Narcissists tend to turn their children into narcissists — and since a narcissist doesn’t realize he or she is a narcissist, there’s no bad intent. How does this happen? I watched a YouTube video over the weekend from an Australian psychologist who does a nice job of summarizing how it works. None of this is new to me, but I thought it was useful for those who haven’t spent years digging through books and articles about it. The same psychologist has an excellent summary of something which confuses a lot of people about narcissism. You’ve all seen examples of the loud, boisterous and overbearing narcissist, but what about the ones who are more introverted and vulnerable? This type is called a covert narcissist (or a vulnerable narcissist), and this is what my father was. In the first video, I strongly see myself in the ways my father treated me and in the second video, I see what my father was almost successful in making me become.
Deconstructing my old life’s hard, but I’m learning to be healthier
I’ve spent most of my life learning to let go of the things I thought were important.
My father almost turned me into a narcissist. Just like him. I didn’t know that, of course. He didn’t know that, either. I didn’t understand he was a narcissist, because I didn’t even know what clinical narcissism was. It never would have occurred to me, because my father — the god-like central figure of my childhood — was my standard for all that was right and normal.
I’ve spent my adult life on a long journey of recovery. It started while I was still in my late 20s when I vaguely realized something was wrong. That led to the realization that I had come from a very dysfunctional family. But I still had so many layers of dysfunction to take apart — and I had so much to learn in order to become an emotionally healthy adult.
Even now, I keep finding more habits to unlearn. I keep realizing that I have beliefs that need to change. But as I take apart the old pieces of ugly dysfunction — brick by brick — I slowly replace them with something better.
I’m slowly becoming an emotionally healthy man.
Hurt people attract others who know what it’s like to feel hurt
It was nearly 12 years ago. I had come back to see a psychologist with whom I’d been in therapy before. I had just ended a romantic relationship in a very confusing way — and I needed to understand why.
I laid out the facts for the psychologist about what had just happened. I explained my confusion. Why had I ended the relationship — but then wanted her back after she finally gave up and walked away from me? Was I crazy or what?
She listened for most of that hour and then gave me a little bit of feedback and asked a few follow-up questions. At one point, she said — as though it was the most obvious thing in the world — that this woman with whom I’d been in love had come from a dysfunctional and troubled past, but hadn’t dealt with it.
I didn’t think I’d said anything that would lead to that conclusion, so I expressed surprise.
“Oh, I don’t know what her issue is yet,” she said, “but she wouldn’t have been attracted to you — and you couldn’t have been attracted to her — if she didn’t have issues just as serious as yours. People are attracted to others who are about as emotionally healthy as they are, whether they know it or not.”

Briefly: Living with loss of love hurts, but forgetting real love would be worse
Briefly: I’m fond of finding new ways to express what my heart needs to say
Briefly: I’m thankful for a neighbor such as Pedro
A year after surreal experience of surgery, I’m still happy to be alive
‘Conservative’ and ‘liberal’ should refer to temperament, not politics
Listening to our own inner voice can be the toughest thing we do
Search for new partner leaves me wondering where she’s waiting