Have you ever asked a question – one that you thought was innocuous, just something you were curious about or didn’t understand – and been completely shut down for it?

Have you ever done something really well or had a successful experience, only to be told you were doing it wrong or poorly?

Have you ever had an interest in something – a hobby, a passion – and been discouraged from pursuing it, redirected to do something else instead?

Congratulations – you’ve threatened a narcissist. Or, put another way, a narcissist has sized you up and determined that you are some sort of threat to them.

For my entire life, I have always been vocal. My childhood nickname, coined by – who else? – my mother, was Miss Mouth. I have always had an answer – and questions – for everything, from an exceptionally young age. I recall more than one occasion where I apparently went too far and got soap in my mouth as a consequence. Yes, that was a real punishment back in the day, and no, it does not taste good; I hope parents don’t do that anymore. I certainly won’t. I’m not saying that children shouldn’t be corrected when they get disrespectful – I’m just saying, soap in the mouth is not the way to go!

Anyway, there’s a difference between too much sass and disrespect that warrants consequences, and having a lot to say and a lot of questions, which I feel warrants patience, guidance, and encouragement. Easier said than done, of course – believe me, I know, I have a three-year-old girl who is a carbon copy of myself. Rather than demand she quiet her voice and mind, I do my best to be intellectually present for her, in a way my mother never was for me. As a teacher, I do the same for my students. I think it’s important to not only answer questions, but to admit when we don’t know the answers and model the behavior of learning new things and figuring things out.

Apparently this is revolutionary. Apparently, my preference to admit when I don’t know something, to encourage questions and learning, rather than to be domineering over young people and put up a facade of omniscience, means I’m secure in who I am.

Apparently, narcissists don’t like that!

Narcissists need to be right. They need to the prevailing narrative to be their own. Their illusions don’t hold up otherwise. Their success comes from making others around them feel smaller than they do. So a question that spears their armor and pierces the core of their insecurity is akin to poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

The threat of authenticity is this – those who behave in the most threatening ways happen to simultaneously be the ones feeling the most threatened. “How dare you be your true authentic self around me, when I can’t do that, because if people know the real me, my whole jig will be up!” It’s the oddest inferiority/superiority complex. They behave like fire-breathing dragons when in reality they’re rabid rabbits. Make no mistake, though; both manifestations are harmful. You’re left with a very difficult choice. Either be true to yourself, be who you are, knowing that doing so will incur wrath and risk ruin; or, shrink to fit the false reality the narcissist has designed, in order to survive.

I have spent my entire life shrinking to fit in order to survive. First and quite foremost, this was the case with my mother, but I’ve had similar conflicts with a few other adults over the years, as a child and as an adult – teachers, college professors, the occasional supervisor. After finally freeing myself from the shackles of my mother’s narcissistic delusions, I’m coming to terms with both who I am, and how to be who I am. I want to be my most authentic self, finally. As such, encountering other situations where a narcissist apparently finds me threatening (which is such a weird idea to me!), is very triggering for me. I’ve always fit exceptionally poorly inside other people’s boxes, and now that I’ve come to know myself so well and found a place where I can bloom, I don’t react well when someone tries to shove me inside another ill-fitting box.

I cannot, and will not, shrink to fit anymore. The threat of authenticity is a them problem – not a me problem.

Almost as a post-script to my previous post about the plastic wrap, it’s amusing to find metaphorical significance now in losing my fight with the stuff. I guess I really am much more of a tin foil kind of person. Tin foil is stronger, holds its shape better, and readily shows the impacts it endures when it gets folded or crinkled or punctured. Tin foil doesn’t shy away from who it is, and makes no apologies for itself. Tin foil endures high heat, but if you force it into a microwave box and push some buttons, it sparks right back at you.

Plastic wrap would shrink and melt under a dragon’s fire. Tin foil can take it, and even dish it back.

Don’t shrink to fit. Be as authentic as you can be. If somebody comes along who takes issue with that, it says far more about them than it does about you. To quote Shakespeare’s Hamlet, “This above all – to thine own self be true.”