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What made her think she could get away with it? Why did she do it? As a psychologist, these are the questions I have heard asked over and over in relation to the so-called mushroom trial.
Erin Patterson’s explanations for her behaviour stretch credibility, or – as the prosecution put it – “beggars belief”. The answer can perhaps be summed up by American self-help guru Wayne Dyer – “When I change the way I look at things, the things I look at change.” The quote is meant to show how changing our perspective can improve matters, but it also demonstrates how the lens we look through affects our perception of reality.
Erin Patterson arrives in the back of a prison transport vehicle at Latrobe Valley Law Courts in Morwell on May 12.Credit: AFP
The reason Patterson, who on Monday was found guilty of three charges of murder and one of attempted murder, thought she could get away with it, the reason she did it, was because she does not see the world the same way as you and me. Her lens is different. Insight may be gained by considering Patterson’s world view from the perspective of the narcissist.
Most of us start life believing we are the centre of the universe, then through a series of reality checks, we learn we are merely a bit player. It’s reasonable to consider that Patterson learnt a different lesson – one in which her survival depended on her remaining at the centre of her world with everything and everyone else revolving around her.
Through the eyes of the narcissistic personality, they are the central body, while others are mere appendages whose words and deeds fall in an orbit around them. Greek mythology tells us that Narcissus was the exceptional hunter and beauty cursed by the gods to continuously fall in love with his own reflection whenever he stared into a pond. A lesser-known part of the story is that the reason Narcissus was cursed was because he rejected any suitor who showed an interest.
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Acceptance and rejection are the over-arching themes for the narcissistic personality. On the one hand, the narcissist craves acceptance and will go to great lengths to morph their interests and behaviour to fit in. On the other hand, their reaction to perceived rejection can be excessive and brutal.
In Patterson’s case, she became a Christian to be accepted by the Patterson family. In her mind, she was loved and belonged, but her fragile self-worth made her doubt her position – a situation necessitating ongoing vigilance and maintenance. For those around her, especially family and friends, her attempts to fit in would have come across as alternatingly pleasant, awkward, and irritating. Irritating because the underlying fakeness would be palpable.
While the narcissist might genuinely believe in who they have become, they have not really become anything. They have simply undergone a temporary transformation born out of a desperate need to be accepted. Since their sense of self is so fragile, so too is the transformation.
On the witness stand, Patterson transformed herself again. She was “sorry” for saying awful things about her extended family. The defence facilitated this perception of a normal, sometimes cranky person who naturally clashed with her extended family. Just like the rest of us.
To outsiders, the narcissist is obviously duplicitous, but the narcissist themselves does not necessarily experience their contradictory words and actions as fake. Their fakeness is their reality. The “real” Erin Patterson, is a constructed confection that changes on an as need basis according to the circumstances. When a young Patterson was working as an air-traffic controller, a former colleague described her as someone who “managed to get guys wrapped around her little finger although she was very unkempt … [and] abrasive”. This highlights the two sides of the narcissist – the outwardly charming, bright person whose mental reality breaks through via eccentric outbursts and abrasive interactions. An otherwise competent person whose dishevelled appearance betrays an internal disorganisation.
Patterson’s use of confabulation – where facts are fabricated, distorted, and misinterpreted – as well as bold-faced untruths and compulsive lying are entirely consistent with this type of personality; one which desperately seeks to control the narrative. The narcissist may not truly make the distinction between the truth and a lie because their whole life, their whole self, is a lie. When they lie, they are in fact, being consistent.
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Ironically and sadly, the narcissist’s desperate attempts to fit in can drive people away. Their personality, finely attuned as it is to any signs of change in relationship dynamics, picks up other’s irritation or withdrawal, triggering overwhelming feelings of impending rejection. Panic sets in and a compulsion grows to control the situation. Poorly developed skills to remedy everyday misunderstandings leads to more drastic action. We can all feel insecure, but for the true narcissist, the smallest hint of displeasure from those with whom they seek attachment sends them into a raging, destructive cycle. Since everything revolves around them, minor words and actions from others take on major significance.
From our lens, the parents-in-law’s refusal to get involved in their son and daughter-in-law’s squabbles could be seen as an attempt to be diplomatic, or even a way to protect their relationship with both parties. But for the narcissist, the parents’ response is perceived as malevolent and threatening. It’s likely Patterson truthfully believed she was being “cut out” of the family dynamics, even if that was not the case. For the narcissist, this signals rejection and rejection cannot be tolerated, or left unanswered.
Mary Hahn-Thomsen is a Melbourne psychologist.
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