Narcissism: but not as we know it

We all have this impression of what narcissism is, it can be: somebody who overestimates their ability and skill, somebody who is a overconfident, somebody who can’t pass a window or mirror without taking a glance at, what they believe, is their incredibly good looks. This isn't not narcissism, yes a double negative. Moreover a narcissist, with power and fewer restraints, is both dangerous and incredibly unbearable. Just look at ex-president Donald Trump, Boris and his Johnson, even Caroline Lucas and her Sophomania/messiah complex can be just as insufferable as the latter. You are excused to google Sophomania, as I am still unsure whether I have used it correctly. It is an attempt to make you think I am clever, I believe this is also ironic, if I have indeed used it correctly.

The definition of Narcissism is: 

‘Excessive interest in or admiration of oneself and one's physical appearance.’ 

Rather than focus on the standardised view of narcissism, I’m approaching it with a different lens, I’m intrigued by the ‘interest in..oneself’, rather than the ‘admiration of oneself’. My point is, I believe Self-Loathing is just as narcissistic as Self-Admiration, and I do recognise the irony of a personal blog being a form of my unbearable narcissism. 

“Look at me and my ability to convey my inner monologue, see my use of big words such as Sophomania and…window, witness my existence…love me, please, for the love of science LOVE ME!!!” 

But even the most vainglorious (another big word I am using) are capable of self-loathing, and I use the example of stand up comedians, particularly those who self-deprecate as their tool for humour. Stand up is very similar to what I said in regards to writing a blog, it’s a form of peacocking or showing off. If stand up comedy isn’t vanity exemplified, then I don’t know what is, and you have my permission to stop reading this. However, if I’m right then I’m afraid you are now a slave to my garbage. Essentially stand up comedians stand up in front of a room full of strangers and say something they have written in the belief of what they have written will result in laughter from those in the room. Shocking revelation I know. But their assumption that people will laugh is narcissism, they have told themselves: 

“I am fucking funny, and this audience will get joy from what I have to say”.

Trust me they do say that, otherwise they wouldn’t be doing it. Now I reference those comedians who use self-deprecation, which itself is a pure form of self-loathing. I will use the UK comedian and panelist from 8 out of 10 cats, Jon Richardson as an example, not because I googled self-loathing comedians and he came up, but because fuck you that’s why. For those who know Jon Richardson, will know that he is walking neurosis, he jokes about his constant anxieties and obsession of cleanliness. Those who don’t know him, then here is a joke of his: 

“I’m shit at real life; I play video games to feel less shit. In 5 minutes I want to win the World Cup and shoot some baddies…I don’t want to be crying on the floor in a video game as well as my own room.” Jon Richardson

Breaking that down, it shouldn’t be funny should it? But it is. He uses humour as his coping mechanism. So he is being both self-loving, by opting to be on national television, and self-loathing, through his self-deprecation, at the same time. Irony, something that resonates with a British audience. 

We all have similar anxieties as we all experience very similar realities, even if we don’t think we do. I personally use the exact same formula to deal with mine. I’m very much a ‘I’ll make a joke out of it before anybody else does’ kind of guy. This is so it becomes less embarrassing to me when people find out about an insecurity of mine. Let me spin you an honest yarn about one such occurrence:

At the age of 20 I shit myself, and not some little turtle head touching cloth shit myself, a full on filled my boots with chocolate milkshake shit myself. Most people at Chichester University between 2010-2014 will know this story. Why? Because I told everybody. Why did I tell everybody, maybe it's because I'm boring and don't have anything decent to talk about, maybe I'm just crude, I personally believe it was because I was the victim of a practical joke from my housemates. They thought it’d be funny to put laxatives in my drink, and I haven’t been able to drink strongbow pear since…but I wasn’t the only person who now knew that I had shit myself. I could either trust them not to tell anyone in the hope nobody else finds out or I could tell everyone, my only two options. Its hard to trust people who put fucking laxatives in your cheap out of date cider. 

I remember it like it was yesterday, we were pre-drinking before going to a surprise birthday party for my soon to be girlfriend, Melissa. Southampton had just beaten Manchester City 3-2 at home in our first season back in the Premier League. There were cans of strongbow pear strewn across the floor, the floor was sticky from god knows what fluids that had be spilled previously and I stood up from our vomit inducing, mint green couch to celebrate. Upon change in gravity, my intestines gurgled with anticipation and I went for a, what I thought would be, your standard bottom belch. Alas what followed was what I can only describe as a historical reenactment of Pompeii, however instead of molten hot lava, it was molten hot gravy. I ran to the toilet, attempting to hold back the burst dam with my hand, I slammed the door shut and de-clothed. My boxers, ruined. My jeans, beyond repair. The toilet bowl, decimated. I could hear my ‘friends’  howling with laughter, and it was at that poignant moment with nothing on but my Sainsbury’s basics trainer socks on that I knew…it was a ruse. Luckily one of my housemates had left their joggers on the floor in the bathroom, needless to say I didn’t use the toilet roll to wipe my arse. 

So we were now running late to the surprise birthday party for Mel, only now both drunk and traumatised. We missed the actual surprise, I don’t need to tell you why, and the 1st thing I said to Mel wasn’t,

 “Happy 21st Birthday my muse, my flame, I’m so sorry for being late” 

it was,

“It was the weirdest thing Melissa, the weirdest thing….I shit myself, but I didn't mean to”

I am just as surprised as you are that she has stayed with me since. But I didn’t stop there, I went from person to person at that party to let them know I was late because I had shit myself, ensuring the response was laughter with me rather than at me. I was the butt of the jokes, pun well and truly intended, but I was the one instigating it, I had won... 

Once I had completed the rounds, I then spent the majority of the party occupying Mel's upstairs lavatory, I repeat on her surprise 21st birthday party. This was both self-deprecating as it was self-defacating.      

But Chris, you magnificent bastard, I still don’t see the link between self-loathing and narcissism. Well if I put it like this, self-loathing is being self-interested. Internally or externally perpetuated, it is a form of narcissism. If ‘every action has an equal and opposite reaction’ then self-loathing is the equal and opposite reaction to admiration. It is not the opposite to narcissism as it’s still very much, 

“me, me, me!”

When you are self-loathing you are also telling yourself that you are special, your experiences and your ordeals are special, they are happening because of you and in spite of you. The same goes for the age old slandering,

 “you think the world revolves around you’

…well yes. If our experiences and our own realities are centered around us, then we should forgive ourselves for tending to see one point of view. The secret to not being an arsehole all the time is putting your point of view to one side and hear/read/listen to somebody else’s point of view, as their reality may be slightly different to yours. I am also not saying that either admiration or self-loathing are bad things. In healthy doses, they are necessary for feeling good about yourself as well as grounding yourself.  It’s like telling myself,

“Chris, you looking damn fine today in your wellington boots, but don’t get carried away with yourself, you still only have the emotional range of a light switch.”

What I don’t want you to think is that it’s bad to admire or hate yourself. It’s ok to show off your gold medal, you worked hard for that motherfucker. It’s also ok to cry yourself to sleep for not getting gold, while only receiving a participation medal, because you worked hard for that gold, but you’re just shit.

Narcissism, then, is 2 parallel spectrums, we are all on them. At either end we have arseholes, as well as whatever the opposite to arsehole is. Just be aware where you sit on those spectrums so you don’t always give off arsehole vibes. But also allow yourself to slide either way on those spectrums, because its good for your fucking mental health. 

Why am telling you this, honestly I haven’t the faintest idea, it seemed like a cool thing to write about, I got halfway in, started questioning myself, realised I was in too deep, so I had to finish it. I hope you enjoyed it, if you didn’t then maybe you’re an arsehole. Did you ever think about that? No you didn’t you only ever think about yourself, you narcissist.