The Quiet Form of Narcissism

Narcissism isn’t always brash and abrasive; sometimes, it’s quiet.

If we think of narcissism as an extreme form of self-protection and, paradoxically, an inability to adequately care for oneself, it can manifest in several ways. The more obvious version is what we call grandiose narcissism, which is marked by impulsivity, a tendency to boast, a chronic need for admiration, an obsession with becoming and remaining the best (and only feeling secure when one is, or at least believing one will), a lack of empathy, and a preoccupation with status and public perception.

On the other end is vulnerable narcissism, which is marked by a preoccupation with emotional security (remaining free of external judgment), the secret belief that one is special because they’ve suffered more than others or have some unique gift, perfectionism (believing that others won’t approve of them unless they’re flawless), chronic risk-aversion, and people-pleasing. Unlike the grandiose narcissist, who wins acclaim by bucking norms, the vulnerable type appears as a saint to hide their sin—the deeper the shame, the more godlike the presentation.

Vulnerable narcissists seem to prefer to become part of an elite group, which would allow them to stand out in the broader society, but not to lead it. Grandiose narcissists, who value security, and thus approval, less, seem to prefer to lead that type of group while detesting all of those who follow. And while both strongly value security, grandiose narcissists possess a stronger belief in themselves to acquire it (eventually devaluing their achieved comforts to motivate themselves to pursue more attractive ones). Grandiosity is a perpetual delusional cycle of optimism, where data are interpreted in a highly skewed and self-serving manner, while the vulnerable version of this personality structure incorporates a perpetual cycle of self-doubt, in part due to the strong bias toward negativity.

However, both entail a strong preoccupation with oneself.

With vulnerable narcissism, the self-centeredness is less obvious. Consider a time when you received an apology that didn’t feel like one, through which you were redirected from your feelings to theirs. In this respect, the conversation may divert from the feelings and experiences of the harmed to an exposition of the deep sense of shame felt by the accused, which now has to be managed. Rather than addressing one’s own emotions, the harmed may feel guilty for, in turn, harming the accused. In this respect, regardless of the circumstances, the conversations seem to revert to one specific person.

And that is, in large part, due to envy.

Both forms of narcissism are marked by a deep sense of envy, which accompanies shame. In the vulnerable form, envy is less obvious. Whereas the grandiose narcissist may berate, the vulnerable one subtly redirects attention back to themselves, as noted above. Here, the vulnerable narcissist, who feels entitled to the attention being afforded elsewhere, convinces themself and the other that they’re the real victim, or at least the one who was hurt more. Inducing guilt is preferred to bullying yet has the same long-term effect—minimizing the other.

In her profound work on narcissistically structured individuals, psychoanalyst Nancy McWilliams wrote, “In therapy, they may have the ego-syntonic expectation that the point of undergoing treatment is to perfect the self rather than to understand it and to find more effective ways of handling its needs. The demand for perfection is expressed in chronic criticism of self or others (depending on whether or not the devalued self is projected) and in an inability to find joy amid the ambiguities of human existence.” With insight, many of these patients, overwhelmed by shame and fear, will often tell us they know “what’s logical” only to chronically retreat to what’s familiar.

As McWilliams wrote, “One problem in helping them is conveying to them what it would be like to accept a person non-judgmentally and non-exploitively, to love others as they are, without idealizing, and to express genuine feelings without shame. Narcissistic people may have no concept of such possibilities; the therapist's acceptance of them can become the prototype for their emotional understanding of intimacy.”

It’s been argued that love cures self-doubt, but, equally important, the individual has to be able to accept it and find it valuable. Thus, the narcissistic individual may begin by addressing their dread of imperfection, asking themselves if love is solely reserved for the best in our culture—and if love is even worth pursuing.

If McWilliams is right and narcissistically-organized individuals profoundly need others but hardly love, then vulnerable narcissism implies the overwhelming desire to become important to others only to become more important than them, which is a difficult way to live.

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