Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).
When I first heard the word diagnosis. I didn’t believe them.
It is a defined mental health condition, characterized by a need for admiration, a lack of empathy and a great sense of self-importance. Until I was diagnosed in 2024, at the age of 33, everything I read about narcissists was negative: they pushed others to get ahead, they were manipulative or two-dimensional. I didn’t think I was one.
But after a year I feel relief.
As the only child of a wealthy family, born after many years of effort, I brought instant joy to my parents. My father devoted himself to me, saying things like: ‘Dimitra, you are my whole world.’ I had everything I wanted – toys, gifts and trips – but above all, the undivided attention and love of my parents.
In high school, I was popular with a lot of friends, but I couldn’t say who I really bonded with.
Looking back, it felt consistent with NPD: I couldn’t open up to people and show the “real me” for fear of being too vulnerable and losing control.
As I began to explore my sexuality, I would change sexual partners without caring about their feelings.
As an adult, I constantly admired others as I always did with my parents. Instead of becoming a lawyer as I once thought I would, I studied theater and became a director and writer so that my work would be appreciated. I loved getting to know you.
Yet through it all, inside, I was fragile. I had a sense from childhood that my personal worth depended on success.
This feeling was further developed after the death of my mother when I was 19 – but seeing a psychiatrist was the catalyst. A series of crises. In my late twenties, I was unemployed, I had also lost my father to complications from Covid-19, and I was heading for divorce, struggling to raise twin boys.
I would get very depressed when things didn’t turn out the way I wanted them to. If one of my plays gets even one bad review, I will cry alone at home for days. I got mine Impatient when I don’t get what I want and stop seeing the person I’m dating or any friend who criticizes me a little.
eventually, My cousin’s wife, a psychiatrist, suggested I seek professional help. I agreed, knowing something needed to change.
At my first meeting with my own psychiatrist, we simply talked. He listened as I finally vented all my anger and frustration at how life was treating me. I told him how much my dad meant to me, how empty I felt without his support, and how upset I was about my divorce.
During the second session, he asked me to fill out a long questionnaire. It was asked if I was an introvert or an extrovert – I’m the latter – and how I felt about my self-image, to which I replied that I was very reserved and socially open, but hid my inner insecurities very well.
It wasn’t until our third session that my psychiatrist told me I had NPD.
With so many friends and children in my life that I loved, I didn’t think I met the criteria for a drug.
To my disbelief, my psychiatrist assured me that all people have some narcissistic trait but that people like me have it so much that they can seriously affect their interpersonal relationships.
While narcissists have a really large social circle, on the inside, they are very lonely, keeping all the important parts of their inner lives to themselves.
He told me that when narcissism is controlled, it gives people the confidence to take risks and explore life. but When it gets out of hand, the inability to connect with others can lead to loneliness.
My own narcissism made me very conflicted. i can I looked confident, but I was deeply insecure and never honest because I didn’t want others to see my flaws.. This possibility stems from my childhood: NPD symptoms can begin at a young age and may develop in people who as children were the center of their parents’ world.
For treatment, I was prescribed 10 mg of a drug called Braintilax to help with my mood swings and cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) once a week to help develop emotional intelligence in front of others.
Then came the hard part of telling friends and family.
My cousin and his psychiatrist wife were not surprised – in fact, she had been suspicious of my behavior over the years.
When I told my two closest friends, they hugged me without making me feel embarrassed, or like a social pariah.
They accepted me, and their reaction meant the world. It was the first time I had a really strong, emotional connection with my friends, and it wouldn’t have been possible without therapy.
A year after my diagnosis, I have processed the initial shock and now feel better. For the first time in my life, I Finally realized that I am in my original place.
I still see my psychiatrist, who shows me hypothetical situations happening to others and asks me to imagine how I would feel in the same scenario. He also encourages me to open up more to people.
I am slowly seeing a positive change. A friend once asked me to get up in the middle of the night to take medicine for her, which I did. I wanted to help her because now I know more about how friends do things for each other.
In the past, I probably wouldn’t have worried.
There are still times when I feel lonelier than ever and withdrawn from people. But when that happens, I remember my psychiatrist’s words: ‘This disorder is part of you. Beyond loneliness, it gives you hope and success, and before you rush to blame it, think about what would be left of you if you took it away.
This is who I am and I’m learning to live with it.
Do you have a story you want to share? Contact Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk by email.
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