Narcissistic highs vs narcissistic crashes
When the grandiose facade is working at its best, it can produce something called a “narcissistic high” or “narc high”. Narc highs are periods of inflated self-image that are often strong enough to be felt by the person with NPD. The narcissist experiencing a high may feel especially upbeat, giddy, and entirely optimistic— sometimes to the point of our own detriment.
It is common for a narcissist in a narc high to develop manic-like symptoms such as a soaring confidence, unrealistic goals, and a “do it all— right now— no waiting” attitude. We may forego planning our actions due to feeling certain things will work in our favor, which can lead us to making risky decisions. We may also feel comfortable saying and doing things that we wouldn’t normally say or do for the same reasons.
During narc highs, we tend to feel notorious and larger than life and treat the situation as if we’re the center of attention regardless of what others in the room are doing. We may even imagine ourselves as being stronger, smarter, or prettier than what is realistic for a human being.
This is not to be intentionally self-centered or arrogant, but is a symptom of our illness changing our perception. We may not even recognize we’re having symptoms during these moments because the symptoms can impair our insight and overall awareness of ourselves and others. We might even feel like we’re not mentally ill anymore, despite that feeling being the result of mental illness.
So what should others do about our narc highs? Nothing really. If we’re not hurting ourselves or putting anyone else at risk, there’s nothing that needs to be done. We only suffer from narc highs if our behavior hurts us. Otherwise, we’re feeling great. Just let us ride the high for as long as it lasts. In the event that you need a break from us, please do not cut us off bluntly. We may view it as a personal attack and begin crashing. It’s better if you give us a gentle “hey buddy, not right now” and explain why so we’re not left going down the “They hate me. What did I do wrong? X, Y, Z” spiral.
“Narcissistic crashes” or “narc crashes” are the periods in which our vulnerable selves are exposed. Think of them as the complete opposite of a narcissistic high. During a crash, we’re having to face a variety of wounds we’ve put away, never having the chance to learn how to cope with them. Because of this, we lack the skills to ever handle these wounds on our own. Being made aware of our vulnerable self without proper support from others can feel like another bleeding wound in itself that we’re constantly trying to avoid and defend against.
Narc crashes can feel like so many things. I’ve heard it described as a knife to the chest, having your heart torn out, being repeatedly kicked so hard in the gut that you can’t breathe— all of those are pretty accurate to describing what it’s like being forced to deal with a grief, shame, and anger you’re unequipped to handle.
The pain of a narc crash is simultaneously terrifying and infuriating to us, which is why we have urges— to become hostile since we don’t know how else to express the degree of our pain, or to manipulate in order to gain what we desperately need to feel better.
As children, we don’t have the emotional capacity to regulate these feelings and are more likely to act upon them.
As we get older, we learn how to deal with narc crashes in less destructive ways. Many of us learn to write using the strongest words in our vocabulary. Others have found people who they can rely on for the attention and validation required to tip them out of a crash and back to grandiosity. Some of us may still choose violence, but direct our anger toward a designated object (throwing a certain rock at a certain wall or having something as a punching bag) instead of destroying property and getting into fights.
One of the ways I’ve learned to deal with narc crashes is by learning to express my emotions as what they actually are. I’ll admit I was a violent child, but it wasn’t all anger. That was just what I would act upon. I realized that I was ashamed of showing how I really felt, because I allowed others to drill in the idea that the hurt I felt made me weak. Once I taught myself it was okay to cry, I did that a lot more and lashed out a lot less. And honestly, it feels so much better to cry until you’re breathing stops than it does to punch a wall until your hands bleed. Getting the right catharsis changed a lot.
Make it your next goal to unlearn your views on crying. It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of healing. And please take care of yourself. Until next time. 💜
