From the author
In Pursuit of Healing

One day, while casually re-watching an old lighthearted TV series, I caught myself thinking: “How simple, sincere, and unaffected their lives seem! No endless analysis, no buzzwords like 'abuser' and 'narcissist', no constant discussions about personal boundaries or independence. Just life.” Indeed, those old stories were so full of life.

It struck me then how much we have been “spoiled” by modern psychology (there really should be a little smiley face here, but the editor will not allow it). It became painfully clear that most people I meet today are preoccupied with how “unhealed” or “immature” they still are – as if, somewhere along the way, these became necessary prerequisites for living, loving, building friendships, or having relationships. And so, we all rushed into endless self-work, hoping to one day earn that coveted ticket to the paradise of the healed and normal.

I found myself wondering: When did we fall so deeply in love with the idea of self-perfection? When did self-work start to look more like a moral obligation than a living process of seeking ourselves? It feels like we have turned our inner lives into projects with strict deadlines, where every “immature” feeling is a missed milestone, and every unresolved pain is a failed assignment.

Paradoxically, in our desperate race for healing, we often lose life itself – interrupting it at every step with self-monitoring: “Am I mature enough now?” “Am I still too unhealed?” Instead of simply feeling, loving, making mistakes, we analyze ourselves, scan every emotion for “trauma”, and keep thinking: “Just a little more work on myself and then I can finally be happy…”.

But life is not a checklist waiting for all boxes to be ticked. The maturity we will reflect on together is not a prize for good behavior, not a status awarded after mastering every psychological level. It is a path, a movement shaped by how we meet reality and weave it into the fabric of who we are.

At the very start, it is important to remember:

Life does not wait for us to solve all our internal conflicts or reach “full maturity”.

It is already happening – right here, right now.

And perhaps, our task is not to “fix ourselves” but to learn to live within this imperfect human experience – to coexist with our inner paradoxes, with that strange mix of love, fear, desire, and anxiety that makes us alive, instead of endlessly postponing life under the pretext of self-improvement.

Let us think about this together. Without rushing. Without judgment. Simply observing the remarkable puzzle of our Self slowly coming together.

You are holding a special work in your hands – a book that brings together knowledge from different fields of psychology. This information will help you better understand your mental life. It will help you find words for your inner processes and states, those vague sensations you may have felt but never clearly named.

This book is an invitation to a deep dialogue with yourself. It will help you understand the structure of your relationships with the world, with others, and, most importantly, with yourself. You will see how wounds, disappointments, and internal conflicts have shaped your personality and how you can begin the journey back toward your own integrity.

As you read and reflect, your unconscious will awaken. Your dreams may grow richer, your fantasies bolder, your memories more vivid. You will start noticing inner patterns that previously lived quietly in the background. It will not always be easy, but that is how we begin to truly know ourselves.

In every chapter, you will find life stories, which do not provide theoretical explanations but help you recognize yourself in other people. You will see that your background is a part of the shared human experience, and this realization will bring you closer to others.

Practical exercises, reflection prompts, and checklists encountered throughout the book are not simple tasks to complete but a gentle way to build a deeper connection with yourself. Gradually, you will learn to recognize where harsh, critical voices dominate your inner world, and how you might soften their hold.

This book will guide you through essential stages: from acknowledging your wounds and vulnerability, to discovering the strength hidden within your authenticity. You will see how your Adult Self can become a guide for your Inner Child, helping them leave their lonely inner exile. You will begin to sense freedom from the destructive inner filters that make the outside world seem so unbearable to you today.

Together, we will work on changing your internal dialogue, so that, over time, the stern voice of self-criticism gives way to a voice that is respectful and supportive. By the end of this journey, you will feel closer to yourself —

more alive, more whole, more real. This is not a journey of “fixing yourself”. It is a journey of discovering and accepting the self that, perhaps, you have never truly known.

Introduction
The Epidemic of Narcissistic Loneliness

Hello. It's me, your narcissism

Yes, the very same you might have read about in books and articles, usually portrayed as some kind of inner enemy. But what if I, your narcissism, have always been on your side? I'm not about arrogance or selfishness. I am your protection. A subtle, complex mechanism that helped you cope with hardships and preserve yourself when the world seemed not to see you or worse, to reject you.

Once, I was simply a part of your inner childhood world. Born alongside you so that your sense of self could emerge. I helped you feel: “I exist. I matter.” But then I saw how often you lacked acceptance, safety, support. So, I stepped in stronger.

I began creating roles and masks for you so that you wouldn't have to face the pain of your real self being unseen, uninteresting, or unwanted. Those roles helped you survive, but over time, they started getting in the way of living. I see how you sometimes wake up feeling the day is already lost. How every action turns into a tiny test: Was it good enough? Fast enough? Smart enough? How even rest becomes a competition: who got more done, who was more productive? That's not you. That's me whispering that if you just try a little harder, you'll feel worthy. But that voice – it's not your true essence. It's just an echo of the old pain I tried to muffle but only made louder.

You know, I always wanted one thing: for you to feel significant. Remember how, as a child, you craved being noticed? How you lit up when someone praised your drawing, your schoolwork, your bravery or kindness? That was me, whispering: “You can do it! You're important!” My task was to make sure you never forgot that feeling.

I wanted you to see yourself through the eyes of those who loved you. I worked so hard hoping you'd find such eyes and reflect yourself in them! So that you could say, “I exist. And that's enough.” I could have been the cement holding together the fragments of your self, helping you realize you are unique, worthy, whole. But sometimes, the world didn't respond.

Often, those whose acknowledgment you longed for turned away or criticized you. Even those closest to you couldn't always give what you needed. I whispered: “Hold on. Don't show weakness. You can do it!” I tried so hard to shield you from new wounds, new rejections that, without noticing, I became more of a captor than a supporter.

And now, when I see how my protection brings you resentment, anger, and exhaustion, it hurts me too. I never meant for it to end up this way. I just tried to keep you from falling, feeling worthless or not enough. And it seems, I overdid it. Instead of inspiring you, I began to control you. Instead of freedom, I built endless checklists: good enough, right enough, fast enough.

I see how hard it is for you. How you look in the mirror and feel unsure. How you hold back bold steps, afraid of making mistakes. How you close off when you want to show true feelings, because you're afraid of judgment. This is not what I wanted for you. This is not what you deserve.

I'm here to say: it's time for me to stop being your overseer. I want to become your ally, helping you see that even with all your imperfections, you are already good enough. Let's rewrite the story of our relationship in order to cooperate for your better future.

Narcissism: A Story of Our Relationship with Ourselves

In psychoanalysis, narcissism is not just a character trait and certainly not simply a mental disorder. It is a fundamental structure that shapes our relationship with ourselves and others. At its core lies the ability to feel one's own value and significance, which is an essential part of psychological health. It is how we build our sense of self, balancing internal experiences with external expectations.

In early childhood, narcissism is natural: the child sees themselves as the center of the world, and that grandiosity helps their Self to grow. The “narcissistic piggy bank” gathers together the history of our relationship with ourselves. It holds all traces of love and rejection, joy and sorrow, unexpected discoveries in relationships with our close ones and devastating losses. Narcissism is designed by nature precisely to allow our Self to first emerge within the field of relationships with parents. Like connecting cement, it binds the scattered puzzles of our Self into a holistic view of ourselves, so we can rely on it and navigate our inner world.

From the very beginning, narcissism was on our side. Thanks to it, we felt significant, coped with early challenges, and learned how to relate to the world.

But not everything went smoothly. When there was not enough attention, acceptance, or simply the safety to be oneself, narcissism had to work differently. Sometimes, it reminds me of that song: “I made him out of what was at hand…”. It stitched our self-image together from the chaotic fantasies and the reflections we caught in the eyes of those around us. Sometimes, there were not enough reflections. Sometimes, they were colored too darkly, showing only our flaws. Sometimes, they were distorted by parental expectations we could never quite meet.

Thus, narcissism sewed us a costume not tailored to our Real Self but to the pattern we were handed. And it helped preserve the vital connections we needed so desperately – more than we needed to stay loyal to ourselves.

At the heart of this kind of narcissistic work, there is always the fragility of the construction of what we can consider our Self. As if it wants to emerge but keeps hiding in its childhood costume, still unable to find a healthy form of living in today's world.

We do not know whether we should flaunt our strengths, hide our flaws, or, on the contrary, obsessively embrace everything in ourselves so that it becomes an egoistic message to the world:

“Accept me as I am. I don't care what you think of me.”

It is not possible to always fully feel what our Self actually is, and we do not know how to replenish the missing pieces of that fullness. So, we decide: “Maybe I'll feel it through achievements and success?” “Or through enthusiastic responses – or at least through any attention at all?” “Or maybe I should stop needing it altogether, so I won't be so vulnerable and dependent?”

A New Model of Narcissism

One day, a client of mine, a very successful woman by modern standards, complained about an unfair comment she had received on social media. A comment that, in my view, was borderline abusive. I asked her how she felt about it. I was not surprised when she said she was angry with herself. Since every pop-psychology outlet she had encountered had already explained that “if you have high self-esteem, nothing can hurt you”. So, logically, she wanted to get rid of her feelings – her woundedness, which revealed her vulnerability to others.

I think I would be right if I say that most of my clients think the same.

Some believe they must forbid themselves to feel “inappropriate” tenderness toward anyone who has not yet “earned” loyalty. Others think they must purge anger from themselves to show they have total control over their mood and emotions. Some wish to become utterly free of needing care or support. “Why does this affect me so much?” “Why do I care so much?”, they ask me, convinced that it is abnormal. They believe that our work together must help them to finally rise above all this everyday fuss and human relationships filled with feelings for each other.

What is being glorified today as personal growth model is, in fact, a new form of social narcissism. Everyone thinks it is about constant striving for success and craving recognition. But it is subtler and more insidious. Detached from our Real Self, unsure of who we really are, our “narcissistic costumes” now disguise us as “healed” and “well-therapized”.

Now, vulnerability is seen as a mistake. Feelings, even the most natural and sincere ones, are treated as weaknesses, as signs of immaturity. And it is not just a personal conviction. It is practically a rule in the culture of “successful” people. We think real maturity is about being above emotions, mastering them, controlling them. About not feeling pain, offense, longing, or dependency. And certainly, about never showing anything like that to others.

It is fitting to recall Ayn Rand's words here: “In an absolute sense, an egoist is not someone who sacrifices others. He is someone who stands above the need to use others. He does without them. They are irrelevant to his purposes, motives, thoughts, desires, or the sources of his energy.”^[1] But if you look closer, you will not see strength in this “absolute egoist” – you will see fear. Fear of showing feelings. Fear of needing others. Fear of being misunderstood or rejected.

It is that fear that drives us to hide behind “healing” and stoicism.

We learn not to feel – because feeling hurts.

We learn not to need – because needing makes us vulnerable.

We learn not to want anything from others – because they might reject us, and we might get hurt.

We learn to keep our distance – because closeness always carries risks.

When my client got angry at herself for feeling hurt, she was actually angry at her Self for refusing to fit into this new model. Her feelings were real, but the model demanded that they disappear. And in this conflict between the Real Self and their “narcissistic costume”, she is not alone.

Many of us live trying to be invisibly vulnerable and perfectly indifferent at the same time.

Since that is sold to us as success in personal development.

Confused People

New social models (by the way, with the help of pop-psychology) have reprogrammed our defensive narcissism. It is as if it received new instructions on how to protect who we are – and simultaneously create the illusion that we are manifested authentically.