nar·​cis·​sist

Am I a narcissist?

1. that's a question I ask myself all the time.

2. i love that this doesn't forcibly autocorrect capitalization.

3. i'm a bit high right now, so this post may come across a bit loopier than my usual academic prose.

Honestly, I do ask myself this question frequently--this writing high business is wicked fun, no wonder Alice in Wonderland was a smash. a sour patch smash.

So honestly, I do ask myself this question frequently, and I'm a bit concerned that it continues to resurface, like a water basketball being forced under the surface by a bored poolside guest. I know that emotions will come and go on their own terms, and our quickest way of addressing and dismissing the unwanted ones is the tried-and-true "acknowledge and release" method, likely coined by the late Bill Clinton (presidential pardon joke, it's above all our heads).

Ok, back on track we go: I wonder if the amount of thought and concern I've given to the fear of being a narcissist in and of itself relinquishes me of my burden of guilt for hearing its siren song so frequently. In that I mean, "would a narcissist truly seek to avoid their own narcissism like the black plague, or is that an indicator that, yes, you may be a bit self-adoring, image-conscious, and outspoken, but you're no Ted Bundy, no Jamie Tart, and certainly no Narcissus." I was going to say "in short, I mean" -- but turns out that second definition was a bit longer, I'm afraid. My apologies.

I find that my internal motivations do orbit around myself and how I behave in a space. But I'm thinking thoughts like "how do I play my part to keep the energy up in here?" or "what am I doing with my body as I move through this space? should I take up the space? dance a bit?" or more frequently "what could I do wrong here, and how do I avoid it?"

As for the latter: With friends I ask, "what if I'm overbearing or turn into that toxic friend who just gossips about people? but I can't just talk about what I'm thankful for or abstract theories, because then I'll be that friend who can't hang & takes everything too seriously". Or on dates, "what if I'm not exciting or charming enough & can't keep up with their pop queen icon lingo? but I don't want to be someone I'm not, so what if I'm coming off as fake? what if I'm actually being untrue to myself?" The thoughts I have are about me, but they're so very much about others too, and how I show up in their lives.

I think the characteristic of mine that precludes me from jabbing my denim jacket in the lapel with a Garamond "narcissist" pin is that attribute of mine which I most vividly remember being commended for as a kid: my empathy. I remember my dad saying to me when I was little something along the lines of "Ryan, I think your greatest gift is compassion. Don't ever lose that,"

This is not a moment to gas myself up, but rather to defuse the ticking bomb of "what if I'm a narcissist, and anyone who partners with me is signing themselves up for eternal nausea?" I think about myself, and yes, I care a lot when I'm having a good hair day (and a whole lot when I'm not), but I can read a room. And when a friend is uneasy, so am I - when they're calling out in pain, my heart is already twisting as I run in their direction. When I love someone, I love them all through the day; their eyes don't slip from my daydreams. Their fear is my Jabberwocky, and their joy is my hot air balloon, bringing me to Kansas. I heard a podcast today that talked about finding the bright side of being highly sensitive, and I think I've found it.

Enough, I ramble.

won·​der

Accelerating through a curve in the road. Vacuum marks and wiped countertops. A thick coat of paint. Blooming coffee grounds and propagating houseplants. Peeling rainbow carrots to reveal their vibrant jewel tones. A new album that you love on the first listen, that makes your chest sway and your eyes close and your head bounce.

To me, the pursuit of happiness feels more like covering the breaks than stepping on the gas.

It's laughing at yourself as soon as you spill your coffee or mistype your email address three times in a row. I acknowledge that my myriad privileges and my mental health enable me to take advantage of simple practices like Zooming Out and Laughing at Yourself and Giving Thanks and Slowing Down, etc. But maybe exercising the simplicity of these solutions, these catalysts for contentment, and preaching their gospel are the next right things, to borrow Glennon Doyle's sentiment. Maybe by assuming a posture of gratitude and wonder each day, I'm putting myself in the "ready position" (yea, I played baseball for a few years, baby) to lift others up from a place of greater ease and groundedness. Maybe, even if these practices aren't a recipe for a more joyful life, they can at least be ingredients.

"The secret of happiness is not to run too fast. You can still beat them by coming in last." -Jerusha Abbott

base·​line

There's a big piece of me that wants to wait until the first of the month to start this. If it's going to be a serious undertaking, doesn't it deserve a more momentous and aesthetic start date than 9/28? September 28th. I guess that's kind of pretty. Plus, we all know the old adage, "Why put off 'til October 1st what you can do on September 28?" So that's what really settled that for me. This may be sloppy, but "it's a regimen, Mom. Like doing sit-ups."

---

I just read a post in my sister Lauren's blog, in which she posed the question, "What's your emotional baseline state?" It made me think, as does most of what she says, even when I wish we could just let my confessions like "yea, I'm honestly cranky most days, but no problem" sit in their dark, casual ambiguity. I think emotional baselines must stem at least partially from personality, which makes my enneagram 4 wing spring to mind. I think of my resting state physically as a sort of pacing - as soon as I've completed whatever I'm doing (thank you to my 3 core, keeping me restless and frantic), I find myself pacing my studio apartment, checking on my 13 potted plants, straightening the used books and candles that litter my thrifted, wooden surfaces, and reaching out desperately (but like, in a nonchalant, cute, charming way) to make plans with friends.

That's how my emotions play themselves out physically, but I think my baseline emotional state recently is uncertainty. I'm rarely sure if I'm doing what I should be doing; if I'm spending my time wisely; if I'm overthinking everything that happens to me or passes through my mind; if my dream last night about my ex mean I made the wrong call in breaking it off; if I'm a narcissist because of my insatiable appetite for affirmation; if I'm wasting my time/talent by making excuses for how little I dance these days. I regularly feel a bit worried about if I'm in the right place or if I'm using my resources, platform, and privilege for anyone's benefit but my own. This has been exacerbated by the recent dissipation of an all-but-promised job opportunity, leaving me a bit dazed and directionally challenged.

---

Here's some fodder for a new adage, perhaps one that will bring some certainty to the rightness of each day: Keep saying yes. Keep reaching out to your faraway friends. Keep singing the "I am available" song to your coworkers. Keep smiling at your neighbors. Keep doing your pushups and journal entries and midday yoga.

Ok enough, I ramble.