ORDINARILY we think of narcissism as an inordinate love of the self, with a corresponding lack of interest and feeling for other people. The narcissist is depicted as selfish and greedy, as someone whose attitude is “me first,” and in most cases, “me only.” But this picture is only partially correct. Narcissists do show a lack of concern for others, but they are equally insensitive to their own true needs. Often their behavior is self-destructive. Moreover, when we speak of narcissists’ “self” love, we need to make a distinction. Narcissism denotes an investment in one’s image as opposed to one’s self. Narcissists love their image, not their real self. They have a poor sense of self; they are not self-directed. Instead, their activities are directed toward the enhancement of their image, often at the expense of the self.
But aren’t we all concerned about our image, and don’t we invest a lot of energy trying to improve it? Many of us spend considerable time and money selecting clothes that will create the kind of image we wish to project. We believe that appearance is important, and we often go to great lengths to present a favorable appearance. We want to look younger, more beautiful, more virile, more chic, etc. Some people even resort to plastic surgery to achieve these ends. This preoccupation with appearance is so much a part of our way of living that we may regard a person who neglects his or her appearance as being emotionally disturbed.
Are we all narcissistic, then? Does it mean that narcissism is a normal aspect of the human personality? No. In my opinion, narcissism is a pathological condition. I draw a distinction between a healthy concern for one’s appearance, based on a sense of self, and the displacement of identity from the self to the image, which is characteristic of the narcissistic state. This view of narcissism is in line with the Narcissus myth.
According to the Greek myth, Narcissus was a handsome young Thespian with whom the nymph Echo fell in love. Echo had been deprived of speech by Hera, the wife of Zeus, and could only repeat the last syllables of words she heard. Unable to express her love for Narcissus, she was spurned by him and died of a broken heart. The gods then punished Narcissus for his callous treatment of Echo by making him fall in love with his own image. It had been predicted by the seer Tiresias that Narcissus would live until he saw himself. One day while he was leaning over the limpid waters of a fountain, Narcissus caught sight of his own reflection in the water. He became passionately enamored of his image and refused to leave the spot. He died of languor and turned into a flower—the narcissus that grows at the edges of springs.
It is significant that Narcissus fell in love with his image only after he rejected the love of Echo. Falling in love with one’s image—that is, becoming narcissistic—is seen in the myth as a form of punishment for being incapable of loving. But let’s take the legend one step further. Who is Echo? She could be our own voice coming back to ourselves. Thus, if Narcissus could say “I love you,” Echo would repeat these words and Narcissus would feel loved. The inability to say those words identifies the narcissist. Having withdrawn their libido from people in the world, narcissists are condemned to fall in love with their image—that is, direct their libido to their ego.
Another possible interpretation is interesting. In rejecting Echo, Narcissus also rejected his own voice. Now, the voice is the expression of one’s inner being, one’s bodily self as opposed to one’s surface appearance. The quality of the voice is determined by the resonance of the air in the inner passages and chambers. The word “personality” reflects this idea. Persona means that by his or her sound you can know the person. According to this interpretation, Narcissus denied his inner being in favor of his appearance. And that is a typical maneuver of narcissists.
What is the importance of the prophecy uttered by the seer Tiresias—that Narcissus would die when he saw himself? What grounds could there be for such a prediction? I believe it had to be the exceptional beauty of Narcissus. Such beauty in either a man or woman often proves to be more of a curse than a blessing. One danger is that the awareness of such beauty will go to the person’s head, making him or her an egotist. Another possibility is that this beauty will arouse violent passions of desire and envy in others, leading to tragedy. History and fiction contain many tales of the unhappy endings to the lives of beautiful people. The story of Cleopatra is one of the best known. A seer, being a wise person, understands these dangers.
Let us now look again at the psychiatric history of the term “narcissism.” It was originally introduced to explain the behavior of people who derived an erotic excitation from looking at, caressing, and fondling their own bodies. Such behavior was considered a perversion. As we saw in Chapter 1, however, Freud recognized that some aspects of this attitude could be found in other disorders and perhaps even in normal people. In developing his thinking on narcissism, Freud characterized schizophrenia as entailing an equal loss of libidinal interest in people and things in the external world. He, then, distinguished schizophrenia from obsessional neuroses and hysteria, in which there is also a disturbed relationship to sexual objects. The difference, according to Freud, is that in the neuroses, sexual interest (or libido) is still attached to the object in the form of fantasy, although the motor activities needed to establish a real relationship are blocked. In schizophrenia, on the other hand, the libido is withdrawn from the object or its image and focused on the self-image, producing megalomania. In Freud’s words: “The libido withdrawn from the outer world has been diverted onto the ego, giving rise to a state we may call narcissism.”1
A question arose in Freud’s mind, as it must in ours: What is the difference between the narcissistic perversion and autoerotic activities such as masturbation? No one would characterize masturbation as narcissistic, although sexual satisfaction is derived from fondling one’s own body. The difference is that in masturbation the body is recognized as the self. In a perversion, however, one sees one’s body as a sexual object—that is, as another person. One is not identified with one’s body, but rather dissociated from it. Narcissus, for instance, was not in love with himself but with his image, which took on an independent reality. Simply put, autoerotic activities are a manifestation of self-love, whereas narcissism is a form of image or ego love.
But what exactly do I mean by self-love in contrast to a narcissistic preoccupation? To understand this, we need to clarify the concept of self. I believe that an infant is born with a self, which is a biological, not a psychological, phenomenon. The ego, in contrast, is a mental organization that develops as the child grows. The sense of self or the consciousness of self comes into being as the ego (the mental “I”) becomes defined through self-awareness, self-expression, and self-possession. But these terms refer to feeling—to the awareness of, the expression of, and the containment of feeling. The self, then, may be defined as the feeling aspect of the body. It can be experienced only as a feeling. One might say: “I feel myself as angry, as sad, as hungry, as sleepy,” etc. More simply, of course, one says: “I am angry, sad, hungry, sleepy,” etc. Indeed, emphasizing the feeling in this way makes the statement an expression of the self. If the emphasis is placed upon the “I,” it becomes an ego statement.
We must avoid confusing or identifying the ego with the self. The ego is not the self, though it is that part of the personality that perceives the self. Actually, the ego represents self-consciousness, or consciousness of self: I (ego) feel (perceive) myself to be angry. Descartes was right when he said: “I think, therefore I am” (with the emphasis on the I). He would be wrong if he believed that thinking determined the self. Computers may be said to think; what they cannot do is feel.
By dissociating the ego from the body or self, narcissists sever consciousness from its living foundation. Instead of functioning as an integrated whole, the personality is split into two parts: an active, observing “I” (the ego), with which the individual identifies, and a passive, observed object (the body). It is true that the ego is concerned with perception of the inner state of the organism and the other state of the world, and helps to adapt one to the other to promote the welfare of the self. One function of the ego, for instance, is to control the action of the voluntary musculature through the will, thus regulating the person’s conscious response to the world. But, again, the ego is not the self—only the conscious aspect of the self. Nor is it separate from the self. The accuracy of its perception depends on its connection, as part of the self.
The greater part of the self consists of the body and its functions, most of which operate below the level of consciousness. The unconscious is like the submerged part of an iceberg. Involuntary functions like circulation, digestion, and respiration have a profound effect on consciousness, for they determine the organism’s state of being. Depending on the body’s functioning, one may feel well or sick, in good spirits or downhearted, vital and alive or depressed, sexually excited or impotent. What we feel depends on what happens in the body. The will or ego is incapable of creating a feeling, although it may try to control the feeling. One can’t truly will a sexual response, an appetite, a feeling of love, or even anger—however much one may “think” one can. Images may focus these feelings in consciousness, provided they are already present in the body as potential events. For body happenings to lead to the perception of feeling, the events must reach the surface of the body and the surface of the mind, where consciousness is located. Only that part of the iceberg that lies at or above the surface of the water is visible.
We have a dual relationship to our bodies. We can experience the body directly through feeling or we can have an image of it. In the first case, we are immediately connected to the self, whereas in the second case, the connection is indirect. A healthy person has this dual consciousness, but it does not pose a problem because the self-image and the direct self-experience through the body coincide. What such a state presupposes is self-acceptance—an acceptance of and identification with the body and its feelings. It is self-acceptance that is lacking in narcissistic individuals, who have dissociated their bodies, so that libido is invested in the ego and not in the body or the self. Without self-acceptance, there is no self-love.
I have long maintained that if one does not love oneself, one cannot love others. Love may be viewed as a sharing of the self with another person. Sexual intercourse is a true expression of love when there is such a sharing but a narcissistic act when it is lacking. Intimacy describes the sharing of the self. But one has to have a sense of self in order to share it. Although we are born with a self, we can lose a sense of self if we turn against the self, if we invest our energies (Freud’s libido) in the ego or self-image. All of us need others. If we have a sense of self, we need another person to share it. But even if we lack a sense of self, like the narcissist, we still need others—to support and applaud our self-image. Without the approval and admiration of others, the narcissistic ego becomes deflated, for it is not connected to and nourished by self-love. On the other hand, the admiration the narcissist receives only inflates his or her ego; it does nothing for the self. In the end, then, the narcissist will reject admirers, just as he or she has rejected the true self.
The relation between the ego and the self is complex. Without an ego, there can be no sense of self. But without a felt self, the sense of identity becomes attached to the “I.” Actually, the human being has a dual identity—one part deriving from identification with the ego, the other from identification with the body and its feelings. From the ego’s point of view, the body is an object to be observed, studied, and controlled in the interest of a performance that measures up to one’s image. On this level, identity is represented by the “I” in its functions of conscious perception, thinking, and action. Again, it is from this perspective that we can correctly say: “I think, therefore I am.” And we might add: “I will, therefore I am”—for will is an important aspect of the ego.
But what about the other view? We are moved by our feelings as well as by our will—at least, if we haven’t denied our feelings. We are moved to tears or anger or any other emotion, and our sense of being is identified with the feeling. Again, saying “I am sad” or “I am angry” expresses the idea that we are what we feel. In this case, it is the body that plays the active role, informing the mind of its needs and desires and determining the direction and aim of the person’s actions.
Of course, both positions are valid: We both think and feel. Our dual identity rests on our ability to form a self-image and on our awareness of the bodily self. In a healthy person, the two identities are congruent. The image fits the body reality as a glove fits its owner’s hand. A personality disturbance occurs when there is a lack of congruence between the self-image and the self. The severity of this disturbance is in direct proportion to the degree of incongruence. The discrepancy is most marked in schizophrenia, where the image bears almost no relationship to reality. Mental institutions contain many people who see themselves as Jesus Christ, Napoleon, or some other renowned figure. Since this image conflicts sharply with the bodily reality, the result is confusion. The schizophrenic attempts to undo this confusion by dissociating the reality of his or her body, which leads to a withdrawal from reality in general. In narcissistic disorders, the incongruence is less than in schizophrenia, but it is sufficient to produce a split in identity, with resulting confusion. Narcissists avoid the confusion by denying the identity based on their bodies without, however, dissociating their bodies. By focusing their attention and interest solely on the image, they can ignore the bodily self. By not allowing any strong feelings to reach consciousness, they can treat the body as an object subject to the control of their will. Yet by remaining conscious of the body, they remain oriented in time and space.
Recall Freud’s statement that in narcissism libido is withdrawn from objects in the world and directed onto the ego. We might add that libido is withdrawn from the body and invested in the ego. In effect, the two statements are identical, for we experience the external world only through the body. If we deny feeling to the body, we cut off our feeling relationship to the world.
The investment of libido or energy in the ego or the image is often a deliberate undertaking. People engage in many activities designed primarily to enhance their image. Gaining power and making money, for instance, often have little to do with feelings on the body level. The ego satisfaction they provide stems from their support of one’s image. Having a book published, for example, can do great things for one’s ego. One can base one’s identity on being an author. But it does nothing for one’s body and little for one’s sense of self based on the body. If one’s ego becomes inflated by success or achievement, congruence with the reality of one’s body is lost. Confusion can be avoided, then, only by denying one’s body and its feelings. It makes little difference if the achievement is in the public interest if its effect is to produce an overinflation of the ego. People may have a public image based on their social position and power, but this does not make them narcissists. They do become narcissistic, however, if they base their personal identity on this public image rather than on their body feelings.
It is a sign of the narcissistic tendency of our culture that people have become overinvolved with their images. The current preoccupation with the body partly reflects this narcissistic attitude, as Christopher Lasch has pointed out.2 Yet, in part, it also reflects a concern for health. I strongly believe we need to be aware of our bodies and to engage in physical activities that will increase our vitality and aliveness. For too many people, however, the goal of exercise programs is to look (not feel) good, in accord with the current fashion ideal. They want a lean, tight, hard body, capable of performing with machinelike efficiency at the command of the will. Or they may aim for a statuesque quality, for the body of a young Adonis or Venus. An extreme example is body building through the use of weights, which produces massive, overdeveloped muscles. In my opinion, it is a narcissistic enterprise that is harmful to mental and physical health. The heavy musculature may make one look strong, but it reduces the body’s spontaneity and aliveness and seriously restricts breathing.
Some indication of the current narcissistic devotion to fashion comes out in the title of a recent book on exercise and physical fitness: Don’t Be Fat—Be Flat. The flatness refers to a flat abdomen—that is, no belly. But to really achieve this, one would have to tense the abdominal muscles to the point where abdominal respiration (a normal and healthy phenomenon) was almost impossible. And quite aside from its adverse effect on health, flatness is a negative quality from the point of view of looks and taste. Describing something as “flat” denotes that it is without taste or appeal. To “flatten” someone is to demolish him or her. And in psychological terms, “flatness” of affect describes a lack of feeling. But, of course, in those terms we can appreciate why flatness may be viewed as a virtue by narcissists.
None of this denies the value of looking good when it is an expression of a good feeling in one’s body. In that case, looking good is manifested in bright eyes, glowing skin, a soft and pleasant facial expression, and a body that is vibrantly alive and graceful in its movements. Without a good body feeling, a person can only project an image of what he or she thinks a good-looking body should be. The more one focuses on this image, the more one is deprived of good feelings in one’s body. In the end, the image proves a poor mask; it no longer hides the tragedy of the empty life within.
Recently, I worked with a young woman named Ann who had a constant smile on her face to show the world how happy and content she was. Yet this expression was belied by a tight, square jaw and a flat forehead, which gave her face a grim look. Ann was unaware of this contradiction. She was identified with the smiling, happy image, and she saw herself as a person who was responsible, considerate, and helpful.
When I inquired into Ann’s background, she said that she was the oldest of three children. She had always been a “good” girl, doing what was expected of her and taking care of her younger siblings. After she grew up, she continued this pattern of behavior—it had become second nature to her. Yet on some deep level, it left her dissatisfied and unfulfilled. Ann was thus not entirely surprised when I pointed out the grimness of her set jaw and forehead. She agreed when I suggested that while she did a lot for others, she asked very little for herself.
Ann’s smile was a façade erected to hide her unhappiness from the world and from herself. The image of the happy young woman bore little relationship to the reality of her being or her feelings. How did that image arise? Ann mentioned that her father used to tell her to put on a happy face regardless of how she felt. No one would love a sad-looking person. So Ann denied her feelings and adopted an image that would be acceptable to her father. In the process, she had to sacrifice her true self.
Ann’s case shows how an image can be misused, how it can serve to replace an unacceptable self with an acceptable, even admired, façade. This substitution occurs in childhood, under pressure from the parents that leaves the child no choice. But once the substitution is made, the image becomes all-important. The person now admires the image he or she projects and, like Narcissus, falls in love with it. This love is not self-love, for with the façade the person has rejected the true self as unacceptable.
Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray is a classic study of the narcissistic personality, even if it is a fictional account. Like Narcissus, Dorian Gray was an exceedingly beautiful young man. Moreover, the beauty of his appearance coincided with an equal beauty of temperament. He was kind, considerate, and concerned. Inevitably, Dorian’s good looks attracted the interest of a well-known artist, who undertook to paint his portrait. They also excited the interest of a dilettante, Lord Henry, who undertook to teach him the ways of the sophisticated world.
With appropriate flattery, Lord Henry seduced Dorian Gray into thinking he was special because of his exceptional physical beauty. Lord Henry convinced the young man that it was his duty to preserve his good looks. One way to do that was not to allow any strong feeling to disturb the placidity of his mind or mark the surface of his body. But how can one prevent the ravages of time? Dorian became preoccupied with and worried about his appearance. What a shame, he thought, that the picture should always show him as a happy, radiant, and beautiful young man, while he himself aged and deteriorated. Would that it were the reverse, he prayed, and so it came to be.
Dorian Gray passed the years without showing any sign of age or trouble in his face and body. At fifty he looked as he had at twenty. No line or wrinkle reflecting the cares and concerns of living marred his visage. His secret was the picture, which aged and showed the ugliness of a life lived without feeling. But Dorian hid the picture and never looked at it.
In the absence of feeling, Dorian Gray spent his life seeking sensation. He seduced women (which was very easy to do with his charm and good looks), then abandoned them. He introduced the young men who admired him to vices and drugs, which ruined their lives. Very early in his career, he brought about the suicide of a lovely young actress, who fell in love with him but whom he rejected when her acting failed to measure up to the star performances that had initially attracted him to her. Throughout all this, Dorian felt no remorse. He never looked at the picture; he never confronted the reality of his life.
Besides Dorian Gray, no one knew of the picture except the painter and Lord Henry. When the painter demanded to see the picture, Dorian killed him. To hide his crime, he blackmailed a former admirer into disposing of the body. This person then committed suicide. Finally, however, Dorian could no longer restrain his curiosity about the picture, nor still the growing inner torment. Venturing into the hiding place, he removed the covering from the picture. The twisted, tortured look on the aged face struck him with such horror that he took a knife and slashed the picture. The next morning, a servant discovered him lying in front of the picture, with a knife in his heart—an old man with a twisted, tortured face.
How could such a beautiful young man become such an ugly character? Initially, Dorian Gray’s beauty was not skin-deep; it was not a façade. At first he was as good inwardly as he was good-looking outwardly. But Oscar Wilde believed that human nature is corruptible, and I would agree with him. The innocent can be seduced by the promise of power or love or wealth or position. This seduction goes on all the time in our culture, fostering the development of narcissistic personalities.
Though the story of Dorian Gray is fiction, the idea that a person can present a physical appearance that belies the inner state of his being is valid. I have been struck by how many narcissistic individuals look much younger than they are. They have even features and smooth complexions, which do not show any lines of worry or trouble. These people do not allow life to touch them—specifically, they don’t allow the inner events of living to reach the surface of their minds or the surface of their bodies. This constitutes a denial of feeling. But human beings are not immune to life, and in these cases, the aging occurs internally. Finally, as in Dorian Gray’s case, the pain and ugliness break through the denial, and the person seems to age overnight.
To some degree, however, we are all like Dorian Gray. Often we are surprised, even shocked, when we examine our faces in a mirror. We are stunned by the lines of age we see, by the sadness in our eyes, by the pain in our expression. We did not expect to see ourselves like that. In the mind’s eye, we saw ourselves as young, with smooth skin and a carefree expression. Like Dorian Gray, we don’t want to face the reality of our lives. This discrepancy between the way we look and the way we see ourselves also extends to the body, which should be more visible to us than the face. We close our eyes to the lack of harmony in our body parts and the lack of grace in our movements. Clothes help us hide this reality from ourselves and others and allow us to form a picture of our bodies that is far removed from reality.
Very early we are taught to cover up our feelings and put on a face for the world. The lesson I was given as a child was: “Smile and the world smiles with you, cry and you cry alone.” We saw how Ann was made to put on a “happy” face. Ellen told me a similar story: “I have a memory of sitting coyly while my picture was being taken. I still have the photo. The image is: ‘See what a lovely little girl I am.’ My father used to say: ‘All a girl has to do is smile and she can have anything she wants.’ So I went through life smiling while my heart was breaking inside.”
In many cases, the body as well as the face is mobilized to project an image. The wish to appear youthful often requires that the body be rigorously disciplined through exercise and diet to retain a lean, thin look. Or if the image is one of strength and virility, a man may seek to expand his chest and build his muscles to achieve the appropriate look.
I was consulted by a woman, Mary, who had had a breakdown after a threatened breakup with her lover. She was very attractive looking—her face was well formed, with a strong jaw, a full mouth, and widely spaced eyes; her body was rather petite, very trim, with shapely legs. Her smile was warm and inviting. At least this was my impression when she directed her attention to me. When she looked away and was quiet, however, a pathetic look crept onto her face. The same pathetic quality was apparent in her body. Her chest seemed narrow and tight, her waist so constricted that it almost divided her in half. Somehow, she had no belly and her pelvis was surprisingly small, given that she had had two children (in an earlier marriage). Her body looked so tiny and undercharged that I thought, “No body. She is a nobody.”
The idea that Mary could be considered a nobody was contradicted by her seeming command of her movements, her ideas, and her words. Her will was strong, and she knew how to use herself. From the age of five, she had trained to be a ballet dancer, and although she had never danced professionally, she considered herself a dancer. Knowing this, I realized that when she turned on her charm as she looked at me, it was a performance. She became a vivacious, dancing doll; indeed, her body and her face had a doll-like quality. This was the image with which she was identified and which she tried to project. When she dropped her act and looked away, she became a pathetic, lost creature, a nobody. The role of the image was to compensate for a diminished sense of self, but its effect was the reverse. By directing all her energies to maintain an image, Mary impoverished and diminished her real self.
Even though Mary recognized the weakness in her sense of self (she got depressed easily, she was overwhelmed by any strong feeling), she was not prepared to give up her image. She sensed the power in it—a power over men. Though she was past thirty-five, Mary portrayed herself as more a girl than a woman. What men were attracted to, and even fell deeply in love with, was a cute, dancing doll-girl who was openly seductive. After a relationship developed, Mary became completely dependent on the man. She oscillated between the pathetic little girl, who needed to be cared for and protected, and the seductive, dancing doll, whom men wanted to possess.
If we ask what is the reality of Mary’s personality, we must answer that the image of the dancing doll is as real as the image of the pathetic little girl. In effect, Mary has a double personality in the sense that she presents two different faces to the world. One face is a mask like a doll’s face that is devoid of feeling. The other face expresses her true feelings and is therefore a true representation of the self. The doll’s face reflects an ego image and the pathetic little girl’s face reflects the self-image. One face is put on by an effort of the will, while the other is a spontaneous manifestation of the inner being. This splitting of Mary’s personality would justify the diagnosis of borderline condition.
Although diagnostically Mary would be seen as a borderline personality, in my opinion, the diagnosis is less important than understanding Mary—who she is, who she pretends to be, and why she developed a split in her personality. The image is really a part of the self. It is the part of the self that faces the world, and it takes its shape through the surface aspects of the body (posture, movement, facial expression, etc.). Because this part of the body is subject to conscious control by the will or ego, it can be modified to conform to a particular image. We can speak of a false self set up against the true self, but I prefer to describe the split in terms of an image that contradicts the self, and to see the basic disturbance as a conflict between the image and the bodily self.
Why did Mary give up her bodily self in favor of an image? Although the sacrifice was not conscious, she had decided her feeling self was not acceptable. I found that she couldn’t cry and couldn’t scream. She had no voice to express feelings. Her speaking voice sounded flat, unemotional, and mechanical. It was clear why Mary became a dancer. Unable to use her voice to express herself, she turned to movement. But that avenue, too, was circumscribed. She began to study ballet at five years of age with the support and encouragement of her mother, who wanted Mary to be outstanding and bring some credit to her. Mary was completely dominated by her mother and terrified of her. Yet she insisted to me that she had no angry feelings toward her mother, who had done so much for her. The degree of denial in this statement is typical of narcissists. Having accepted and identified with the image of the dancing doll which she saw as being special and superior, she couldn’t admit to “bad” or angry feelings which would contradict this image.
Her father adored his little dancing doll, but his adoration was coupled with a sexual interest in her. At an early age, Mary was aware of her ability to excite her father, but any sexual feeling on her part had to be denied to avoid her mother’s jealousy and her father’s negative reaction (from guilt). She mentioned that when she was a teenager, her father would become very upset if he saw her kissing a boy. Without any support from her father for her feelings, Mary surrendered herself to her mother and identified with her in contempt for her weak father. Having made the surrender, she could compensate for the loss by creating an image that gave her sexual power over men without the vulnerability engendered by sexual feelings. Images can only be deflated, not hurt.
In a borderline personality, such as Mary, the discrepancy between the image and the bodily or feeling self is wide enough to pose a danger of emotional breakdown. Mary had been hospitalized before consulting me. Fortunately, I was able to help Mary get in touch with and release some of her sadness by crying. This enabled her to break through the denial, see the reality of her being, and make a connection to her bodily self which gave her a strength she had not previously possessed.
In my therapeutic approach called bioenergetic analysis, the individual’s connection to his or her bodily self is achieved through direct work with the body. Special exercises are used to help a person feel those areas of the body in which chronic muscular tensions block the awareness and expression of feeling. Thus, in Mary’s case, one of the exercises used was to have her lie on a bed and kick with her legs while loudly yelling “no.” She had never been able to protest the surrender of her bodily self, and she could not reclaim that self until she had voiced that protest. Despite the fact that she was a dancer, her kicking movements were uncoordinated and without force while her voice was small and weak. She felt the constriction in her throat which prevented her from making a loud, full sound. It also restricted her breathing, which decreased her metabolism and lowered her energy. I could palpate the constriction as a spasticity of the scalene muscles on the sides of her neck. The technique I use to reduce this spasticity is to apply a light pressure with the tips of my fingers to these muscles while the person is making as high-pitched a sound as possible. When I did this with Mary, she broke into a loud scream which continued for some time. After several screams, she broke into a deep sobbing as the tension in the muscles of her neck relaxed and the feeling of sadness broke through. Following this release, her protests by kicking and yelling were stronger and more forceful.
People in trouble need to cry. While it was relatively easy to get Mary to cry because her body was not heavily armored, one faces considerable difficulty with narcissistic men who pride themselves on being able to take it without breaking down. The muscular overdevelopment results in a tight, hard body which effectively inhibits the awareness and expression of soft or tender feelings. In such cases, it often takes considerable work with breathing to soften the body to the point where crying can occur. Once the person lets himself cry, it is not too difficult to evoke the anger which has been suppressed. Sometimes, releasing the anger by having a person hit the bed with a tennis racket or the fists may open the sadness and produce the crying. I have described some of the exercises and body techniques in my previous books. I must emphasize that these exercises are not mechanical. They are effective in changing personality only when they are coupled with a thorough analysis, including the interpretation of dreams, and when they follow from an understanding of the personality as it is expressed by the body.
In other patients, such as narcissistic characters, the ego is able to maintain control and avoid a breakdown because it is less completely split off from the self. Yet props, like alcohol, may be used to maintain a certain denial of reality, as can be seen in Arthur’s case.
Arthur had been a well-known and successful actor. In the past two years, however, he had become subject to increasing fits of despair, which prevented him from working.
He admitted that he had begun to drink heavily. As a result, his professional standing had slipped, and he was finding it difficult to obtain parts. He also complained about his inability to establish a satisfactory relationship with a woman. He mentioned that he had once had a short-lived experience of deep love, and it had made him feel good and fulfilled. He desperately wanted to feel that way again.
It should not come as a surprise to find a narcissist engaged in acting as a profession. Acting depends on an ability to project an image. This comes easily to the narcissistic individual, who is acting all the time—although, of course, not all actors are narcissists.
As Arthur stood before me, his bodily attitude was one of hauteur and superiority. He was well built, with a rather handsome, dramatic face. When he drew himself up and turned his charm on, he appeared imposing. His eyes, as they regarded me, had an intense expression—as if he were trying to magnetize me. I could feel the power of his look. Yet because this look required an effort, sapping all his energy, he could not maintain it. When the effort collapsed, his face looked tense and tired. Part of Arthur’s charm was a seemingly innocent smile, which he gave me from time to time. But I could see that it covered an intense fear. Most striking, however, were the different expressions on the two halves of his face. His right eyebrow was strongly arched upward in a supercilious expression; the left eyebrow was flattened and pulled downward. As a result, his face had a twisted look. When I mentioned this observation to him, he said that he was aware of it. He was also aware that his face had a very pained expression. He had studied his face in a mirror, but in typical narcissistic fashion, he did not allow himself to feel any pain or fear.
The split in Arthur’s personality was quite evident. From his face I had the impression that his right side was struggling desperately to rise above and deny the despair evident on the left side. One part of him was identified with an image of superiority, which he tried to project to cover over and compensate for an inner feeling of inferiority. He needed an image of power to overcome an inner sense of helplessness and powerlessness.
Like Dorian Gray, Arthur had had his days of power and glory. When he was younger and a matinee idol, many women were attracted to him. He had the energy then to sustain the image against any inner doubts. But the rewards success provides do not nourish the self. The admiration and acclaim of the crowd only feed the ego. Investing one’s libido or energy in the ego can only lead to bankruptcy of the self. When Arthur ran out of energy to support his image, it began to crack. Yet he could not give it up. He was in serious trouble.
In our consultation, I described the nature of the problem to Arthur and stressed the need for ongoing therapy. Without treatment, his condition could only deteriorate. Unfortunately, I never saw him again, and he never paid me for the consultation. “I left my checkbook at the hotel,” he said, promising to send me a check. Arthur, then, clung to his denial. He had consulted me in the hope that somehow I could help him regain the energy to refurbish his image. He was looking for magic, which he thought I might have as he believed he once did. Reality was too painful for him to accept. In the world of make-believe in which he lived, there was no moral obligation to pay a doctor for his time. Life is a stage, and when the curtain falls upon an act, it is finished and forgotten. The emptiness of such a life is beyond imagination.
• • •
I have emphasized the incongruence or opposition of self and image in the narcissist. Although I prefer this way of describing the split, it may be helpful now to add the notion of a true and a false, or superficial, self. The false self rests on the surface, as the self presented to the world. It stands in contrast to the true self, which resides behind the façade or image. This true self is the feeling self, but it is a self that must be hidden and denied. Since the superficial self represents submission and conformity, the inner or true self is rebellious and angry. This underlying rebellion and anger can never be fully suppressed since it is an expression of the life force in the person. But because of the denial, it cannot be expressed directly. Instead, it shows up in the narcissist’s acting out. And it can become a perverse force.
The important distinction, then, is between the person who operates in terms of an image and the person who functions in terms of his or her feelings. But since feelings are a natural attribute of being human, how can one not feel? If the image is established as the dominant force in the personality, the person will suppress any feeling that contradicts it. But an image can only gain this dominant position in the absence of strong feelings. I strongly believe that the absence of feeling is the basic disturbance in the narcissistic personality, and the one that allows the image to gain ascendancy. In narcissism, as opposed to the typical neuroses of earlier times, the loss of feeling is due to a special mechanism, which I call the denial of feeling.