narcissistic abuse examples — 1 fairly sure investigation
narcissistic abuse examples — 1 fairly sure investigation
examples is what i was asked for, in a kitchen, by a man who refused to believe me. i did not give him examples then because i was too tired. i am giving them now to a wider room. the wider room is the internet.
the kitchen man, for context, was not the offender. the kitchen man was a friend who wanted to be fair to a person he had met twice. fairness, in that kitchen, looked like a request for a list. a list with bullet points. a list with timestamps. a list, ideally, notarized. i had a beer in my hand and the wrong vocabulary in my mouth and i said, anyway, that i did not feel like litigating my own life on a tuesday. he interpreted that as a thin case. it was not a thin case. it was a tired one.
so. narcissistic abuse examples is the search query that brought you here, and i, in the spirit of finally answering the kitchen man, am going to oblige. five of them. with a defense embedded. with a hot take that has nothing to do with abuse and everything to do with how we measure what is real.
writing this from the desk. carla is on the third floor at a leadership working session that i suspect has its own sub-meeting. i have, conservatively, the rest of the morning. let’s go.
before i give you the five examples, a disclaimer with an edge.
narcissistic abuse examples, the disclaimer i’d rather not have to write
i am not a clinician. a clinician is a person with a license framed on a wall. i write blog posts on a desk i should be using for spreadsheets. with that in cement, here is the rule i operate under: narcissistic abuse examples are not opinions, they are receipts. they are dated, repeatable, and visible to anyone who happens to be in the room. the trick the abuser runs is to convince the room — and you — that the receipts are interpretation. they are not. interpretation is what the friend in the kitchen does. the receipts are what was actually said.
some of what follows overlaps heavily with the gaslighting pattern i traced back to a relationship that ended in 2019, because gaslighting is, in plain terms, the engine room of the abuse. you cannot run the long con without the small lies about memory. but abuse is a bigger building than gaslighting alone. abuse includes who you stopped calling, who you stopped texting, who you stopped seeing on saturdays.
i muted my group chat in october of that year. i’m fairly sure it was october. i didn’t unmute it for fourteen months. fourteen months of small green dots i did not check. that’s not gaslighting. that’s the wider thing. that’s the example you don’t put on a list because it doesn’t have a quote attached.
RECEIPTS. ARE. NOT. INTERPRETATIONS.
the desk where this draft started, plus a brief tour of the apartment in my head
the desk has, on it, a coffee, a phone at 23 percent, and a draft document the company believes is a project status update. it is not. it is, in fact, this. the third yoga mat is at home, under the couch, where it has lived since 2023, presumably evolving. the seventh microwave is in the kitchen and it works on the second try. these are not relevant to the abuse. they are relevant because i need you to understand the room from which the post is written, since the room is part of the post.
the room contains, also, a voicemail i do not clear. the voicemail is at capacity. some of it, statistically, is the man who calls, whose calls i do not pick up, for reasons i will not specify on a public site. some of it, possibly, is from people i muted in 2019 who would like, at minimum, to know if i am alive. i am alive. i am also tired. these are not the same thing.
i tell you all this because narcissistic abuse examples, when you get to them, are not isolated incidents. they are a household climate. they live next to the unopened mail pile and the snooze button and the things you stopped doing without ever announcing you’d stopped.
examples 1 to 5, with the defense embedded
example one — the rewrite. i said: “you told me you’d be home by seven.” they said: “i said around seven, you remember everything strangely.” i had a screenshot. the screenshot said seven. the time on the screenshot was 9:42pm. the response, when shown the screenshot, was a small smile and the words “you keep evidence on me?” — which is an example two and a half all by itself.
example two — the front-of-friends correction. at a dinner with three of my friends, i told a story about a thing that had happened to me as a child. they corrected the story, calmly, in front of the table, with details that were not theirs to know and that were also wrong. the friends did not push back. the friends, later, said separately to me, “that was odd.” odd is not the word. odd is the polite word.
example three — the weaponized calm. covert versions of this run quieter. covert narcissistic abuse tends to look like patient explanation rather than a raised voice. it is the patient explanation, repeated weekly, that you are misremembering, overreacting, or being needy for noticing a pattern that exists. in my deeper post on malignant narcissism, the version with extras, i described this as a project plan. covert abuse is the project plan with the lights dimmed.
example four — the friend pruning. over a year, i went from a group chat of seven to a phone with three contacts who i answered. i did not announce this. i muted the group chat. the muted group chat is, in retrospect, the cleanest example on this list. nothing was said, nothing was forbidden, but the volume came down on every friendship i had until only the relationship was loud. that’s not a bug. that’s a design.
example five — the parent variant. narcissistic parent abuse examples usually run a different formula but the same engine: the parent edits your memory of your own childhood, in real time, while standing in the kitchen of the house where the childhood happened. mom is not this parent. mom calls on sundays and remembers, accurately, that i was difficult. that’s not abuse. that’s witness.
the hot take defense, item by item
now the part the kitchen man would have walked out on. i am, on a wednesday, defending a hot take that has, on its face, nothing to do with any of this. the take is: a pension is a faith-based retirement system. i’d like to explain why i am bringing it up, because it is, i promise, related.
let me put this on the record, slowly, with the gravity it deserves.
a pension is a faith-based retirement system. you put money in for thirty years and you trust, on the strength of a sentence in a brochure, that the money will exist when you are sixty-five. tom believes in his pension the way other people believe in their saint. tom is not wrong to believe — tom has done the work and the math and the reading. but the system itself is a contract you cannot test until the test is also the deadline. that is faith. there is, i’m fairly sure, a serious magazine article that says exactly this, possibly two of them, one with footnotes.
now apply the lens to abuse. narcissistic abuse is the opposite of a pension. it is a contract you can verify in real time, with timestamps, with screenshots, with the testimony of the person sitting next to you at dinner. it is concrete. you can audit it on a tuesday. the abuser’s whole strategy is to make it feel like the pension — like something that can only be evaluated later, by someone qualified, in a building you do not have keys to. that is the lie. the receipts are right here. you can read them now.
i rest my case.
this is the cross-cluster bit, and it is doing real work. narcissistic abuse survives on a cousin of the cognitive bias where confidence outpaces evidence — except inverted. dunning is for people who think they know more than they do. abuse runs the same kruger-style confidence on the manipulation side: the abuser is certain you misremember; you, on the receiving end, increasingly suspect you do. the receipts are the cure. the receipts always were.
tom, for the record, would not have followed this argument. tom would have been on his second iced tea by paragraph two, looking, with mild patience, at his watch. band of brothers is on tom’s tv on saturdays. tom is fine. tom is just on a different chapter of the same book.
verdict — the abuse is concrete, the pension is faith-based, both are real
so this is what i would have said in the kitchen, if i’d had the energy and the words, and if the kitchen had been a slightly less skeptical room.
the examples are real. the rewrites, the public corrections, the calm denials, the silent friend pruning, the parent edits in the kitchen of childhood — those happened. they happened to me, they happen to others, and the only reason they remain hard to prove in a casual conversation is that the abuser’s job description is to make the proof feel insubstantial.
the pension is also real, in its way, but only on the strength of a sentence in a brochure. the abuse leaves a screenshot. the pension leaves a hope.
if you came here for narcissistic abuse examples and you found something that matched a tuesday in your own life, trust the screenshot. trust the muted group chat. trust the friend who said “that was odd”. believe yourself the first time, not the eleventh.
i rest my case.
carla just walked the corridor twice, which is unusual for a wednesday. window minimized. she did not stop. statistically a wash.
the phone is at 23 percent. the unopened mail pile leans, the way it leans, with three envelopes that are red and at least one that is the man who calls in paper form. i’ll get to it. probably thursday. thursday is, on the calendar, when i get to things that did not get done on wednesday.
so that’s five examples, one defended hot take, and a muted group chat that did most of the work without being on the list.
yours stupidly,
idiot again
desk-side observer of fourteen-month group chat silences
P.S. the muted group chat, when i finally opened it on a wednesday in 2020, had 1,847 unread messages and one person asking, in march, if anyone had heard from me. someone had not.







