The central thesis of this report is that pathological narcissism is a sophisticated and rigid defensive structure, erected to protect a fragile and unformed Self from the unbearable pain of early relational trauma, an all-encompassing inner void, and crushing shame. This defensive facade, which can manifest as grandiosity or, conversely, as hidden vulnerability, is an attempt to compensate for the lack of a stable inner sense of self-worth and integrity.

It is important to distinguish between the two main phenotypes of this disorder. The classic, or "grandiose," narcissist is arrogant, exhibitionistic, and openly demands admiration.[2, 3] In contrast, the "vulnerable," or "covert," narcissist is more introverted, hypersensitive to criticism, and prone to feelings of shame and envy, although their inner need for recognition is no less strong.[3, 4, 5] Understanding this spectrum is critically important for diagnosis and therapeutic work.

This report aims to provide a comprehensive analysis of the nature of narcissism. The structure of the research will sequentially unfold the topic, moving from the etiology and inner world of the narcissistic personality to its complex behavior in therapy, and will conclude with an exploration of the healing potential of authentic love and strong personal boundaries.

This part lays the fundamental understanding of how the narcissistic personality is constructed, focusing on its origins and the resulting internal landscape.

At the core of narcissistic pathology lies a deep trauma of early childhood, related to the lack of adequate parental care and emotional mirroring. Narcissism arises not from an excess of love, but from its tragic absence or distortion.

The experience of interacting with emotionally unavailable parents has a profound impact on the formation of the narcissistic structure. Susan Schwartz describes such parents as "colorless, listless, emotionally dead." A child growing up in such an atmosphere does not receive the vital experience of warm and secure attachment. This leads to the formation of a deep inner emptiness and the absence of a "good internal object"—a stable, loving image of the parents that could be integrated into one's own psyche.The clinical case of Olga, a 45-year-old former model, is a vivid illustration of this process. Her mother, a famous actress, was constantly absent due to tours, leaving her daughter to be raised by relatives. This physical and emotional abandonment created a "fundamental sadness" and an "object hunger," which Olga in adulthood tried to satisfy through endless relationships, career achievements, and modifications of her own body.

For the healthy development of the Self, a child needs parents to "mirror" their authentic feelings, thereby confirming their existence and value. However, if the parents themselves are narcissistic, they are incapable of such mirroring. Instead, they use the child as a narcissistic extension—an instrument to satisfy their own needs, confirm their own significance, or realize unfulfilled ambitions.[1] The child is loved not for who they are, but for the function they perform. To survive in such a system and receive at least a semblance of love, the child is forced to develop a "false Self" (in Donald Winnicott's terminology) or a "persona" (in Carl Jung's)—a facade that meets the parents' expectations, while renouncing their true, authentic Self. Olga's entire life can be seen as a desperate attempt to conform to the idealized, unattainable image of her mother, whom she describes as an "omnipotent phallic mother."[1] Her modeling career, her pursuit of physical perfection through plastic surgery—all were aimed at earning the recognition of this idealized object.

The consequence of such destructive development is a fragmented, dissociated, and unintegrated Self. The person does not feel like a whole individual. They live with a constant alienation from their own feelings, body, and needs. Olga directly verbalized this state, describing her perception of herself: she sees her "hands, legs, breasts, nose" separately, but is unable to assess herself comprehensively, as a whole.[1] This is not just a metaphor, but a direct clinical manifestation of the internal psychic split resulting from early attachment trauma.

Behind the external facade of self-confidence, success, and charm lies a world filled with pain, fear, and chaos. The internal landscape of the narcissistic personality is characterized not by stability, but by constant fluctuations between opposite poles.

The stereotypical arrogance and grandiosity of the narcissist are not a manifestation of true self-love, but a compensatory defense against unbearable feelings of inferiority, shame, and envy. This grandiose self-presentation is a fragile facade that requires constant external reinforcement in the form of admiration, praise, and attention. This need for narcissistic supply is compulsive, as it serves to regulate an extremely unstable self-esteem that oscillates from a sense of omnipotence to complete worthlessness. Without external validation, the narcissist risks "falling into the inner void" that they intuitively fear.

The Jungian concept of the "as-if personality" accurately describes this state. Such a person functions in the world, often achieving significant success, but does so without genuine emotional involvement or a sense of meaning. They are a "talented actor who plays a role but never believes in it or the stage they find themselves on." This state is closely related to the archetype of the puer/puella aeternus (eternal youth)—a personality that refuses to grow up and face the limitations of reality. Such people avoid commitments, aging, and the hard work necessary for true development, living in a world of fantasies about infinite potential that is never realized.Olga's career, her panic fear of aging, and her endless pursuit of the ideal of youth through plastic surgery are a textbook example of this archetype.[1] This pursuit of eternal youth is not just vanity, but a deep psychological defense against the reality of time, limitations, and ultimately, death. Since her real life has remained unlived and her inner world empty, confronting the reality of aging is unbearable for her, as it symbolizes the final loss of opportunities.

The inner world of the narcissist is defined by three dominant, though often unconscious, affects: envy, shame, and rage. Envy (invidia—literally "not to see") is a central emotion arising from a deep sense of inner lack. The narcissist cannot integrate positive experiences because envy forces them to destroy the good they see in others, instead of developing it within themselves. Shame is a constant, terrifying fear of exposure. It is the fear that others will see their true, "defective" Self, hidden behind the grandiose facade.[1] Narcissistic rage is an explosive, often disproportionate reaction to any perceived slight, criticism, or frustration, which is experienced as a "narcissistic injury." This rage is a defensive reaction aimed at destroying the source of pain to preserve the fragile grandiose self-esteem.

 summarizing data from sources  demonstrates the clinical complexity of narcissism. The common perception of a narcissist as a self-absorbed, grandiose individual is incomplete. The vulnerable type, often presenting with depressive or anxious symptoms, may be misdiagnosed if the underlying narcissistic dynamics driving their suffering are not recognized. This distinction is key to understanding behavior in therapy, as the reasons for fleeing treatment may differ: the grandiose narcissist flees out of rage, while the vulnerable one flees from unbearable shame.

The somatization of the internal conflict is particularly important. The intense focus on the body, as in Olga's case, is not just vanity but a concrete, external expression of an abstract internal problem. The narcissistic personality often lacks the capacity for symbolic thinking to process their trauma.[1] The unbearable feeling of internal "defectiveness" or "emptiness" is projected onto a physical attribute—a nose, breasts, wrinkles. Surgical intervention becomes a desperate, concrete attempt to "cut out" the psychological pain. The inevitable failure of this approach, as the internal problem remains unresolved, only fuels a cycle of endless procedures, disappointments, and the search for a new "flaw" to correct.[1]

For the narcissistic personality, the therapist's office becomes not a safe space for healing, but an arena where the deepest fears, defensive maneuvers, and relationship patterns are played out. The process of psychotherapy is profoundly threatening to the very essence of the narcissistic structure.

At the heart of resistance to therapy lies a paradoxical fear of self-knowledge. As the blind seer Tiresias prophesied in the myth, for Narcissus, "to know himself is to die."[1] Psychotherapy, by its nature, is a process of looking inward, exploring repressed feelings and hidden parts of the personality. The therapist's empathic listening and focus on the patient's inner world threaten to expose the very emptiness, shame, and vulnerability that the entire personality was built to conceal. Therefore, to be truly "seen" by the therapist is perceived not as healing, but as a terrifying annihilation of the false Self, which is the only known way of being.

The narcissist's desperate attempts to control the therapeutic process—dictating topics for discussion, questioning the therapist's competence, intellectualizing instead of feeling—are not a sign of strength, but a manifestation of deep fear. Control is the primary mechanism for managing the anxiety that arises with any attempt to establish closeness and show vulnerability. For the narcissist, ceding control to the therapist is tantamount to psychic surrender and the risk of re-experiencing the childhood trauma where they were a powerless object in the hands of others.

Prematurely ending therapy is an almost inevitable defensive maneuver. This usually happens precisely when the therapeutic process approaches the core of the trauma. The narcissist creates a pretext for escape: they may devalue the therapist ("you're not helping me"), rationalize their decision ("I don't have time/money"), or provoke a conflict. The real reason is that they are fleeing from the unbearable realization that the therapy is working and bringing them closer to the pain they have avoided their entire life.[1] The ultimate reason the narcissist avoids true healing is that it requires them to go through a process of grieving. To heal, they must allow the false Self to die.[1] This means they must finally confront the reality of their childhood and mourn it: the love they never received; the parents they never had; and the authentic life they were forced to renounce. This grief is an ocean of pain in which they believe they will drown. Narcissistic defenses are thus not only a defense against shame but also a defense against this catastrophic grief. Fleeing from therapy is an escape from this necessary but terrifying process of mourning.

The therapeutic relationship inevitably becomes a stage for re-enacting the narcissist's primary attachment patterns. At the beginning of therapy, the patient often idealizes the therapist, projecting onto them the image of an ideal, all-understanding parent who will finally provide the mirroring and unconditional love they were deprived of in childhood.[1]

This idealization is doomed to fail. When the therapist inevitably reveals themselves to be a real, imperfect person—setting boundaries (e.g., ending the session on time), offering an imperfect interpretation, going on vacation—they are knocked off the pedestal. The rage that follows this disappointment is the rage of an abandoned child at the "bad parent" who has betrayed them again. The dynamic of Olga's relationships with her plastic surgeons—first idealizing them as saviors, then filing lawsuits against them as destroyers—is a perfect extra-therapeutic example of this cycle.[1]

The constant testing of boundaries (attempts to extend session times, requests for special treatment, calls outside of working hours) is an unconscious communication. The patient is testing whether the therapist is strong enough to withstand their rage and neediness, and whether the therapeutic frame is a safe container—something they never had in childhood.[6, 7] Thus, the very process of therapy is perceived as a narcissistic injury. The act of seeking help is an admission of one's own imperfection, which is deeply shameful. Every interpretation that points to a defense mechanism is perceived as an attack, provoking either rage or shame, and reinforcing the desire to flee.

Despite the immense difficulties, healing from deep narcissistic wounds is possible, though it requires long and intensive therapeutic work. The key elements of this process are the experience of authentic love and the establishment of clear personal boundaries, which together create the conditions for the integration of the split psyche.

It is important to clarify that "love" in the therapeutic context is not sentimentality or indulgence of pathology. It is the consistent, reliable provision of what psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott called a "holding environment." It is the therapist's capacity for sustained empathy, non-exploitative care, and the ability to see and validate the true, suffering Self hidden beneath the layers of the false persona.[1]

Authentic love is transformative precisely because it cannot be controlled.[1] It requires the recognition of the Other as a separate subject, not as an object for satisfying one's own needs. Successful long-term therapy allows the patient to slowly internalize the therapist's consistent empathy, building the internal structures for self-compassion and self-regulation that were not formed in childhood. This allows them to begin "becoming real," like the Velveteen Rabbit from the parable cited in Schwartz's work.[1] This process is slow and painful, as it requires abandoning the illusion of omnipotence and accepting one's own vulnerability.

For the narcissistic personality, the boundaries set by the therapist are not a punitive measure, but a fundamental, life-giving therapeutic intervention. The narcissist grew up in a fused, symbiotic environment where there was no sense of a separate Self. Clear, consistent boundaries in therapy (regarding time, payment, contact outside of sessions) provide the first real experience of differentiation. They teach the patient in practice where they end and another person begins.[6, 7, 8]

The therapist must be able to withstand the patient's rage directed at these boundaries without responding with aggression or giving in. This creates a "corrective emotional experience": the patient learns that their needs and anger will not destroy the other person, and that relationships can withstand separateness and disagreement. This lays the foundation for building healthy relationships outside the therapeutic office.[9, 10] Love and boundaries are not separate interventions but a single therapeutic stance. Love without boundaries repeats the fused, suffocating dynamics of the narcissistic family and indulges the pathology. Boundaries without love are perceived as cold, punitive, and rejecting, repeating the trauma of emotional abandonment. The therapeutic power lies precisely in the dialectical tension between them: the therapist's unwavering empathy ("love") operates within a strong, reliable structure ("boundaries"). This combination creates the security necessary for the true Self to finally emerge.

The final stage of healing, according to the Jungian perspective outlined in Susan Schwartz's work, requires the integration of the "shadow"—all those parts of the Self that have been rejected, repressed, and projected onto others: envy, rage, deep neediness, vulnerability.[1] The recurring dream of a man committing a "crime" is a perfect metaphor for this unrecognized shadow Self that continues to operate in the unconscious.[1]

The goal of therapy is not to eliminate narcissistic traits, but to integrate them into a more mature and whole personality. It is a journey from the enchanted contemplation of an idealized reflection in the water to becoming a whole, imperfect, and authentic person capable of engaging with life, love, and the Other. This requires accepting the "terrible, destructive things" within oneself, as Jung argued, so that the shadow can become not a devil, but a source of vitality and creativity.[1] The ultimate goal is not to "cure" the patient of narcissism, but for them to undergo a profound process of psychological development. The Jungian concept of individuation is central here.[1] The therapeutic journey forces the narcissist to complete the developmental tasks they failed to accomplish in childhood: differentiating the Self from the other (through boundaries), developing the capacity for genuine relationships (through love), and integrating rejected parts of the psyche (the shadow). The result is not the absence of pathology, but the emergence of a more complex, resilient, and whole personality, capable of living an authentic life rather than performing a role in a play.

The path to healing from pathological narcissism is extremely difficult, long, and painful. It is a process that can take not just one year, but decades, and requires immense courage from the patient and patience and resilience from the therapist.[11] As the analysis shows, the narcissistic structure is a deeply ingrained defense against early trauma, and any attempt to dismantle it is met with fierce resistance.

The key conclusion is that the success of therapy is measured not by the complete elimination of narcissistic feelings, but by the development of the ability to recognize them, tolerate them without acting destructively, and choose a more mature, relationship-oriented way of being. It is about integration, not eradication. A healthy dose of narcissism, manifested as adequate self-esteem and the ability to share one's achievements, is necessary for a fulfilling life.[1] The pathology lies in the rigidity and all-encompassing nature of the defense mechanisms that make genuine contact with oneself and others impossible.

In conclusion, it is worth returning to the myth. In the place where Narcissus dies, mesmerized by his own reflection, a flower grows.[1] This image serves as a powerful metaphor for the therapeutic process. It symbolizes the potential for new life, beauty, and transformation that can arise from the death of the false, idealized Self. By going through the painful process of grieving for what never was and integrating their shadow, a person with narcissistic wounds can finally turn away from the sterile reflection and begin to engage with the richness, complexity, and imperfection of the real world, finding true love and meaning in it.