Narcissism is a relatively new buzzword – and so it is easy to dismiss yet another article on the subject with a bored yawn and a roll of the eyes. Anyone who has ever p****d another person off runs the risk of being labelled a narcissist… probably by someone who actually is one.

However, the reality of living alongside a bona fide narcissist, whether officially diagnosed or not (a notoriously difficult condition to pin down – even if the ‘patient’ in question has agreed to seek help) can, at best, be exhausting – at worst, devastating. Using reputable sources for deep-dive research can provide us with enough of what we need to know to be able to reach a reasonably confident conclusion. That doesn’t make us an expert on the subject, and it isn’t all clean-cut and absolute, as in “they’re either a narcissist or they’re not”. There is always a spectrum and usually some overlaps. And there are many forms of narcissism, so we’ll find ourselves following thread after thread – until we hit paydirt. That place where most or all of the boxes are ticked, including details that send a shock wave through us. It’s as if we are reading or hearing about our own personal story.

One subtype of Narcissistic Personality Disorder is vulnerable (sometimes referred to as covert) narcissism. 

The sufferer, who is usually completely unaware of their condition, has extremely low self-esteem and zero tolerance for perceived or actual criticism. Defence and denial come swiftly, often accompanied by fury. Which can quickly turn to rage when challenged. They are master deflectors, adeptly turning the spotlight onto their critic and steering the argument away from the original point. The way in which they argue is also designed not to reach a solution or compromise, but to make their opponent the one in the wrong. They will repeat the same thing again and again, making that the issue, instead of the actual problem.

And then they shut it down. By this time, the other party has become frustrated and upset to the point of tears or even screaming (until they come to know better) – and are then accused of being a psycho, a nutcase, of having lost the plot. The damage that this kind of episode leaves in its wake is soul-destroying and can take weeks or even months to recover from. The question has to be, has it all been worth it? To either participant? The vulnerable narcissist puts themselves through a huge amount of stress, purely to protect themselves from feeling criticised and viewed in a negative light. Is it honestly worth it? They inflict a deep wound on their relationship and leave the other person feeling sick and mentally and emotionally beaten – not to mention unloved… hated, even.

The bottom line is, the vulnerable NPD is deeply, deeply damaged. They exist in a permanent state of self-protection, sometimes being very open about the fact that they can’t tolerate being criticised, admitting that their immediate reaction will always be to defend themselves. They will say things like “I’ve been attacked all of my life and I’m not taking it anymore!” Obviously, no one enjoys being criticised, especially when it is unwarranted or harsh. But to the hypersensitive, whose sense of self-worth is always teetering on the edge of disintegration, it feels like war. The critic becomes an instant enemy, even if it is the person the vulnerable narcissist is closest to. But there is a difference between honest, valid criticism from a hurt or frustrated partner and spiteful nagging. Yes, we are supposed to use ‘I’ statements when expressing how a partner’s attitude or behaviour is negatively affecting us, but it can be difficult in the heat of the moment. And even when we do remember, it makes no difference to them – they still feel personally attacked. 

At the bottom of all of this is childhood trauma. Narcissism can be, according to reliable sources, at least partially genetic – but, in any case, it develops during the early years. The most common cause is neglect, abuse, and – it goes without saying – excessive criticism and lack of acceptance. However, vulnerable Narcissistic Personality Disorder can also have its roots in excessive praise that doesn’t reflect reality. Obviously, not everyone who has a neglectful or abusive childhood develops narcissism (of whatever subtype), although it is true that we all possess some narcissistic traits to one degree or another. Why one person becomes so infected that it poisons their own (and as a result, other people’s) lives, and others don’t, no one can say for sure. Human beings have different tolerance levels and coping mechanisms. Some are more emotionally intelligent, whilst others are naturally more self-centred and self-serving. And those who are more accommodating, more likely to soul-search and accept personal responsibility, are more likely to be taken advantage of by a narcissist… especially if they too have experienced neglect and rejection. In other words, both parties have been seriously damaged – but respond in completely different ways.        

So, it is clear that the vulnerable narcissist has a strong sense of victimhood. 

Of having been badly let down in the past. It is my observation that a person who suffers this condition has become emotionally stuck in time, at a particular age. It might be younger than 10, for example, or around mid-teens. They physically grew into adulthood, whilst inwardly remaining chained to a much younger version of themselves. Because they don’t deeply question themselves (because they can’t bear to face their own behaviour, shame being too crushing for them to cope with), they don’t change. They might even state, quite firmly, that they can’t change. Take it or leave it. Like it or lump it. Personal change requires conscious effort, and a person will only change when they genuinely want to. In which case, they commit to the effort. But if they don’t believe that they need to change, or don’t possess the moral fibre, they won’t. 

However, a vulnerable NPD can change, over time, and under certain circumstances. To a degree, at least. 

If they are consistently around another who is endlessly supportive, encouraging, and forgiving, and who takes care of them, mentally and emotionally, they can become less reactive. They might even start to like themselves more, causing them to relax a little. Of course, whoever this support system is, they need to be willing to pay a price. To be willing to live without genuine emotional support (you aren’t getting that from a vulnerable narcissist because they can barely handle themselves). And to become hypervigilant… always ‘reading’ the mood, checking the atmosphere. They have to be prepared to live with unpredictability, because a vulnerable narcissist is easily offended or unsettled. They can have praise and appreciation heaped on them for weeks on end and will respond like a delighted child. However, if (when) they are advertently or inadvertently upset, or in receipt of one criticism, it all comes crashing down. A million rights are not enough to offset one wrong in the mind of the vulnerable NPD. The supporter is back to being the enemy. 

Which then leads to punishment. It might, under certain circumstances, come in the form of a spiteful act. Usually, the most common punishment a vulnerable NPD dishes out is the cold shoulder. Silence, or a muted, flat deameanour that can potentially continue for weeks. Heaviness hangs in the air, unspoken blame, punctuated by loud sighs and bouts of impatience or irritation. Which can be agonising for the ‘carer’ to live with. The only way to survive this is to develop a thick skin and a high level of resilience. Because, all of a sudden, out of the blue, the sulking comes to an end… as if it never occurred. And the process begins again, following the same pattern. The vulnerable narcissist is absolutely dependent upon the one who is willing to allow this to continue. It means that they get to live a more stable, consistent life than they would on their own, or with someone who demands more of them (which they wouldn’t tolerate). Or another narcissist. It is rare for them to have many, if any, close friends, because: 

a) They find it virtually impossible to open up to others.

b) They easily feel socially uncomfortable. 

c) They tend to expect others to make the effort, as in staying in touch with them.

Hence, they can very easily end up being alone and lonely, too proud to ask for help, and mismanaging their lives. 

Anxiety is an ever-present companion to the vulnerable narcissist. It either hovers in the background or completely consumes them. They are hyper-aware of the potential for danger, which can come across as nitpicking to the more relaxed or laid-back. Controlling, even. And yes, they do prefer to be in control, because they believe, deep down inside, that their way is the right way. But it still comes down to a desperate need to feel safe. Well, mostly, anyway. 

And possibly the biggest fear of the vulnerable NPD is that of abandonment. Which is ironic, because they can push others to the point of feeling the need to escape them.

The second is the fear of being ‘outed’ to the world, of having their facade demolished… especially deliberately, by someone who knows them better. They carefully cultivate an image which they then project as reality to those who know them only superficially. This is more likely to occur when the vulnerable is not in a secure place in their life, and in need of feeling accepted. It isn’t genuine acceptance and approval, of course, because it is based on manipulation. And whilst this is going on, they are likely to be creating havoc behind closed doors. Having that mask torn away leaves them feeling exposed and outraged… toward the person who knows the truth. The message is loud and clear: “The approval of strangers or associates is more important to me than yours. I’ve already s**t in the nest I share with you, so it’s too late to pretend otherwise. However, those other nests are still clean and shiny, so don’t you dare mess them up for me.”    

Why would anyone choose to remain closely connected to a vulnerable narcissist? 

Well, for many reasons. They can be incredibly sweet and loving, in between the dark, destructive bouts. They crave approval, and when in an uplifted mindset will do things they believe you’ll like. It isn’t feigned, either. When in this place, they can be charming company and highly affectionate. And they are vulnerable – as we said earlier, they’re children in adult bodies. Angry, vengeful children… who can also be loving and playful. Those of us who have been blessed (or cursed) with a highly developed sense of responsibility would find it very difficult to ‘abandon’ a vulnerable narcissist. 

Another reason for staying is because we too are vulnerable. We’re accustomed to emotional abuse, from childhood and/or more recently. In other words, it’s what we’ve come to accept as ‘normality’. We take it all in our stride, albeit painfully, grateful for when the tide recedes, fearfully awaiting its return. It’s all just grist for our screwed up mill. 

Misguided guilt is something else that can hold us prisoner, with any form of narcissism. Having been repeatedly blamed for their unhappiness and disappointment in life, even though we know better we fear that they might be right. Even if it isn’t stated out loud, it can definitely feel implied. So, our skewed thinking creates a need to be proven not guilty – for it to be acknowledged that, in fact, we’ve been patient, self-sacrificing, and supportive. We’ve been a good person, worthy of recognition… not the bad, selfish person we’re being painted.

Hope is another reason we stick around. The pleasant times outweigh the dark, punishing, emotionally destructive times. It’s a bit like the pain of childbirth; with the passing of time, we forget how bad it was. Until we expose ourselves to it again.

Then there’s shame. We’re duty bound to keep defending the vulnerable NPD through their periodic bursts of temper and reactivity toward other people. We consistently excuse that behaviour, even though we hate and fear it, because otherwise we have to admit that we’re choosing to associate with someone who is capable of such behaviour. Which means we have to question ourselves, our life choices, and our future. And that is terrifying. 

Or, we might, despite all that has been said, have love for this extremely unpredictable and difficult personality. We might have created a life together that is important to us. We might even have found that the challenge of being closely connected to them has forced us to grow in some ways. Nevertheless, a relationship with a person with vulnerable Narcissistic Personality Disorder is going to be a hell of a rough ride at times. If we are choosing to remain in that relationship, the time has to come when we start to take genuine care of ourselves. Boundaries have to be put in place… clear cut, nailed down, and non-negotiable. We have to consciously work on our own mental and emotional well-being. And we have to have access to a support system outside of the relationship, as much as the NPD will loathe and fear that, because they can’t bear to think that they might be discussed in a less than flattering light. It will never be about bitching but about offloading… a form of release. We are going to have to manage our own anxiety, soothe ourselves, and develop a thick skin. We won’t always succeed, of course, because we are human. But if we are going to commit to one who suffers from vulnerable Narcissistic Personality Disorder, we need to enter into the fray with eyes and mind wide open… and the heart somewhat guarded.