My Narcissistic Tendencies Of Denying Pain
I was angry. Every media channel seemed to have their own definition of a “sensation.” With every piece of news, juicier than ever, they collected their massive checks by feeding the eyes of the reader with horror. They called for social justice, believing it was one’s duty to care.
That’s what I felt. In reality, I know nothing about the average news reporter. I have no right to speculate on the legitimacy of their intentions. It could be passion, it could be money. Or maybe, like me, they are in a lifelong battle with themselves, forcing the world to bend to their vision of what is true. Maybe, like me, they know nothing about the truth. It’s tinged with deep-buried pain and alienation.
I usually act when I care. During the pandemic, all I saw was people lacking the strength and faith to move forward and stay optimistic. It was hard to say if the media was infecting people with negativity, or if people were infecting the media. Regardless, it was full of hate, division and perpetual sorrow.
People’s pity made me angry. It was preventing them from taking responsibility for their own happiness. I wanted to empower these individuals to be happy within, despite the world’s situation. Deep down, I wanted to help them develop strong and resilient spirits that would allow them to overcome any obstacle and find the happiness they deserved. In reality, I’ve struggled to accept my own emotions I had always been ashamed of, treating them as weakness. I was angry because I had never given myself the luxury to be vulnerable.
During the crisis, I didn’t read the news. I used people’s weakness. emotions to boost my arrogance, pretending to be better than them. I preached self-empowerment as if I had mastered it myself, reaching a dreamed destination without realizing it had always been a journey.
I didn’t care about the news because that horror never touched me directly. I was prescribing mental hygiene, preaching personal limitations and boundaries. I said I wasn’t going to fake my care so others could accept me, while acceptance was all I sought indeed.
The world, I blamed, was guilt-tripping us to care. They fought their own battles and wanted to imprison others to believe their cause, turning them into pawns, mere means to their desired end.
It was all I saw on the media: pointing fingers at one another, foaming mouths of self-righteousness, eyes full of pain, and hearts charged with desire for revenge. I thought the media used people’s wounds to make them care.
I, on the other side of the barricades, was a narcissist establishing my own media of self-worth by “raising above the weak.” While people were raising their voices daily for justice in the streets, I was fighting a battle of my own — trying hard to accept my own weaknesses and imperfections.
In fact, I couldn’t accept pains of others as I lacked acceptance for myself. I boasted my pride and ego even more when I was able to heal from the loss of my mother. In my vain mind, I was convinced that death was a one-time experience that I had managed to overcome for good, as if I would never face pain again. Now I know it was my foolish arrogance. Fear, pain, or suffering cannot be controlled or completely avoided. It’s not about running away from it, but finding a way to move forward despite it. That’s where true growth happens. By humbling my ego, I learnt from my mistakes and challenges.
Crisis, pandemic. Life has never been certain. It was an ultimate test. While it seemed to me that people were choosing to drown in their sorrows instead of strengthening their ability to love and accept the pain of the struggle, I was the one who needed to accept my own pain.
It was easy to love people at their best, preaching resilience, and it was hard to love them at their worst, provide space for the wounded, as I lacked that space for myself.
Refusing to accept my imperfections, my emotions, and my weakness, I was haunted by the illusion of perfection. I searched for the perfect strength, happiness, and lifestyle, just like many others who fought for justice, searched for the perfect peace, society, relationships, and love.
But I have learned that striving for perfection is not the key to a fulfilling life. Instead, what matters more is to accept the dark side of this journey.
Pain brings our attention to the separation within us, reminding us of limitations and the truth of being human, and by surrendering to it, we can become whole and alive again.
