Exploring the complex dynamics between empaths and narcissists reveals a fascinating interplay of emotional depth and surface-level self-absorption.
For some reason, empaths and narcissists have become hot keyword searches for this website, no doubt because I’ve so often talked about my dealings with empaths (the real kind that feel others’ feelings) and narcissists (the real ones who’ve been diagnosed by a professional, not people who are thinking of themselves and not you). If that’s what brought you to this post today, then perhaps I can shed some light on the two and their differences, based on my own experiences and observations. And yes, my experiences and observations—because anything else would be hearsay or someone else’s experience.
Real empaths feel too much. Real narcissists don’t seem to feel anything, or at least not in regard to others’ feelings. Showing your vulnerable side to a narcissist in an attempt to explain how his or her behavior might be hurtful will just invite more abuse, whether they’re in a relationship with you or you just happen to be the latest fixation of the narcissist who’s trying to make his or her own deep personal pain go away. Narcissists—at least the ones I’ve had experiences with—have a deep self-loathing. That might seem incongrous with their arrogant me-me-me-me-me-me-me attitude on display, but they have a tremendous sense of unworthiness that causes them to lash out at others in an attempt to increase their self-esteem. The ones I’ve known personally have an unfathomably deep sense of shame about something in their lives, usually in early childhood. I don’t know if it’s true of all narcissists, but the ones in my observation have abandonment issues with at least one parent, all stemming from something that happened when they were pre-schoolers, and have ensured they never get close enough to anyone again to feel abandoned.
Whereas the narcissist doesn’t connect well or much with others, the empath connects too much. The empath literally feels what someone else feels, whether it’s strong emotion or physical pain. I know because I am one, and I’ve made friends with other empaths over the years because it’s helped me deal with my difficulties. I have frequently felt a heavy pain in my chest when someone was near—and by now I can tell the difference (most of the time) between someone else’s physical pain and my own—only to find out that the person was having heart trouble. I’ve felt the inner anxiety of a person, the hidden stresses behind the smile, the anger no one else could see right before someone lashed out or became violent. I can explain it in several ways but if you don’t believe that one person’s feelings can be perceived by another, then no amount of scientific, psychological, or spiritual explanation will convince you. All I can tell you is what I’ve experienced myself, and it’s both a blessing and a curse.
Being an empath is at its most incredible when you’re in a loving, bonded relationship and giddy with the newness of discovering each other. It’s at its worst when you let your own feelings be overshadowed by someone else’s, particularly when those feelings are loaded with anxiety or grief. It’s for these reasons that I save myself the agony of hanging out around airports and medical facilities—too much intense negative emotion by others leaves me feeling…rubbed raw. But even worse for an empath is being in a relationship with a narcissist.
Non-narcissists on a negative or depressed binge are bad enough but the diagnosed narcissist bonded with a feeling, sensitive empath? Hell for the empath. The empath, for example, may be looking forward to celebrating their first anniversary. She wants to go out for a picnic dinner at sunset. She’s exhausted after being cooped up with a sick baby for the past week but the grandparents are babysitting, the picnic basket is packed, she’s put on her prettiest dress, and she’s so happy and excited as she waits for her husband to come through the door after work. He’s been promising her this outing for the past month, and she can’t wait. Then hubby walks in and plops down in front of the TV to watch the news. He’s sullen, unhappy. He tells her he doesn’t want to go out for the picnic. He’ll just eat the sandwiches while he watches TV. He tells her he’s tired. She knows. She can feel how tired …
I’ve noted that many empath-narcissist relationships echo codependent-abuser relationships. (That’s not to say that all empaths are abused or that all codependents are abused, etc,etc.) I cannot think of a single empath I know personally who isn’t or didn’t used to be codependent—in other words, a people-pleaser/self-sacrificer/martyr. I’m a recovering codependent and I must stay very conscious of doing things for myself and taking care of myself or else I’ll give up everything I want to make someone else happy. I’m more me-focused now that I’ve ever been and happier than I’ve ever been because I’m no longer putting everyone else ahead of me to the point of self-annihilation, but it’s hard for me to do. It’s not that I want to control people as many codependents do, but I want to control outcomes. I want everyone to be happy and fulfilled, even if that means I have to give up what I want again and again.
One of the most gifted (or most cursed) empaths I know is in a relationship with a female narcissist. When he is away from her, such as at his job or on a business trip, his true personality comes out. He’s a gentle, happy person who spends his time making others feel good, too, or talking them through difficult times. When he goes home to her, he becomes a mirror to what she wants. I’ve seen him become irrational whenever she’s been in one of her irrational snits, to the point of sounding as if he’s channelling her. It becomes her words, her emotions pouring out of his mouth. If she feels insecure or angry or no matter how abusive she is toward him, …
Her traumatic past wasn’t fate; it was a conspiracy to build the perfect psychic weapon, and tonight, the weapon fights back.
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