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We hear a lot about narcissism these days, and yet some of the most toxic people you could imagine are celebrated by many, and despite their obvious flaws, are elected into the most powerful positions. But, in the face of polarization and in reaction to movements like Me Too, where the weight of more than a century of violence is finally being acknowledged, we still too often shut down any effort to understand the oppressed feminine (within us all). We label the opposite of narcissism as "playing the victim."
I’ve always found this confusing, because emotions that people express in response to abuse and oppression are often dismissed as manipulative, when in fact, they could simply be people who love too deeply in a world scarred by trauma. When I was at the Jung Institute last year, I was given a key to understanding this dynamic—the other side of the mythological narrative: Echo.
Despite narcissus taking all the glory of the story, the myth of Narcissus is also the myth of Echo, an archetype who represents unrequited love and the consequences of losing yourself in someone else’s reflection. In Greek mythology, Echo was a beautiful nymph, gifted with the ability to speak only in repetition, echoing the last words anyone said. But there’s a twist—Echo's story isn't just about her love for Narcissus (though that’s the most more known part which literally echos our history of recorded history). It’s about a deeper, symbolic struggle that many of us, especially therapists, find ourselves contending with.
Echo’s voice, once full of life and individuality, becomes trapped in an eternal echo, reflecting only the voices of others and losing her own. She falls deeply in love with Narcissus, who is so entranced by his own reflection in a pool of water that he cannot love anyone else in return. Echo, unable to be loved in return, fades away into nothingness, leaving only her voice behind. This myth speaks to the danger of losing yourself—of becoming so consumed by someone else’s image, by the idea of who they are, that you forget your own value, your own essence.
Echo is not just a tragic figure; she’s a warning. She represents the danger of self-erasure—when you fall in love with someone or something so deeply that you lose sight of your own reflection. She speaks to the importance of self-love, of not allowing yourself to become just a reflection of someone else’s desires or emotions. Echo’s tragic end is a reminder that the voice we echo is only truly ours if we speak with it authentically, and that to love fully, we must also love ourselves.
From a mythological standpoint, Echo’s story is both heartbreaking and enlightening. It’s about the danger of living in others' shadows, of silencing your own voice to mirror someone else’s. The myth teaches us that we must find our own reflection before we can truly love anyone else. Echo’s voice, though forever lingering in the world as a reminder, can’t find peace until she stops echoing Narcissus’ image and starts hearing her own voice once more. It’s the journey of finding your voice, of returning to your own true reflection, no longer just an echo.
Echoism often develops when someone grows up in an environment where they are constantly expected to prioritize others' needs over their own. It can emerge from being around a parent or caregiver who has either a narcissistic or emotionally demanding personality, leading the child to suppress their own desires or emotions to avoid conflict or to meet the parent's needs. When a child internalizes the idea that their worth is tied to pleasing others or being self-sacrificial, they can develop echoism as a coping mechanism.
The connection here is that when a child witnesses their parent's sacrifices or “selflessness,” they may feel obligated to return that “sacrifice” by becoming subservient, silent about their own needs, or even minimizing their own pain to avoid seeming ungrateful or selfish. This can create an unhealthy pattern where the person struggles to assert their own desires, has difficulty setting boundaries, and feels guilty about taking up space or asking for their own needs to be met.
In therapy, helping someone see this pattern involves recognizing the difference between genuine love and care versus a dynamic where their well-being is consistently subordinated to others. It can be liberating for them to learn that it’s okay to have their own voice and needs without the guilt or fear of being seen as selfish, even if their parents’ sacrifices were framed as “selfless” or important. This is a way of unlearning echoism and starting to reclaim their own autonomy and self-worth.
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