The word narcissist has become a weapon flung at ex-partners, nasty bosses, politicians, influencers, and strangers online. It’s a word we use to explain betrayal, arrogance, cruelty, and indifference.
But what if the more important question isn’t who they are, but who we are becoming?
For many years, when a client contacted me for therapy and asked whether I could help them because they thought they might be a narcissist, I would smile and say, “If you think you are, then you probably aren’t.”
I wasn’t wrong.
For someone to meet full diagnostic criteria for narcissistic personality disorder (NPD), it is unlikely that they believe there is anything wrong with them. Individuals with NPD typically experience themselves as clever, beautiful, exceptional, and deserving of admiration. They need to be praised for their intelligence, beauty, brilliance, and absolute righteousness in all matters. Furthermore, these attitudes and behaviors must be persistent over time and consistently executed. Self-reflection, when it threatens their ego, is not their strong suit.
Clinical research supports this. Large population studies suggest that full-blown NPD exists in a relatively small percentage of people—roughly 6.2% of men and 4.8% of women. But here is where my thinking has changed.
There is a vast difference between a diagnosable personality disorder and narcissistic personality traits. It’s the traits that concern me now. We all have them.
Traits such as entitlement, limited empathy, excessive self-focus, and what we might casually call egotistical behavior don’t require a diagnosis. They are far more common than NPD. And increasingly, they are culturally rewarded.
What happens when self-focus — not self-examination — becomes our social default?
What happens when empathy is only extended if it doesn’t cost us our money, our time, our perceived status, or our political safety?
I believe the result is a profound and growing loneliness; the loneliness of not being truly seen or mirrored by others.
LONELINESS
How often have you had lunch with a colleague, an acquaintance, or even a so-called friend and realized that, by the end of the meal, they never once asked about you?
Moments like these are easy to dismiss. We tell ourselves we’re being too sensitive, too needy, too demanding. Yet something quietly contracts inside us when we are not seen; when our presence is treated as an audience rather than a relationship.
Over time, these moments accumulate. We begin to feel invisible even while surrounded by people. We are talked at rather than spoken with. We become containers for other people’s narratives while our own remains unheard.
This is how loneliness takes root—not always through physical isolation, but through emotional absence.
Loneliness can actually fuel narcissistic traits in our own personalities. When people feel unseen, they often compensate by becoming louder, more performative, and more self-referential. What looks like arrogance is sometimes desperation. What appears as indifference can be armor.
Loneliness, when shared at scale, becomes cultural. It erodes trust. It makes us less curious about others and more interested in ourselves. It teaches us to broadcast rather than to listen; to assert rather than to inquire.
Loneliness leads to alienation.
Alienation leads to indifference.
Indifference, combined with self-promotion and isolation, leads to conflict—within families, between communities, and within nations.
THE MORAL AND SPIRITUAL CONNECTION
The term narcissism may be modern, but the behaviors it describes are ancient. Every major spiritual and moral tradition has warned against excessive self-absorption.
In Christian teaching, Christ said, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” and “Love your neighbor as yourself.” These are not abstract ideals; they are direct challenges to self-centered living.
The Ten Commandments warn against envy, deceit, and coveting—behaviors rooted in comparison and ego.
The Qur’an instructs kindness toward others and reminds us that arrogance and self-exaltation are spiritual obstacles, not virtues.
In yogic philosophy, the Yamas and Niyamas emphasize restraint, truthfulness, and self-study. These teachings ask us not just to act morally, but to examine why we act as we do.
Across traditions, the message is consistent: these teachings are not rules meant to punish, but guidance for living in a way that leads to meaning, connection, and peace.
SOME QUESTIONS
- When I enter a conversation, am I more focused on being understood or on understanding?
- Do I listen to connect, or only to respond?
- When was the last time I truly listened without interrupting?
- Do I offer empathy freely, or only when it feels safe or rewarded?
- How much of what I share is meant to connect versus impress?
- Where do I confuse self-worth with visibility?
- Do my values show up most clearly in private or in public?
- Am I willing to examine my motives when it’s uncomfortable?
- What would change if self-examination became as common as self-promotion?
The work of resisting narcissism does not begin with diagnosing others. It begins with the courage to look inward.
So perhaps the question is not, “Am I a narcissist?”
Perhaps the real question is: Am I willing to look honestly at how I live, how I listen, how I love, and who I am becoming?
