There’s an old joke where one person, after talking excessively, stops and says to the other, “Well, enough about me, let’s talk about you. What do you think of me?” Am I like that? I do like to talk—I’m an extrovert and have been accused of dominating conversations. I do like to talk about myself—I’m even blogging about myself, aren’t I? During my separation and divorce, I decided my ex was a narcissist, and that was the root of many of our problems. But lately, as I’m reflecting after divorce, it dawned on me that I might be one, too.
When my husband sprang the news, we were sitting at the kitchen table. I knew before I knew he was going to say something awful—I could see it in his face and felt my stomach go hollow. And then he said it: “I had sex with Linda, and we’re in love.” Linda (name changed for privacy) was one of my good friends.
As the initial shock wore off, and I was able to process, three primary lines of thinking emerged: (1) Woe is me, I’ve been wronged; (2) What did I do wrong and how can I change?; (3) He will come back to me.
Do you notice how all of these are about me? Well, of course, self-preservation kicks in for almost anyone in a situation like this. But as time went on, I continued to focus on these three thoughts. The belief in victimhood is the most narcissistic, even though at first glance, it seems the opposite. How can someone crying “poor me” be a narcissist? Isn’t a victim usually someone who has no confidence left? But you see, victimhood is all about me, me, me: I was mistreated. He did this awful thing to me. He should be punished. He should be sorry. Yes, the perpetrator can be a narcissist, but so can the victim… in an oddly satisfying way.
Now, several years later, I can see that something inside me must have enjoyed the suffering and all the attention I was getting from my friends, who all thought he and his new girlfriend were rats. Everyone (even my hairdresser and my accountant) assured me I was not the kind of woman a man in his right mind leaves. They all assured me he was wrong, wrong, wrong, and I was right. They also assured me Linda’s behavior was totally inappropriate: Who has sex with their friend’s husband anyway? All the negative energy toward the two “perpetrators” and all the sympathy toward me was nourishing me. I see now that as long as I thought I was a victim, I wasn’t going to heal.
At least I wasn’t blaming it all on my husband. I was spared by the number two thought mentioned above: What did I do wrong and how can I change? Yet, even that thought has a narcissistic ring to it. If only I can change x, y and z, I can make everything better. I, I, I. But of course, marriage is a dance—one partner can’t change the step without the other one stumbling. In my defense, I will say that I wasn’t so naïve to think I could fix a few things and everything would be okay. I knew it took two to tango. He and I would both have to do some serious re-thinking if we were to work on our marriage.
The “what did I do wrong” thinking can be healthy when reflecting after divorce. An appropriate dose of guilt can help a person understand his or her mistakes, correct them, make amends, and move on. But guilt can also become excessive and fall into the “I’m such a failure at marriage” trap, which again smacks of narcissism. When you feel excessive guilt or shame—it’s all my fault—you’re attributing an awful lot of power to yourself. The way to heal is to surrender shame and move on to a solution instead of focusing on the problem. Turning the situation over to a higher power (admitting with humility you can’t do it alone) is probably the best way to prevent narcissistic tendencies.
What about my “he will come back” obsession? That was partly being in the denial phase of grief and partly logical thinking. I could see all the reasons why his new relationship wouldn’t work out. But I was also narcissistic enough to believe he wouldn’t turn away from me permanently. Wasn’t I a good wife and the one he loved for 31 years?
Reflecting After Divorce: Maybe I Was The Narcissist & Not My Ex
So am I a narcissist? Are you? Here are the signs. Steve Bressert, Ph.D., states that a person who has at least five of these symptoms has narcissistic personality disorder. [1]
- Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)
- Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
- 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)
- Requires excessive admiration
- Has a very strong sense of entitlement, e.g., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations
- Is exploitative of others (e.g., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends)
- Lacks empathy (e.g., is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others)
- Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her
- Regularly shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes
I could sort of see myself in all of these, but not to the extent of “grandiose,” “preoccupied,” “exploitative,” or “ excessive.” The dear man with whom I live now happens to be a therapist, so I asked him. Luckily, he said I wasn’t a narcissist. However, I do think it’s wise to take a hard look at our own attitudes and behaviors. When you’re in the midst of the grief and trauma of divorce, you might not always show your best side. I certainly didn’t. There will be a time when you can look back when reflecting after divorce and actually forgive yourself and your ex. You can work on yourself to become a better person, which will serve you and any new relationship you have. Because you’re reading this article, you’re already interested in improving yourself, so congratulations!
My favorite spiritual teacher, the psychiatrist David R Hawkins, writes, “One benefit from a life crisis is greater self-awareness. The situation is overwhelming, and we are forced to stop all of our diversionary games, take a good look at our life situation, and re-evaluate our beliefs, goals, values, and life direction.” [2]
One way I had of looking at my situation was to write poetry about it. Here’s a poem I wrote when I dropped my belief that I was a victim of a narcissist and better understood what my ex was going through. It’s meant to be a poem of forgiveness and empathy, and it appears in my book, Untying the Knot.
Has He Landed Safely?
I worry that the outstretched legs on the hart are bent the wrong way
as he throws himself off — from Stag’s Leap, Sharon Olds
Not at all a graceful takeoff
his leap threw him into the wild blue
ambiguity of an affair.
I now know he had to do it:
had to explore, sail off the edge
of the world.
I now know he had one limb out
of our marriage for years.
Kept trying to balance
his accounts—in his mind
he and I did not equal happiness
even though I was the wife he wanted
to show. Smart,
pretty enough, a good mother.
He loved me as much as he could
but I did not fill his coffers.
For two years he resisted the lure
of her but it persisted,
a bee in his palm,
until he couldn’t hold it any longer.
He was barely more than fawn
in the ways of betrayal, antlers
uncalcified. Yet he craved
the danger, needed it
like heroin to addle his pain.
He had to leap, to deny the gravity
of his action. To land, gashed
in another galaxy.
Does he speak the language?
Can he breathe?
By Karen Paul Holmes from her book Untying the Knot (Aldrich Press, 2014)
Very good!
Thank you for reading!
no narcissism, you have awareness of self and suffering, balance. Narcissists don’t have the awareness, and are super defended about their suffering. Therefore, any criticism to he/shef leaves them with a “narcissistic injury””. Which is intolerable.
phew! Thank you!
A very honest and heartfelt article. This kind of self-awareness sounds healthy to me.
Thank you for reading and commenting!
Such amazing humility here. Will recommend this article to many of my clients.
Thank you!
What an unexpected take on a situation where one is the victim. Only someone who knows herself well and who is unremittingly generous could come to such a conclusion. Well written and honest. I particularly liked the poem.
Thank you, Diana!
Karen – Thank you for the article of growth and forgiveness. Well done. And the deer- oh!
Love the poem.
Thank you!
You are so honest Karen. I always thought your ex was a nincompoop for leaving someone as wonderful as you.
Hahaha Lucy, that’s funny. Thank you for reading and commenting!
Thank you .. I needed this
Thought I was going crazy
I’m glad it helped!
Poetry as therapy. Cool. Very creative.
It’s a very personal poem about him.
Poetry is one art form where it is ok to describe your feelings without worrying that you might be accused of being a narcicisst. What if you wrote the poem to address universal truths. So the reader could apply some of your experiences to their own. So that instead of being about him, the poem transcends his actions to describe what the poet experienced, learned, or about an insight that the reader could gain or learn something from. Maybe try writing it by replacing him with a metaphor. DYLAN Thomas wrote some great stuff about betrayal. Betrayal is what this poem is about. Ultimately the creep who betrayed you doesn’t matter. “He”
Doesn’t matter. It is the concept of betrayal, fate, spiritual weakness etc and the strength that can be gained from the suffering the poet endures.
Thanks for sharing.
Sorry you had to suffer. At least the experience gave you inspiration to become a poet.
Congrats.
Wow! I have the same story as you . My ex is narcissistic .i was told by my therapist I was a enabler a codependent. After I started deep therapy I saw a lot of narsitic traits in me . It’s scary as hell . I wrote a poem as well about it
Narcissistically titled “ me”
Me”
Codependent underwear, sitting in my armored chair
Waiting for the world to pass me by
I can rescue you , you can rescue me
We will make a packed never to be free
All I needed was me , learning to see , me being me
Narcissistic under there , screaming through a silent stare
The broken toy can validate through the rain and through the hate
I will lie , I will try , I will sing the lullaby
I lift you up , it pulls me down , round and round and round and round
All I needed was me , learning to see , me being me
I’m waking up to a empty cup
I’m standing my ground while I’m tearing it down
Being on my own , it’s ok to be alone
I can finally see what it’s like to be me
All I needed was me , learning to see , me being me
Thanks so much for this honest, vulnerable article. You’ve certainly reached a strong point, something I aspire to. Divorced 16 months now, ex already remarried. I felt like I was a type of narcissist when I began reading this, but was relieved to ‘fail’ the list ‘test’. I’m guessing my ongoing pain is why I continue to feel like a victim, and I do soak up the nurturing I get. I hope I’m not moving on faster because of how cathartic that feels, but will have to examine that further. Still, I feel like I could only react and get back up after a year and a half of surprise revealing of lie after lie, and only now starting to feel the deep pain. I want to only blame him; accepting my own failings is too painful. But maybe I was just humanly imperfect? At least I remained faithful and supportive, and never thought divorce would be in my story. Anyway, the step between victim and… survivor(?) seems an impossible jump. The other side is inviting, but there seem to be no baby steps to getting there. A confident, self-asserting woman is something I don’t know how to be. I feel I lack the skeleton. I am a strong advocate for others, but somehow don’t feel worthy, myself.
Lisa, you will get there. You are worthy. And yes, we’re all “humanly imperfect,” and realizing that helps us forgive ourselves and others. Thanks for commenting.
Craig, Thank you for posting your poem and telling your story. The poem definitely strikes a chord!
To anonymous who suggested, “Maybe try writing it by replacing him with a metaphor.” Thank you for your thoughts. My poetry book, Untying the Knot, addresses the subject in many ways and with many different metaphors. This one happens to be directly about him, but does compare him to a stag about to leap off a cliff — I have found people do relate to that and apply it to their own experiences.
I appreciate your self reflection, and honesty. You truly are on a path that take true courage. Thank you for this writing.
Thank you for your generous comment!
HA!!! This is bullshit. Maybe your ex wasn’t really a Narcissist either. Or maybe my ex is a true Psychopath. Sounds like you were allowed a healthy social life while I had to become a prisoner. Hm, does that make me the Narcissist for saying I was the victim? Not sure if you had any young children to protect. You don’t mention it in this article. However, I had to protect the mental health of my 2 children while he psychologically raped them. Hm, does that make my children Narcissists for feeling like they’ve been victimized?
Maybe you could allow a “grey area” into the idea of “victimhood”. Or maybe I’m that much of a Narcissist who did it all to myself because it feels good to recieve sympathy even though everyone hates a “victim”.
The poem speaks *for* your ex. Feels weird to explain someone else’s motivation for their actions. It *was* a betrayal. Not innocent and graceful a a leaping stag. We can be forgiving. We can be self reflective. But this feels like masking in a way.
C Oden, thanks for reading and commenting. Indeed it was a betrayal, and one that devastated me for quite some time. This poem is one of many in the book, and this particular poem was written when I was in the acceptance phase of grief after my divorce. There are other poems where I do not treat him so kindly and where I am raw with my feelings of anger, hurt, frustration, helplessness, etc.
Did your ex and Judas/Jezebel run off into the sunset and live happily ever after like they thought they would?
Your poem made me realise that I’m not a narcissist- I was starting to think I was because in order to divorce him , I had to become selfish for the first time in 35 years of marriage. This has enraged him , as he didn’t expect it of me and has therefore been labelling me as a narcissist to his new partner, and our adult children. I just hope that they don’t let his charm convince them . It scares me …
hahaha, I love this question! No they didn’t! They broke up several years ago.
oops, so sorry to be confusing, Pippa — that reply was supposed to be for the comment from InquiringMinds above yours.
hahaha, I love this question! No, they did not!
haha, InquiringMind, I love this question! No, they did not!
Pippa, I’m having trouble with that “hahaha” comment that is not supposed to be a reply to you, but to an earlier person’s comment. The site won’t let me delete it.
Thank you for this article. I hope some day I can make sense of all that is going on. But your writings have truly helped me and allowed me to open my eyes a bit more.
The words still make me cry, its only been 4 months, Im just not there yet. But Im a work in progress.. TY
It’s really easy if you wanna know if you’re a narcissist or not. Did you receive the silent treatment because you had a concern or thought that your spouse didn’t want to entertain? Were you criticized belittled shamemed on a daily basis? Was nothing you ever did good enough? Was your spouse in a constant state of being unfulfilled? Was your spouse always lying and cheating? Fuckkng Narcissist