When I was a toddler, it was all about me. Infants as a rule act out the theatrics known as the terrible twos. I, like most others in this age group, was only capable of communicating my most immediate needs. During childhood, hopefully we emerge from this narcissistic state through efforts of our parents and role models who teach us to be aware of others and to share the spotlight with them. Many parents, including mine, were not particularly good examples of this. They can be so obsessed with their own problems and repressed feelings that they often talk at us, not with us. My sisters and I were seldom listened to and as we grew up, we manifested this all talk, no listen behavior with each other. This continued long after we left home.
Out in the world, even though we may successfully complete our education and find worthwhile professional employment, our emotional and personal life can remain stunted. We can live with missing pieces in our psychological makeup. Even if we are extroverted and friendly by nature, we may have difficulty in finding and maintaining relationships, our life dominated by monologues, either our own or being forced to endure those of others. Dialogue can become a concept neither understood nor practiced. When communicating with others, we may act no better than we did as a child.
Whenever we hit any bumps in the road, not expecting to be listened to and understood, the path of least resistance is to refrain from seeking help and advice. After any challenges with people, work, finances, social disapproval, romantic relationships, or friends, we can retreat into our shells to weave a web of camouflage around these frustrations. When we have poor people skills, our feelings of worthlessness and arrogant efforts to cover this up may lead us to get stuck in an isolated world where we fall prey to bad habits. This can include using substances and self-destructive behaviors to block our pain and loneliness. These attempts to numb out only feed our self-preoccupation. We get stuck in an “It’s all about me” zone, the self-pity pit of addiction.
Years ago, I was so desperate to get out of my morass that I sought self-help books and therapists, and began attending recovery groups. I’ll never forget my first 12-step meeting where I kept comparing myself to everyone else there, alternating between thinking that I was the best person and the worst person in the room. The truth was that I was neither, just one of many addicts who were admitting that they had similar problems with self-control and self-esteem. When I began to listen to everyone’s shares and heard my experiences reflected in their stories, this was the beginning of emerging from a life-long pattern of isolation and narcissism. By relinquishing my power to the group, I discovered my own power. By paying attention to others I learned how to pay attention to myself. By accepting divine guidance as I defined it, I was no longer alone. I was comfortable in the company of others for the first time.
Today, It’s no longer all about me, it’s about we. I’ve seen the same change in so many of my 12-step fellows. It’s not all about them, it’s about us. Outgrowing our narcissistic patterns is something we can do when we are willing to seek a group and learn to be part of it. There is no need to remain a loner stuck in the prison of our own selfish creation when there is a whole world of people to relate to.
DAVID CAT COHEN In Recovery blogs 