This morning I listened to a video on YouTube that touched on a question I’ve been carrying with me for quite some time.
The video was titled “Who the Empath Becomes After Surviving the Narcissist”, supposedly narrated by Carl Jung. I don’t believe that for a second — Jung never spoke about “the empath.”
Still, I didn’t find the content entirely uninteresting. One particular statement caught my attention:
“The narcissist cannot see you, because then they would have to see themselves.”
I may not remember it word for word, but it was something along those lines.
The thought resonated with me immediately, because I know people who display these kinds of traits. I’m not speaking about diagnoses — I’m simply referring to patterns in communication and behavior that many of us will recognize.
What I’ve noticed is that these people do something I would call “lying” — mainly to themselves.
(Not necessarily consciously, but that’s how it appears from my perspective.) It is as if they reshape reality to fit an inner narrative. They don’t seem able — or willing — to see reality, or themselves, as they truly are. And perhaps that is also why they cannot really see another person for who they are, but only for the role that person plays in their inner world.
Coming back to that statement — “The narcissist cannot see you, because then they would have to see themselves” — I realize now why it struck me so deeply. It helped me understand how little sense it makes to insist that such a person should finally see you for who you really are.
Because they cannot afford to.
The role they have assigned to you is not random — it is part of a larger inner structure, a carefully held version of reality that supports their sense of self. To challenge that reality can be like pulling a card from a house of cards. The whole structure is fragile, and they will do everything they can to keep it from collapsing.
Until now, I hadn’t fully realized how deeply this inability to see another person is embedded in something much larger. Or how threatening it can be for them when someone insists on being seen as they truly are.
That doesn’t mean it is not uncomfortable — or even painful — to be forced into a role that doesn’t belong to you.
To not be acknowledged for who you truly are.
To feel that who you are simply doesn’t register in the other.
And at some point, you realize there is nothing there to argue with. Almost as if you’re speaking into empty space — waiting for something to land, but there is nowhere for it to land.
Where it’s not necessary, I step away.
Not because I don’t understand — but because I do.
If this strikes a chord, you may have experienced something similar in your life — or seen it in someone you know. What thoughts or feelings does this bring up for you?
Have you ever felt unseen in this way?
Or tried to make someone see you, only to realize it didn’t land?
If you feel this might speak to someone else, feel free to share it with them.
Or leave a comment — I’d be genuinely interested to hear your experience.
Featured in SATURDAYS with Diana "Am I Worthy of Love—Even Without Him?" Read the issue → Photo: Logan Weaver
The role they have assigned to you is not random — it is part of a larger inner structure, a carefully held version of reality that supports their sense of self. To challenge that reality can be like pulling a card from a house of cards. The whole structure is fragile, and they will do everything they can to keep it from collapsing.
Until now, I hadn’t fully realized how deeply this inability to see another person is embedded in something much larger. Or how threatening it can be for them when someone insists on being seen as they truly are.
That doesn’t mean it is not uncomfortable — or even painful — to be forced into a role that doesn’t belong to you.
To not be acknowledged for who you truly are.
To feel that who you are simply doesn’t register in the other.
And at some point, you realize there is nothing there to argue with. Almost as if you’re speaking into empty space — waiting for something to land, but there is nowhere for it to land.
Where it’s not necessary, I step away.
Not because I don’t understand — but because I do.
If this strikes a chord, you may have experienced something similar in your life — or seen it in someone you know. What thoughts or feelings does this bring up for you?
Have you ever felt unseen in this way?
Or tried to make someone see you, only to realize it didn’t land?
If you feel this might speak to someone else, feel free to share it with them.
Or leave a comment — I’d be genuinely interested to hear your experience.
Featured in SATURDAYS with Diana "Am I Worthy of Love—Even Without Him?" Read the issue → Photo: Logan Weaver
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