Narcie The Narcissist on January 1st 2018

January 1st is always a bit of a strange day.

The first week of a new year can feel surreal.

If you’ve ever lived with a narcissist, every day of every year can feel strange and surreal.

Narcissists are big egos with big dreams of a big life… and the typical narcissist expects those big dreams to come true for them overnight.

Thanks to the wave of the wand of a fairy godmother.

Or a magical spell cast by a powerful sorcerer.

Or a wish granted by a star.

A miracle made specially just for them.

When their magical miracle doesn’t happen right away, the big dreams of their big ego for a big life can burst like a big balloon which was filled up beyond breaking point yet still somehow held itself together until it met that sharp little pin known as reality which pricked it and punctured its skin.

It whooshes around spewing hot air all over the place, bashing into the ceiling, walls, knocking things off shelves, bumping into people, until finally, with a last fart, ending up in a flop onto the floor.

A sad, blue narcissist is in some ways the worst kind of narcissist to have to deal with because no one has woes like they do, no one feels as loudly and as longingly long as they do. Their vocal drama pales in comparison to their deeply disappointed, despondent, depressed silence.

There is nothing you can say or do to make them happy, to make them feel better, not when they’re in their misery zone.



My mother had many big dreams for her life.

Quite a few of those came true for her, one or two happened almost magically and miraculously overnight (not really, but that’s how she told those stories, that’s how she remembered it happening, and how she told things, how she remembered things – that was how it happened!).

But even when her big ego’s big dreams for a big life came true for her… it was never big enough, or good enough, or as perfect as she needed it to be for her to be happy about it.

There was always something bigger and better just around the corner, over the horizon, waiting for her tomorrow, in the new year, on her birthday, or some other magical day when miracles are supposed to happen.

She spent so much time thinking and imagining about what could be, and how happy she would be when what could be was hers… she could never be happy with what was right here, right now, hers today.




  1. Somehow I mysteriously unfollowed you – not sure how that happens but it explains why your posts weren’t showing up. Sometimes I don’t understand WordPress, but that’s not the only thing. πŸ™‚

    Anyway, good post. I’m enjoying your drawings and how they communicate that for the narcissist, enough is never enough. There’s something about them too that makes me feel sorry for your mother and mine. Not for their self-imposed victimhood, but for their inability to see that they needed to do some self-examination, some self-reflection, that there was a lot of satisfaction to be had if they could have allowed that for themselves. My mother could have had a much more contented life (there was only England) and she missed out on that (and so did we by extension).


    • Thank you for sharing πŸ™‚

      Yeah, yeah, yeah… you “Somehow I mysteriously unfollowed” me πŸ˜‰ Let’s face it, a part of you keeps trying to get away from me, but another part of you won’t let you!

      It’s a regular WP glitch whenever the Happiness Engineers are sprinkling magical update dust on the platform… or is it!?

      I’m experimenting with how I’m doing Narcie at the moment. It’s a work in progress. But I’m already attached to her. I like how she’s taking shape. I’m glad there’s an element of sympathy/empathy coming across. I don’t want to be too harsh about or make fun of narcissists. I just want to tell a story, a layered one with the personal woven into it.

      Narcissists are more stuck than we are in narc-hell. We can get out, but they, it appears, never can.

      I don’t think your mother would have had a more contented life in England because she was her own baggage, and that kind of baggage would have gone with her and made wherever she was not the place for her to be. Wherever a narc goes in search of happiness ends up being their unhappy place. And in that unhappy place they wax nostalgic about other places where they would be happy if only… but…

      In some ways narcs are an exaggerated form of the human condition, the puzzle we all experience and try to solve.


      • Hahaha. πŸ™‚ You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid. πŸ™‚

        But seriously, at the start of the year, I have to check on these sort of dropouts that occur.

        You’re definitely not making fun and I can see the real hurt in there that made the narcissist. For me, It’s a bit like watching a car crash – the bystander can see that it could have been prevented but there just wasn’t enough time …

        Narcie is a bit tragic, too, although it’s not the kind of dramatic tragedy that she would want. It’s a sort of garden

        Liked by 1 person

        • variety tragedy, mundane even, which makes it worse. She could improve her situation but can’t see that in a real way.

          Yes, narcs are an exaggerated form of us. And that makes it important to have sympathy for them, even though you still have to keep your distance. They are what they are.

          Liked by 1 person

  2. My goodness, you are so skilled! Congrats! I hope you are enjoying drawing the series – because I really enjoyed reading it! Oh, and a cheerful and narc-free 2018 for all of us (if only…lol!).


Comments are closed.