Sometimes I feel like the fact that I run multiple blogs conforms to stereotypes about narcissists.
I have another blog, which is dedicated to fandom stuff. It’s not connected to this one because I didn’t want to deal with being out as a narcissist in that context. NPD isn’t exactly a well-liked or sympathetic illness, as mental illnesses go, and while my fandom blog isn’t big or popular, I’ve gotten more than one death threat. I don’t really like getting those, and I’d prefer random people have as few reasons to send me angry letters as possible.
And yet, separating these halves of my identity online feels disingenuous. Like I’m lying to everyone in both spaces. I typically post here only when I have something to say that reads to me as explicitly narcissistic, or when I want to say something about my NPD specifically; otherwise, I post to my other blog. (It has more followers and thus I get more supply.)
But when I do that, I feel like I’m furthering the impression that narcissists can’t be normal people with normal lives. That I spend all my time obsessed with my reflection, I have no meaningful relationships, I’m some deadbeat abuser… etc. This is the kind of image people have of narcissists that makes them say things like “all narcissists should die”.
I have a fulfilling job doing something altruistic (in which no-one knows I’m a narcissist), I attend university (in which no-one knows I’m a narcissist), and I have plenty of friends and pleasant acquaintances (who don’t know I’m a narcissist). I have a Reddit account on which I post in advice forums about subjects where I’m knowledgeable (where anybody except the most diligent stalker wouldn’t know I’m a narcissist). The only people who know are the followers of this blog, my 3 closest friends, and my therapist.
I am, frankly, an unhealthy degree of terrified of letting this one specific fact about myself come to light, especially in a way that might connect back to my real identity. I stressed out a lot about getting an NPD-specific therapist because I was afraid of having it be written down in my medical chart, in spite of the existence of patient privacy laws. But even though I have a small handful of accepting friends (for whom I am very grateful), every time I leave my carefully curated circle of ignorance and look at the broader world, I see how much I am hated. “How do you think stalkers are created? DARVO: deny, attack, reverse victim and offender. Also, remember the Narcissist's Prayer: That didn't happen. And if it did, it wasn't that bad. And if it was, that's not a big deal. And if it is, that's not my fault. And if it was, I didn't mean it. And if I did, you deserved it.”
For a while, I considered writing a book describing my experiences as a narcissist. Perhaps, I thought, if people understood us better, they wouldn’t hate us so much. But my enthusiasm about all the people I could help by doing that was dampened by the realization that if I ever did publish such a thing, I’d probably have to anonymize it so that it wouldn’t ruin my career.
I don’t want to contribute to the negative impression of narcissists by society—I’d reverse it if I could. But I don’t know how I would go about doing that without risking everything else I care about. From my peace of mind in running a small fandom blog, to my education and career. I want to help the disempowered, the sick, the helpless. But I can’t do that if I myself am helpless.
In the words of King Mongkut from The King And I: “Is a puzzlement”.