a bully, always struggling to show competence. Your piece reminded me of her because I wrote a paper in her in grad school titled, “Hugging a Cactus.”
No Contact Commenter: I fully support your decision to go no contact. Sometimes that is the correct thing to do. I do not live in the same state, so it's easier for me to exert boundaries. And my children are now young adults who don't live with me, so they are building their own social networks. I don't compel them to connect with anyone. (Case in point, my daughter doesn't come home for Christmas and often doesn't return my calls or texts. But I don't punish or guilt her about this. She has to decide how I fit into her life, and she's still trying to figure that out.)
Shari: Oh, that's funny that we are expressing a similar sentiment. I really find a lot of guidance in the second agreement from the book The Four Agreement: Don't Take Anything Personally. I still struggle with this, but I am recognizing that most people just dovetail me into a narrative that is central to them and take from me or project from me what they need. Yes, I want to own my own crap, but sometimes people are running a narrative that I have no ability to transform if they want to caste me into a negative role. Thanks for reading, commenting. May God bless you with every needful thing.