For my own emotional safety and privacy, I have chosen to use alternate names for those involved. “Debby” and “Valerie” are not their real names, but they represent very real pain. For most of my life, I questioned my reactions to emotional pain. I convinced myself I was too sensitive, too reactive, or too forgiving. It took years of confusion, self-blame, and emotional exhaustion before I understood that I had been caught in a cycle of narcissistic abuse, carefully hidden behind smiles, passive-aggressive remarks, and performative concern.
“You always twist everything to make yourself the victim. It’s exhausting.”
Debby came into my life through family. She was the kind of person who masked cruelty behind sweetness and intelligence. To everyone else, she appeared thoughtful, well-spoken, even graceful. But in private moments, she delivered cutting comments with a smile and thrived on power dynamics she subtly engineered. She often played the victim while simultaneously controlling the narrative, twisting events and conversations to paint herself as misunderstood or targeted. It took me a long time to realize that she enjoyed emotional chaos as long as it kept her in the spotlight. One message from Debby still echoes in my mind: “You always twist everything to make yourself the victim. It’s exhausting.” Debby’s manipulation tactics were layered and calculated. She used triangulation frequently, looping in others behind my back to shift perception and create confusion. She and her husband even learned sign language as a private form of communication in front of others, including me, and once signed a message to him during a family gathering to “control your mother and get her checked” because she felt annoyed by his mom.
She frequently used the phrase, “You’re being aggressive,” any time I attempted to express a boundary or respond to her provocations. Debby also weaponized private information I had shared with her, subtly leaking it to others in a twisted form to damage my reputation while keeping her own hands clean. She refused to take accountability for anything but thrived on issuing ultimatums, flipping the script, and responding with, “Then stop contacting me,” when I asked for respect and honesty.
Then came Valerie.
She portrayed herself as the nurturing one, the martyr holding everything together. But underneath the surface, she constantly positioned herself above others. She was more subtle, using backhanded compliments, guilt trips, and triangulation to maintain control. I found myself second-guessing every interaction with her, walking on eggshells to avoid triggering her defensiveness or judgment. When I did try to set boundaries, she would redirect the focus onto herself, making my pain feel inconvenient or invalid. One message from Valerie that stayed with me was: “You should really think about why everyone has such a hard time getting along with you.” Valerie’s manipulation was often masked in concern or self-pity. She regularly framed herself as the peacemaker, while quietly seeding division behind the scenes. She frequently called her own husband “crazy” in front of others to invalidate his feelings or opinions.
On one hand, she portrayed herself as rejected and mistreated, and on the other, she seemed tightly woven into the fabric of her family’s life.
Valerie convinced him to annul a previous marriage through the Catholic Church in order to marry her, despite his having children from that relationship. She also used guilt-based tactics to gain control over family dynamics, such as framing her involvement in every situation as being “just to help” while taking subtle jabs at others’ character. When she felt threatened or confronted, she would say, “I’m just trying to keep the peace,” as a way to end the conversation and avoid accountability. Her most consistent tactic was rewriting history, claiming I was distant, difficult, or dramatic while minimizing her own role in creating those dynamics. Valerie also frequently claimed to be the black sheep in her own family, stating that no one liked her or treated her well. Yet despite those claims, she maintained a close and visible relationship with her family, posting affectionate messages online and attending family events regularly. This contradiction only added to the confusion. On one hand, she portrayed herself as rejected and mistreated, and on the other, she seemed tightly woven into the fabric of her family’s life. It created an illusion that made her stories harder to question, because they came wrapped in both victimhood and performance. I tolerated it for a long time. I stayed quiet to avoid making waves, hoping things would change if I just tried harder. But the more I bent myself to keep the peace, the more fractured I became inside. I started losing trust in my own perception.
I isolated myself emotionally, ashamed of how deeply these women’s words and behaviors affected me. The turning point came when I began learning about narcissistic behavior patterns. Suddenly, my experiences made sense. The love-bombing, the gaslighting, the silent treatment, the manipulation, it all clicked. I was not imagining it. I was not being dramatic. I had been systematically emotionally worn down by individuals who needed to feel superior in order to feel secure. Healing did not happen overnight. It started with journaling, therapy, and slowly allowing myself to believe that what happened was real. I created distance. I stopped explaining myself to those committed to misunderstanding me. I permitted myself to choose peace over performance, and truth over silence. Telling this story is not about revenge. It is about reclaiming my voice after years of being silenced through subtle cruelty. It is about helping others feel less alone in the shadows of emotional manipulation. If you recognize yourself in this story, please know: you are not weak, and you are not alone. What you went through was real. And you deserve the kind of love that does not demand your silence as the price of belonging. Disclaimer: Names have been changed to protect my privacy. Any resemblance to real individuals is purely coincidental.
10 Ways to Spot a Narcissist.
10 Ways to Spot a Narcissist. They twist facts to fit their version of the story.
1. They rewrite conversations and events to make themselves look like the victim or the hero, never the problem.
2. They give backhanded compliments. Praise often comes with a sting, like “You look good… for once.”
3. They lack accountability. Apologies, if given, are usually deflective- “Sorry you feel that way,” instead of genuine remorse. 4. They demand loyalty but gossip about others, even those considered close to them, under the guise of “superiority” or “concern”. They create alliances to isolate people and maintain control, then turn on others just as quickly.
5. They use your emotions against you. Vulnerability is weaponized. When you open up, they later use your words to shame or discredit you.
6. They thrive on control and attention. If the focus is not on them, they find subtle or dramatic ways to reclaim the spotlight. 7. They play the victim when called out. Instead of addressing the issue, they redirect by saying, “I can’t believe you would accuse me of that” or “what do you mean by accountability?” only admitting that they have no intentions or can’t possess the capacity to hold such a standard
8. They fluctuate between idealizing and devaluing. One moment you are “the only one who understands them,” and the next, you are “too much” or “not enough.”
9. They make you doubt your reality. Through gaslighting, they cause you to question your memory, perception, or feelings. 10. They are highly reactive to boundaries. Any request for space, clarity, or respect is seen as an attack or betrayal.
10 Grounded Phrases to Keep Your Peace and Integrity
1. “That is not how I experienced it, and I will not debate my reality.” (Clear, calm, and boundary-based.)
2. “I will not engage in a conversation that twists my words.” (Stops the spin.)
3. “You are entitled to your version. I am allowed to hold mine.” (Affirms both separation and self-trust.)
4. “I am not available for guilt trips or emotional manipulation.” (Names the tactic without getting pulled in.)
5. “We can continue this conversation when respect is part of it.” (Sets a condition for communication.)
6. “I will not accept blame for things outside of my control.” (Protects from scapegoating.)
7. “That comment feels disrespectful, and I am stepping away.” (Protects your nervous system.)
8. “Silence or withdrawal will not pressure me to comply.” (Neutralizes the silent treatment.)
9. “No is a full sentence.” (Short, solid, and self-honoring.)
10. “I do not owe continued access to someone who does not treat me with care.” (Affirms your worth and boundaries.)
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