Tuesday, October 6, 2026
The phase of not quite knowing
There is a phase at the very beginning of the healing journey that rarely gets talked about. It comes before the word 'narcissist' feels like it fits, before you feel entitled to call what happened to you abuse. It is the phase of not quite knowing.
You may be replaying conversations at night, trying to work out where things went wrong. You may be collecting clues: a remark that didn't sit right, a story that changed in the retelling, the way you always seem to end up apologising. Part of you suspects the truth. Another part keeps asking: what if I'm the problem? What if I'm exaggerating?
If this is where you are, I want to say this first: the doubt is not a sign that you are wrong. It is often a sign of how long your perception has been questioned. When someone has spent years rewriting your reality, trusting your own reading of events does not come back overnight.
What you need in this phase is quite simple, even if it isn't easy to find. You need to understand what is happening. You need a grounded perspective from someone outside the situation. And you need practical guidance on what to do next.
Seek help, and choose where it comes from
In this phase, reaching out matters. That might mean finding a therapist. It might mean reading, listening and watching everything you can find on narcissistic abuse, simply so you can put words to what you have lived. Understanding is not a luxury here. It is the ground you will stand on for everything that follows.
But who you turn to matters just as much as the act of turning to someone. At this stage your sense of reality is still fragile. The right voice can help you steady it. The wrong one, however well-meaning, can knock it back down.
So whether you are choosing a therapist, a book, a podcast or a person to confide in, the question to ask is the same: does this person actually understand these dynamics?
Finding the right therapist
If you can, work with a therapist. I recommend it wholeheartedly. But be specific about what you look for: someone with real competence in narcissistic personality disorder, narcissistic abuse, and the complex trauma that so often follows it.
There are many skilled therapists out there, working in all sorts of ways. I believe every approach has its place, depending on where you are in your journey. A good therapist can be genuinely helpful for anxiety, low mood or self-esteem in general.
The problem is that narcissistic abuse has its own logic. Without understanding it, even a kind and capable therapist may:
- encourage you to "see both sides" or work on communication, as though this were an ordinary conflict between equals
- focus on your reactions without recognising what you were reacting to
- treat your doubt as the thing to fix, rather than as a consequence of what was done to you
In my experience, a therapist who doesn't understand these dynamics might help you with perhaps 20% of what you need. For the other 80%, they may gently steer you away from your actual healing goal, or postpone it.
When you contact a therapist, it is completely reasonable to ask directly: What experience do you have with narcissistic abuse and complex trauma? The way they answer will tell you a great deal.
Confiding in friends and family: two things to be aware of
It is natural to turn to the people closest to you first. Sometimes they are exactly the support you need. But there are two things worth knowing before you open up.
1. They may not understand
Many people have never come across narcissistic abuse, or only know the caricature. Without meaning to, they may minimise what you are telling them: Everyone argues. That's just how he is. Are you sure you're not reading too much into it?
They usually say these things in good faith. But good faith doesn't change the effect. At this stage, the last thing you need is someone else, once again, quietly denying your reality.
2. They may already have been influenced
This is the one I most want you not to underestimate.
Narcissists rarely manipulate only their main target. They often shape the perceptions of everyone around them, including people they gain nothing obvious from. This serves two purposes. It lets them be seen exactly the way they have chosen to be seen. And it makes the web around you thick enough that you struggle to get out.
Often, this means they have also shaped how others see you. They may have exaggerated certain traits of yours, or simply made things up, so that, little by little, people come to see you the way the narcissist wants you to be seen.
It can go either way. Some narcissists like to show off their partner or child when it wins them approval. Others paint them in a darker light: too sensitive, unstable, difficult. Whichever version serves them at the time is the one they tell.
So even friends, colleagues and relatives who treat you kindly and politely may have been conditioned to think almost anything about you. The moment you share your suspicions might be the very moment they suggest, more or less subtly, that you're probably misunderstanding something.
If that happens, it does not mean you are wrong. It may simply mean the narrative reached them before you did.
Protecting your clarity while it grows
None of this means you should isolate yourself or trust no one. It means being thoughtful about where you place your early, still-fragile understanding. A few things that can help:
- Start with informed sources. Look for therapists, writers and educators who specialise in narcissistic abuse and complex trauma, and let them be your first reference points.
- Notice how you feel after a conversation. Clearer and steadier, or more confused and doubting yourself? Your body often knows before your mind does.
- Write things down. Keep a private record of what happened and how it felt. It gives you something solid to return to when doubt creeps back in.
- Share gradually. With friends or family, you don't have to tell the whole story at once. Offer a little and see how it is received.
- Don't take one person's disbelief as the final word. Someone not understanding your experience does not make it any less real.
The beginning of this journey can feel like standing on shifting ground. With the right support around you, that ground slowly becomes firmer. And from there, you can begin the real work of finding your way back to yourself.
Saturday, July 25, 2026
Trigger Warning: This post contains explicit descriptions of controlling and abusive behavior that could be triggering to someone with a history of emotional abuse. Please proceed gently, and feel free to stop reading and take a few deep breaths whenever you need to.
If you've been wondering whether a relationship in your life has quietly become toxic or controlling, this self-test can help you start putting words to what you may already sense. It can apply to any relationship: a partner, a parent, a relative, a friend, a colleague—anyone.
Nobody decides, in a single moment, to lose themselves in a relationship. It happens through hundreds of small accommodations—biting your tongue once, changing a plan once, letting one comment slide—until none of it feels like a choice anymore, just how things are.
As you go through the questions below, I'd invite you to do something beyond just answering them in your head. Notice what happens in your body as you read each one—a tightening in your chest, a drop in your stomach, a breath you're holding without realizing it. These physical reactions often arrive before your mind has fully decided how to answer, and they are rarely wrong. If your body reacts to a question before your thoughts catch up, trust that reaction as real information, even if some part of you wants to reason it away.
Behavioral Control
- Do I feel that I have to stick to a certain way of behaving in order to please this person or receive their approval? (Or do I do this automatically now, without even realizing it?)
- Do I find myself anticipating what they would say or how they'd react to something I do or say, and adjust my behavior in advance to avoid trouble?
- Do I know all of their likes and dislikes, and tend to make choices about my own life based on what would please them?
- Do I keep my behavior and words in constant check to avoid insults, negative comments, or making them angry?
- Do I change my mind, my plans, or myself after they've made a negative comment about something?
- Do I struggle to make decisions—especially when I want to do something, but can already predict everything negative they'll say about it?
- Are they a person who simply doesn't take no for an answer?
Surveillance and Privacy
- Have I ever caught them looking through my private things—my phone, my files, my diary—or suspected they had, because something felt moved or out of place?
- Do I find myself hiding or keeping personal things out of sight, out of fear they'll go through them if given the chance?
- Do they ask me to account for how I spend my money, or make pointed comments about my spending habits?
- If we live together, when I bring up a boundary they've crossed—nudity around the house, not flushing the toilet, anything that makes me uncomfortable—do they respond with something like "I'm in my own house, I'll do as I please"?
- Do I feel like they watch me the way someone tracks a thing, rather than simply noticing me the way people naturally notice each other?
- Do they seem to know things about me that I never told them, or specifically tried to keep private?
Control Over Your Body and Image
- In an intimate or family setting, do they walk in on me while I'm undressed or in the bathroom without knocking, and stay rather than excusing themselves and leaving?
- Do they tell me how to dress, ask me to send photos to approve my outfit when we're apart, or make subtly cutting comments about my appearance that leave me feeling ashamed?
- Do they criticize my voice, the way I speak, my facial expressions, my gestures, or how I walk—or explicitly ask me to talk, move, or express myself differently than comes naturally to me?
- Do they decide what I should eat, and struggle to accept it when I want something different?
- Do they comment on how often I shower, wash my hair, or brush my teeth, in a way that carries an unspoken accusation?
- Do they comment on me not being masculine or feminine "enough," by their own standards?
Blame, Denial, and Invalidation
- When we disagree, do they go to great lengths to change my perspective, rather than simply accepting that we see things differently?
- When I tell them something they did or said genuinely hurt me, do they deny it happened ("that never happened," "I don't remember that") or shift the blame onto me ("if I did or said that, it's because you did or said something first")?
- During an argument, do they lean on our relationship label to justify their behavior—things like "I'm your husband, so I can say this to you," or "I'm your mother, so I can do this"?
- Do they call me "too sensitive" whenever I bring up something that hurt me, whether about them or about something else entirely?
- Do they suggest I'll regret leaving because "no one will ever love me the way they do," or "no one else could put up with someone like me"?
- Do they regularly point out my weaknesses—physical, intellectual, emotional, or otherwise—as a way of implying something is fundamentally lacking in me, even in situations that have nothing to do with it?
- Do they make recurring comments about me being "peculiar," or otherwise subtly strange?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may be in a toxic or controlling relationship or dynamic.
If part of your mind is already trying to talk you out of your own answers—I feel this, but maybe I'm wrong; maybe I'm overreacting—that instinct to downplay is worth noticing too. It is often self-gaslighting: the residue of real gaslighting you received, still running on its own. Notice, too, which questions your body reacted to before your mind even finished reading them. That reaction is not a misinterpretation on your part.
Several of these questions are also simply factual—about what someone did, not about how you felt about it. Those answers can't be explained away as your perception being "wrong." Looking through someone's phone without permission, denying something you both know happened, refusing to respect a boundary in your own shared home—these are behaviors, not feelings, and they are not healthy, regardless of how they're framed to you.
If this test brought up more questions than answers, two other pieces might help you go further: You're Not Imagining It, and You're Not Incapable walks through the subtler, harder-to-name forms gaslighting can take day to day, and The Throat Area in Dynamics of Oppression looks at how these dynamics settle into the body long after a relationship has changed or ended.
Sunday, July 12, 2026
"Environment is stronger than willpower." — Paramahansa Yogananda, The Essence of Self-Realization, Ch. 19
When I first read this quote by Paramahansa Yogananda—the swami from India who built one of the first lasting yoga institutions in the West, in the 1920s—I had to read it twice. I had been familiar with Yogananda's teachings for over a decade and was a regular practitioner of his meditation techniques. Yet, the statement felt bold, perhaps even contradictory to everything I had understood about willpower until that moment.
Yogic traditions tend to place immense importance on willpower. Yogananda himself long preached the necessity of developing and maintaining it. He taught: "Will is the switch that controls everything in this universe. If you don't exercise your willpower, you will be a weakling, easily influenced by your environment." Or: "If you cling to a certain thought with dynamic willpower, it finally assumes a tangible outward form... When you make up your mind to do good things, you will accomplish them if you use dynamic willpower to follow through. No matter what the circumstances are, if you go on trying, God will create the means by which your will shall find its proper reward."
But the contradiction dissolves the moment you read this quote in its full context. In The Essence of Self-Realization, Yogananda arrives at it through an image: a coat left in a smoke-filled room will carry that smell for a long time afterward, while one left out in a garden carries the fragrance of open air instead. Whatever we sit inside of, he suggests, we eventually absorb—whether we choose to or not. He goes on to say that mixing with a worldly, negative environment without taking on any of that worldliness "requires great spiritual strength" (Ch. 19, p. 182)—a strength so rare that he counsels seeking good company rather than relying on it. "Be always with people who inspire you," as he put it elsewhere, "surround yourself with people who lift you up."
Strip away the specifically monastic framing—the talk of "beginners on the spiritual path" and "devotees"—and what's left is a broader, sturdier truth: none of us, however disciplined, is exempt from what we're steeped in. A nervous system asked to sit for years inside an environment built on accusations, subtle insults, and gaslighting will carry that residue, the same way the coat carries smoke. That isn't a failure of will. It's simply what environments do. The truest exercise of "dynamic willpower," then, isn't gritting your teeth inside a hostile one—it's the will to change what you're sitting inside of in the first place.
Why am I discussing this on a blog about recovery from emotional abuse?
Because we often downplay the necessity of going 'no-contact' with an abuser. We convince ourselves that with enough determination, we can manage the relationship and keep it at least satisfactory. Even when we realise that no-contact is the ideal, we are often forced into scenarios where it is simply not feasible. In those moments of 'minimal-contact,' we fall into the trap of believing that it is possible to maintain a yogic-like calm indefinitely. We think that if we just apply enough discipline, we can withstand their continuous accusations, subtle insults, and gaslighting for long periods of time, purely through the strength of our own will.
Personally, I have been guilty of this. I used to assume that if I lost my center after three weeks of continuous, malicious hints—during periods where I couldn't avoid close contact—it must have been a personal failing. I blamed myself for not being "spiritually advanced" enough to act as a detached yogini, possessing perfect self-mastery.
It would be easy to read those three weeks as proof that I simply needed a stronger will—that with more discipline, I could have lasted a fourth week, or a fifth. But that reading misunderstands what was actually being asked of me. Yogananda himself acknowledged that resisting immersion in negativity without being changed by it calls for an exceptional spiritual strength, one that even sincere practitioners may not carry in every season of their life. My three weeks weren't a measurement of a weak will. They were proof that I was asking an ordinary tool to perform an extraordinary task it was never suited for.
But this self-blame is simply the final layer of the abuse. That 'not being enough'—not calm enough, not evolved enough—is a narrative carefully embedded in my psyche over years of manipulation. By framing my struggle as a lack of spiritual mastery, I was merely continuing the abuser's work of making me the architect of my own suffering.
I was missing the fundamental truth in Yogananda's other assertion: Environment is stronger than willpower.
When you are submerged in an environment of toxicity, you are not failing because you lack will; you are failing because you are a human being trying to remain whole in an environment designed to dismantle you.
We can finally release the weight of blaming our own willpower for the toll that a toxic environment takes on our nervous system. There is no 'weakness' in needing to remove yourself from the source of your pain; true self-mastery begins the moment you realise that your environment is the foundation of your growth.
For those of you who, right now, cannot step fully into no-contact—shared children, family ties, a workplace you can't yet leave—this teaching still has something to offer you. If you cannot always change the room you're standing in, you can still guard what you allow entry into your inner one: the boundaries you hold, the support you lean on, the moments you protect as fiercely as your own breath. It isn't the ideal environment. But it is still an act of tending your environment, at whatever scale is available to you right now—and that, too, is dynamic willpower at work.
Healing isn't about becoming so 'spiritually advanced' that you can withstand toxicity without a scratch—it is about having the grace to step away from the fire, so you no longer have to burn. You deserve a foundation that allows you to finally be whole.
Thursday, July 9, 2026
Trigger Warning: This post contains information that could be triggering to someone with a history of emotional abuse. Please proceed cautiously and feel free to stop reading and take a few deep breaths if any of this feels like too much.
Gaslighting is widely recognised as one of the ever-present manipulation techniques employed by manipulators and emotional exploiters. It is generally understood as a form of psychological manipulation that makes you question your own reality, memory, sanity, or competence. Among the most common examples are people insisting you invented something, claiming an event never happened, or denying they ever said a particular phrase. It also includes making you doubt your own feelings (I would bet that anyone who has dealt with this kind of person has been called "too sensitive" more than once).
The textbook examples of gaslighting involve confronting the abuser about their behavior, only to have them deny reality and potentially reverse the attack. For example, if you point out that they yelled at you, they might calmly respond, "I never raised my voice, you are the one who is shouting." (I once heard a psychologist say that if you ever find yourself wishing you could record every conversation you have with someone, it is a strong indicator that you are dealing with a manipulator.)
However, there are also more subtle instances of gaslighting—ones that don't unfold as an outright argument over what happened, but as something stranger: an exchange you live through and, at the time, accept as ordinary. This is one of the disorienting realities of narcissistic abuse—while you are inside it, these moments don't register as dysfunctional at all. They simply become "how things are." It is only once you have stepped back emotionally—which, more often than not, means you have stepped back physically as well—that you can look at these same exchanges and finally see them for what they are. This is also why these instances can resurface during periods of minimal contact: by the time you're forced into occasional contact with the person again, you have usually already gained the emotional distance needed to notice what you couldn't see before.
I will provide a few examples of these sneaky instances, all based on true stories. Surely, little by little, you will be able to recognise the unique ones that are played, or have been played, in your relationship.
Example 1: The "Invisible" Reality
You spot a small spider and, because you are afraid, you ask the person to get rid of it. They start by saying it isn't true; that you always "see insects around even if they are not there" (implying you are insane and hallucinating). Then, you point at the insect from a distance. They say they don't see it. You get closer and continue to point. "See?" you say. "It's right there." "I can't see it," they respond very calmly. You get even closer and point again. They look at you with a raised eyebrow and say, "I am sorry, maybe it's just me having some eyesight problems. But I really can't see it." In the meantime, that spider is merrily continuing to create its web.
The Dynamic: By denying the existence of something right in front of your eyes, they force you into a state of sensory confusion. It makes you question if your eyes—or your brain—are functioning correctly. This creates a foundation where they become the "source of truth" while you are left feeling untrustworthy and unhinged.
Example 2: Creating Deliberate Confusion
You ask a question, and they answer a completely different one. When you point out that they are not giving the information you requested, they raise their voice, continue to shout the wrong answer, or throw a tantrum.
Scenario 1: You are planning to go somewhere new and have a doubt about the route. Before leaving, you ask, "After the first roundabout, should I turn right or stay on the main road?" They reply, "No, you turn left at the oil station." You realize they have a different route in mind, but that won't work for you because you need to make a stop along the way. You calmly ask again, "In the route with the roundabout, what should I do? Should I turn right or keep on the main road?" Instead of answering, they lose their temper and yell that they have already told you to turn left at the oil station.
Scenario 2: You are about to head out, and the other person says, "Remember to take the car keys." You say, "OK," and then casually ask, "Do you think we should also bring the reusable shopping bags, in case we stop at the supermarket?" They respond, seemingly to your question: "I already told you, they're on the shelf by the front door." You pause—the shelf by the front door is where the keys are, not the bags. You clarify: "I'm asking about the bags, not the keys." They raise their voice: "I heard you. I said they're on the shelf." The conversation now revolves entirely around defending which object was being discussed, and your simple, practical suggestion about the bags is left unanswered—and, eventually, forgotten.
The Dynamic: The goal is not simply to avoid your question, but to make you feel that your need for clarity is the problem. By answering a completely different question or intentionally misinterpreting you, the other person manufactures chaos. When you try to steer the conversation back to the actual topic, they escalate to force you to drop it. This leaves you feeling frustrated, silenced, and—most importantly—confused.
Example 3: The Erasure of Shared Reality
They ask you to prepare a coffee. Since the machine hasn't been used for some time, they ask you to discard the first two cups and give them the third. You do as requested. They are in the room right in front of the kitchen, and because the coffee machine makes quite a bit of noise, you assume they heard you making coffee three times. When you kindly bring them the coffee, they raise their voice in frustration: "Did you actually throw away the first two coffees? I told you to only give me the third!" When you ask, "Didn't you hear me make three coffees on a loud machine five meters away?" they reply with the same seraphic tone they used when claiming not to see a black spider on a white wall right under their nose: "No, really, I didn't hear any noise."
The Dynamic: This is a denial of shared sensory experience. By ignoring obvious, audible evidence, the abuser forces you to defend your reality. When they refuse to acknowledge what just happened, you begin to doubt your own perception. It makes you question if you are truly "too sensitive" or "hallucinating," creating an agonising cognitive dissonance between what you know to be true and the version of reality they demand you accept.
Example 4: The Preemptive Accusation of Incompetence
They repeat an instruction multiple times as if one time were not enough for you to understand. For instance, just as with the car keys, they might tell you to take the keys three or four times before leaving the house, even if they have clearly heard the sound of you picking them up or even watched you do it while standing directly in front of you.
The Dynamic: This acts as a subtle, constant belittlement. By acting as though you lack the basic cognitive ability to follow a single instruction, they slowly dismantle your self-esteem. It forces you to accept the role of someone who is "forgetful" or "incapable," which makes it easier for them to control or override your future actions.Example 5: False Attribution of Incompetence
Example 5: False Attribution of Incompetence
You are parking the car, but you suddenly notice a new leaflet hung on the outside wall near the parking spot. You stop to read it, thinking it might warn you not to park there. The abuser says, "It's just a reminder for people to collect their dog's waste," and then they quickly shout, "Why are you parking so far from the sidewalk? Can't you just park the right way?" Of course, you had simply stopped the parking maneuver midway to read the leaflet; you weren't actually parked.
The Dynamic: This is contextual manipulation and mischaracterisation. By deliberately ignoring the context of your behavior—that you were mid-action, not finished parking—the abuser reframes your actions as incompetence. You find yourself spending your energy defending your basic competence, and eventually, you may stop questioning the "rules" of the environment entirely, assuming, little by little, that the constant complaints about your behaviour must be grounded in some actual fault of yours.
Seeing these patterns for what they are—calculated maneuvers rather than personal failings—is the first step toward regaining your clarity. Once you can label the behaviour as it is happening, you strip it of its power to make you doubt your own mind.
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