Hello, dear readers. It’s time yet again for me, Gideon U. Eklund, to descend from my golden pedestal to bring delicious words to you, the delightful, word-ravenous masses, for your ongoing consumption; which, let’s be honest, is the entire point of having a blog. Today, I’m going to get a little personal, a dash introspective, and a little ramble-y. I have a subject on the forefront of my mind, and as I’m sure you’ve guessed from the subtle nuances of this post’s title, that subject is me.
Strap in for greatness, kiddos.
When I first started this blog, lo three whole posts ago, I realized that, while I was out here slinging advice like hash at a greasy diner off of route 66, I hadn’t actually taken the time to introduce myself to any of you formally, beyond my name, and the fact that I am awesome. That is a mistake I plan to rectify today! (Or whatever day you’re reading this. I mean, technically any day you’re reading this could be the “today” I’m talking about, but let’s not get all technical and philosophical, huh?)
First and foremost, I love telling stories. (Obviously, or I wouldn’t be working to become a published author, right?) I love making up plots, sharing my ideas with friends, and creating characters in entirely different worlds. (Hell, if a video game has a good enough character creator, that’s where I will spend 75% of my time in that game. Super hero games always seem to have the best ones, don’t you think?) I also like to make people laugh—whether intentionally or not—and I can’t imagine myself not doing any of those aforementioned things.
Now, that being said, here’s the kicker: I “suffer” from narcissism. I use quotation marks because it doesn’t really feel like I’m suffering at all. A lot of people assume that, when they hear the term “narcissism” or “narcissist,” that they picture some douche bag, holding a hand mirror to themselves, and telling everyone within earshot how they are so much better than everyone else; the kind of person who is always the bad guy from a rival frat in some 80’s coming-of-age sex comedy. The guy who is dating the love interest of the main character, and wants to get the main character OUT of Delta Kappa Kai before Rush Week is over, even if they have to enlist the stuffy old dean’s help to do it!
Author’s Note: That guy’s name is Chet Smugly. He uses phrases like, “That sounds like a poor people problem.” I am not a Chet Smugly. Many, many narcissists are not a Chet Smugly.
Honestly, here’s the truth: narcissists have trouble thinking about others, yes, and we have trouble understanding other people’s emotions. We’re definitely motivated by our self-importance, but, we aren’t all monsters. Some of us are very nice, polite, and friendly people. But, that comes at a price– some narcissists like myself have spent their whole lives practicing the art of social interaction; it’s like playing a piano—nobody starts out an expert; but if you’re forced to do it almost every moment of every damn day for forty years, you eventually learn the fucking instrument.
I’m not trying to brag when I say this, but I genuinely get along with most people I meet. They think I’m funny, charming, (albeit a little weird, they say,) and I rarely get into big arguments with people, or butt heads with them. Part of that is because I would much rather get along with people than fight with them, but it’s to keep my life simple. The less drama I have to deal with, the less trouble it is for me. It’s not that I want to keep the peace to make others happy, it’s that it’s just too much damn trouble for me to deal with, and I’d much rather focus my energies on me. So, let’s not derail that train any longer than we have to, okay?
This means, when I’m interacting with people, it can sometimes be a very calculated thing for me, but it’s become an almost instantaneous muscle memory for my brain. (Brain memory? Wait, no—that’s just where regular memory is stored.) I’m told I’m great at talking and dealing with people, (which is 99% of my day job,) but it’s frequently just on-the-fly math:
[I want Target A to have Reaction X: run variation on Subject Y.
Make funny wherever possible. Insert joke about self.]
Most of the time, I don’t even realize I’m doing it, but if it works out, great! I have done the social interaction successfully. If it fails, I re-calibrate, add the new learned thing into my database, and try again with a new algorithm. (I’m also assuming I’m using all of this computer/math terminology correctly, but probably not. What am I, some kind of Mathologist? I’m a writer! I only know word stuff good!)
…Usually all of that calculating happens in a fraction of a second, like a reflex, but it is one of the most important fractions of a second in my life. This fraction of a second is tantamount to vital, immediate social survival, as far as my mind is concerned.
The additional problem is that if a subject on the table isn’t one that I’m actively interested in, entertained by, or about me in general, it can be a genuinely taxing effort to maintain the face-plate of civility and social interaction I’ve worked so hard to forge. Most people can just take it in stride, show interest in what others are saying, and empathize with them to some degree, thus making conversation that much easier, and that much more free-flowing and organic.
This is not an easy feat for me. This is like lifting something heavy off my chest while both my arms are pinned beneath it. But I will never, never, let anyone around me find out that’s what’s going on in my head. (Says the guy who is sending this confession out into the internet with his name stamped on it. Maybe I didn’t think this through.)
Too late! I live in the now! Moving on!
THE PART WHERE I SORT OF SOUND LIKE A MONSTER:
I have a very small circle of friends whom I feel I genuinely care about, nestled deep in the bosom of a larger circle of people who I’m friends with on a mainly social level. The ones closest to me understand that my way of caring is to go through the motions to make it look like I care. If I care about you, it’s because you bring something wonderful to my life, (be it adoration, or someone to share passions, hobbies, etc. with,) so I need my friends operating at peak efficiency to make that happen.
One of the hardest parts of this is that I generally do not think about the feelings of others. I’m just not very good at that, and it’s not a natural instinct for me. I know all the right words to sound empathetic when it is needed for social survival, and I know how to read a person’s feelings as part of my social math, but in reality, my sympathy and empathy levels are about as low as a Shemika Charles dance routine. (Yes! Run to Google, my puppets! RUN!)
If something is wrong with my friends or loved ones, and they come to me, (or I miraculously pull my head out of my own ass long enough to notice on my own,) I will do all the things I think need to be done to perform “maintenance” on that person. I will ask what’s wrong, if there’s anything I can do, or what have you, like a normal person would. Sometimes this friend may need to talk about something bothering them, so I will try and be a good listener— I need to get my loved one back to functioning in the way my life needs them to function, after all—but this is where things get tricky and dicey, because, as I’ve mentioned above, that sort of thing is a herculean feat for me.
Many times, I’m saying “yes,” or “mm-hmm,” and nodding as they speak, while I’m secretly replaying episodes of popular 80’s cartoons in my head, or fighting the urge to check the time. I have, on more than one occasion, accidentally walked out of the room while my girlfriend is talking to me. She doesn’t realize I’m still listening, but off I go to put something in my room, or squeeze in some small activity while she’s pouring her heart out to me, because I slipped up on a subconscious level.
Mostly, it’s because—while I do care in my own way—it’s not particularly interesting to care, especially when their problems don’t concern me directly. I want my friends and loved ones to be okay, but I don’t necessarily want to deal with that, if it’s boring and not about me. However, I will never, ever tell them that in the moment; and I will do my best to keep that part of me hidden away, because it’s not exactly a lovable trait, and over years of practice, I have come to understand that (gasp!) sometimes shit isn’t about me.
Author’s note: I usually hate that shit. But, I know I should maybe stop being a monster when I catch the inner me slipping out into the open like a greased weasel.
To be perfectly candid: my narcissism demands that I need my friends, family and loved ones to love me. This means that I need to do things the right way to keep that influx of adoration going. A friend who is down for maintenance is not providing me with what I need, and if I care about having that person in my life, I will take time to do whatever it takes to get them back up and running again; but in my mind, it’s not just about mending them. Sometimes, it’s just about getting this shit over with, so we can get off the boring subject of someone else’s problems, and back to the things I enjoy about having you around. (Your adoration of me, for example.)
“What a selfish way to behave!” says the made up person I’m quoting as a stand-in for most of the people who are thinking this right now. (I have named this person Brenda.)
Yeah, no shit, Brenda… It’s almost like I have a personality disorder or something.
THE PART WHERE I SOUND LESS LIKE A MONSTER, BUT PROBABLY STILL AM ONE:
I live very much in the now. Tomorrow hasn’t affected me yet, so it’s not a concern of mine. (I have been informed that this way of thinking is pretty bad, but if I’m hit by a bus tomorrow, joke’s on them, isn’t it!)
Part of the reason I’m so self-centered is because, (SPOILER ALERT,) in the end, throughout your life, there is exactly ONE person you are going to have around every day: that person is you. You may not realize it right now, but you are the most important person in your life, just like I’m the most important person in mine.
If you aren’t taking care of yourself mentally and emotionally, you are letting down that one, most important person. It’s not your friends who matter most, it’s not your family. Yes, they’re important for whatever reason they’re important to you, but they won’t be laying in your death bed right alongside you for that final trip to the Undiscovered Country. Once you’ve bowed out, the show ends, and you’d better be happy with the way that story has turned out, because nobody knows what happens after that. Your theology, religion, and belief system are all just a mass guessing game about the hereafter. Worry about what you know, and what matters NOW.
“That’s not a very nice or loving way to think about something like that!” I can hear Brenda saying right now. “You also shouldn’t belittle someone else’s beliefs!”
Oh, shut up, Brenda. That’s a post for another time, okay? Quit nagging me. Jesus.
In summation: take care of yourselves, even if taking care of other people is a step towards helping yourself. YOU are always going to be the most important thing in your life. Your happiness is tantamount to anyone else’s. (You’re probably just a little more selfless about it than I am, truth be told.)
Someday, I’ll show that Chet Smugly what for! Just you wait!