Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) is a mental health condition characterised by an exaggerated sense of self-importance, a deep need for admiration, and a lack of empathy for others. When I first heard the diagnosis, I didn’t believe it. For years, I had associated narcissists with negative traits like manipulation and selfishness. But after being diagnosed at 33 in 2024, I found a sense of relief that helped me understand myself better.
I was the only child of a wealthy family, born after many years of trying to conceive. My parents were devoted to me, often telling me things like, “Dimitra, you are my whole world.” I had everything I wanted—luxurious gifts, trips, and their undivided attention. However, despite this, I struggled to form deep emotional connections with others.
At high school, I was popular with many friends, but I never truly bonded with anyone. Looking back, this aligns with NPD traits: I couldn’t open up to people because I feared vulnerability and losing control. As I explored my sexuality, I changed partners frequently without considering their feelings.
As an adult, I continued seeking admiration in the same way I had as a child. Instead of becoming a lawyer, I pursued theatre, aiming for recognition through my work. The validation I received from my plays gave me a sense of purpose.
Yet, inside, I felt fragile. From childhood, I believed my worth depended on success. This belief intensified after my mother’s death when I was 19. By my late twenties, I faced a series of crises: unemployment, the loss of my father due to complications from COVID-19, and a divorce that left me struggling to raise twin boys. These events led me to seek professional help.
My cousin’s wife, a psychiatrist, suggested I see a specialist. In my first session, I finally expressed my anger and sadness about life’s challenges. I shared my grief over my father’s passing and the pain of my divorce. It was a cathartic experience.
In the second session, I filled out a questionnaire that asked about my personality traits. I identified as an extrovert and described myself as confident and socially open, though I admitted to hiding my insecurities. It wasn’t until the third session that my psychiatrist told me I had NPD.
At first, I found it hard to accept. I had many friends and loved my children, so I didn’t think I fit the profile of a narcissist. My psychiatrist explained that while everyone has some narcissistic traits, mine were extreme enough to affect my relationships. He also noted that even though narcissists may have large social circles, they often feel deeply lonely, keeping their innermost thoughts private.
He added that controlled narcissism can be beneficial, giving people confidence to take risks. However, when it becomes unmanageable, it can lead to isolation and difficulty forming genuine connections.
My narcissism made me contradictory. I appeared confident but was deeply insecure. I often hid my weaknesses, fearing judgment. This likely stemmed from my childhood, where I was the center of attention. Signs of NPD can emerge early, especially in those who were overly praised or idolised as children.
For treatment, I was prescribed 10mg of Brintellix to manage mood swings and underwent weekly Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) sessions to improve my emotional intelligence. Telling friends and family about my diagnosis was challenging, but some were supportive. My cousin and his wife weren’t surprised—they had noticed my patterns over the years. Two close friends embraced me without making me feel ashamed or isolated.
Their acceptance was a turning point. It marked the first time I experienced a meaningful emotional connection with them, something therapy helped me achieve. One year after my diagnosis, I’ve processed the initial shock and now feel a sense of relief. I’m still seeing my psychiatrist, who encourages me to imagine hypothetical situations and reflect on how I would respond. He also urges me to open up more to others.
I’ve started to see positive changes. Recently, a friend asked me to wake up in the middle of the night to buy medicine for her, and I did it. I now understand the value of helping others, something I wouldn’t have done before.
There are still moments when I feel lonely and want to withdraw. But I remember my psychiatrist’s words: “This disorder is part of you. Beyond loneliness, it gives you ambition and success. Before you rush to blame it, think about what would remain of you if you removed it.”
It is who I am, and I’m learning to live with it.
