Whenever I express to my therapist that I worry I sound like a narcissist, or that I’m showing toxic traits too much like my mother’s, she reminds me of her straightforward barometer for such things:

If you’re asking the question of whether or not you’re a narcissist – you aren’t one.

Simple enough, right? The logic behind this is that actual narcissists don’t stop to consider whether or not their behavior is harmful. To them, they aren’t the problem; everyone else is. If you’re worrying that you’re making things too much about your needs or wants, or that your ego has become more important than others’ feelings – well, continue with your self-reflection and consider how to improve, but rest assured, you aren’t irredeemable. You’re human, flawed and, if you’re like me, struggling to overcome a lifetime of maladaptive tendencies you’ve needed to lean into in order to survive.

But you’re not a monster.

I had a dreadful fight with someone I love this week. Long story short, I overreacted to something they said which I may have taken a little too personally, while at the same time, the way that they made their comment had felt very invalidating to me in the moment. What’s most challenging for me is that my emotions are often sitting on a hairpin trigger, because my entire life has been lived on the edge of my seat in defense mode. Later on, when talking things out, I was told that it seems I take any form of criticism as invalidating. My only response was that in my experience, it usually is. The only experience I’ve ever had with criticism was destructive, so if it’s not framed constructively and the lead-in comment is sharp and negative, that’s all I’ll hear. It isn’t fair to put someone in a position where they feel they need to keep their feelings to themselves around you. But, fostering a positive and warm environment by giving acknowledgement and validation benefits everyone, promoting a connection where one can offer constructive criticism that would then be better received.

I don’t want to be so oversensitive that my loved ones feel like they can’t talk to me honestly and openly. But at the same time, I need people to be a little more sensitive to me, a little more aware of what I’m coming from. It’s all a work in progress. I grew up surrounded by people drowning each other out, screaming at the top of their lungs to get their needs met. Sometimes I forget that I’m not in that environment anymore, that the decibels of real love are at a much more reasonable level. I may not be a monster, but by no means am I perfect, and I’m constantly working at being better.

Please be patient with me while I adjust the volume of my emotions.