Narcissists only identify with their false image and they expect you to identify with the false image they invent of you. They NEED you to appear to the world the way they NEED you to be. It’s your life according to the narcissist’s script.
Every single action employed by the Narcissist stems from a pathological need to control others. In order to prove your love to a Narcissist, you must surrender all power and control to them and become a real-life Marionette, whose only purpose is to enhance the Narcissist’s false image, take care of their every need, and accept their self-serving abuse. The Narcissist has no real identity, only an illusion of themselves built on their ability to control other people. When they lose said control, this illusion is shattered.
After angering Ben over the other “n-word,” he totally vanished from my life, or at least my awareness of him being in my life. I had no clue what I’d done to warrant being discarded like this, nor did I have any clue about what was in store for me ahead. I assumed Ben had to be a narcissist given the word upset him so much — but compared to his mistreatment, I couldn’t fathom how he justified his anger given how he’d abused me. I tried repeatedly to reach him by phone and by email without any luck; for some strange reason, I still felt this strange connection to Ben despite how terrible he made me feel. I missed the first few months I had with him, I’d never felt so at home with any guy in my entire life — how I’d lost him, and how Ben lost himself in this transformation from “soul mate” to sadistic, remained a mystery to me. What also made no sense to me was why that one word – narcissist – made Ben go ballistic; was he blind to reality? Couldn’t he see how he treated me horribly and that one word didn’t come close to the months of mistreatment he dished out on me?
During the next few months, a few events took place that I thought were totally random. I don’t think they’re random any longer, in fact, I’m certain they’re not, these represented the start of Ben’s smear campaign against, and his relentless need to play God with every aspect of my life; better said, Ben had a relentless need to play Satan with y life, ensuring that as many days ended with rain as possible. Ben pulled this off on the sly, I never once considered he had any association with any of this.
There is no greater narcissistic injury than being exposed for the phony he or she really is. To lose the hold of the False Self, and have his mask ripped down exposing the true distorted, horrific shameful personality is akin to emotional annihilation for an individual with narcissistic personality disorder. He or she will react with incredible vengeance, retaliation and maliciousness. The narcissistic personality may stop at nothing to exact punishment, which includes but is not limited to the destruction of a person’s reputation with vicious smear campaigns, using any pathological and even criminal method to destroy the person’s life and the narcissist will cause mayhem and havoc to any other person who just happens to get in the way.
I’d been working as a Registered Nurse for the Department of Health and Human services going on 10 years, and I’d been in need of a change in scenery. Working in HIV was starting to take its toll on me given I wasn’t remotely beginning to cope with my HIV diagnosis effectively. HIV was now my mind 24-7, and having to see the worst AIDS cases daily at work wasn’t helping me see anything but illness and death in my future; I was in need of a change.
The Food and Drug Administration (FDA), located nearby, was rumored to be the land of milk and honey: they had very flexible hours, you could work from home, it seemed like the ideal place to continue on with my career.
But getting hired by the FDA — having the reputation for being one of the best government agency employers — was difficult to say the least. People said the only way to get in was by knowing someone there, a friend or former colleague, someone who could put in a good word for you and talk their superiors into bringing you aboard. And I had just that: a former co-worker had transferred to the FDA a few years back, she’d kept in touch, and she wanted to bring me over. I applied online, I was called to for an interview, and — I was offered the position. Despite all the bad luck I’d just experienced in my life, finally there was some bright news on the horizon, a change in scenery.
For narcissists it’s all about power and control. Malignant narcissists are the most dangerous as they are predators who hunt their prey. They are able to violate the rights of others because they are incapable of feeling empathy. Viewing others as mere objects , as puppets, while they are masters of their own mind games is sickening yet it’s the only way they know to exist. They will cross the line into physical and sexual violence when they know they can get away with it, and feel that they are always above the law. Rules don’t apply to them is there motto.
When I called to follow up, the individual I spoke to said she found no record of me in their system. No record of me at all, despite them offering me the job? How can that happen? Everything had been submitted electronically, they’d issued the offer to me electronically, and when using computers there’s always an electronic trail left behind. Plus the FDA was under the same umbrella as my current employer, The Department of Health and Human Services. How could this computer system find no record of me? This was a transfer, also, not a new hire who had no history of working with the government. I spoke with HR several times, but no luck; I spoke to my friend, who ultimately told me:
Somehow they lost your packet. I’m really sorry, I don’t know what happened or how to explain it.
Disappointed I carried on with my life.
One morning I got word that John had been arrested for dealing drugs. I knew he dabbled in all things considered bad, but he’d never told me he was the master-mind behind a major drug operation. Apparently, he had people running drugs for him as well as drug connections throughout the country. On a few occasions, he’d asked me to feed his cat, Tom, when he left town. I always thought he was visiting his dysfunctional family in Florida, but come to find out, he was making trips across the country to secure contraband. I was shocked to hear the news; I was sad, and I was disappointed in him for making such a stupid choice. I was even more surprised when he called me from jail one day, asking me to bail him out; I was honest in my response:
I don’t have that kind of money.
John proceeded to tell me something that left me wanting to hang up, knowing he was in jail on a recorded line:
I have a storage unit that nobody knows about. There’s a safe inside; write down the address and the safe code, write these down quickly — please go and get the money for my bail, I need you to do this for me.
Was John still high on drugs inside jail? Was he crazy, was he off his rocker? What in the hell was was he thinking, calling me from jail, asking me to involve myself in a highly illegal matter that I wasn’t involved in to begin with? I didn’t entertain the thought; this was beyond bizarre and haphazard… why would he be so foolish and selfish to think I’d risk my own life to assist him in something I played no part in, something I’d have never supported? Making this request on a recorded line from prison — was he out of his mind?
Or did someone put him up to this perhaps? Needless to say, I didn’t follow through with nor even consider John’s request. Weeks later, John called me again, almost screaming:
The guys that arrested me are obsessed with arresting you! I have no idea why, but they’re more interested in you than me. I’m worried they’re coming for you!
I hung up the phone immediately; I wanted nothing to do with this nonsense he’d gotten himself into, nothing at all. Those conversations alone seemed to bring me into something he’d never disclosed before.
Flying monkeys is a phrase used in popular psychology mainly in the context of narcissistic abuse. They are people who act on behalf of a narcissist to a third party, usually for an abusive purpose. Abuse by proxy (or proxy abuse) is a synonymous concept. The flying monkey does the narcissist’s bidding to inflict additional torment to the target. It may consist of spying, spreading gossip, threatening, painting the narcissist as the victim (victim playing) and the target as the perpetrator (victim blaming). Despite this, the narcissist does not hesitate to make flying monkeys his or her scapegoats when and if needed. The flying monkeys may make it seem like the narcissist is not really involved. They are likely to have no idea that they are being used. Multiple flying monkeys are likely to act as a mobbing force against a victim. The motives behind the narcissist’s support group can be multiple. Service providers may be seduced by the narcissist’s charm into taking a one-sided perspective.
And why would the police have any interest in me? I was the “don’t ask, don’t tell” friend that John left in the dark about this crap, clearly they’d been listening to his phone, tracking his movements, they had to be aware of his drug conspirators and associates — and they had to know for certain I wasn’t one of them. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced he was paranoid and having a nervous breakdown in jail. I wasn’t worried, that is, until one day I received a call from the Arlington County Police Detective who helped secure his arrest:
Hi Alex, I’m XXX from Axxxxx County Police, I support a DEA Task Force in Northern Virginia, I was behind John’s arrest. I bet you’ve been expecting my call for some time, no?
Ummm… no, I hadn’t been waiting for any call about John, not once did the thought pop into my mind. The agent went on to say he was questioning those that knew John, and insisted I come in for questioning.
He threatened to come to my job if I refused. I had nothing to hide, although in hindsight, I should have never spoken to them without an attorney present. But hind-site’s always 20/20, and I foolishly went, fearful that they’d show up at work, causing a massive commotion, and ruining my image.
I went and met him and another agent in van in Northern Virginia. I answered their questions honestly, and to the best of my ability; I knew very little about John’s extracurricular business, and I didn’t think I was much help. I assumed they’d tapped his phone and heard our conversations, so they’d have known I wasn’t someone of interest. I concluded that it was just one more bizarre, uncomfortable and totally random event in my recently chaotic life that was riddled with bad luck.
But I never heard of anyone else being contacted but me, and people talk in gay, DC. Plus John had lots of acquaintances, not to mention he employed several drug-runners who I’d have thought would be of interest as opposed to me. Nobody was contacted, to my knowledge, not even his boyfriend. It also seemed so bizarre and random that I got that call in the first place.
Before leaving the van, the one agent made an odd remark that, at the time, carried little weight:
Alex, stay off of those gay apps and sites, like Grindr and adam4adam.com. They’ll lead you into trouble down the road.
He glanced at the other agent, chuckling a bit. I thought this was odd, but didn’t give it much thought.
And so I left that day thinking I’d never see them again. But like everything else in this debacle, I’d come to see them many times, I’d come to have their numbers saved in my phone even. And their warning about those gay apps and sites I’ve come to believe was their way of foreshadowing what lie ahead in my future: Ben’s smear campaign waged against me using abuse by proxy, with these agents being his flying monkey. This smear campaign would involve invasive and personalized cyber-stalking and harassment on these same gay apps and sites, stalking and harassment that would terrorize me into developing PTSD, losing my job and nearly my mind.
Shortly after this experience, while it didn’t jump out as nefarious but rather just as unkind, my online gay environment began to change. There were a lot of profiles advertising drugs and constantly bugging me about them, trying to engage me in conversation about them, as well. I also noticed that nearly every single profile was already on PrEP — which wasn’t consistent with the what I’d read about the number of prescriptions issued across the country. I assumed D.C. must be so progressive, that everyone jumped on the PrEP boat immediately, leaving me as the last, lowly fool to contract HIV. I had no animosity towards those on PrEP but seeing the mountains of guys that managed to luck out whereas I’d missed the ship by seconds, it constantly reminded me of my terrible luck.
This stalking and harassment would also lead me to read about a phenomenon based on the the narcissist’s smear campaign by proxy abuse, a phenomenon that’s proven to exist yet our own government refuses to acknowledge. It’s a phenomenon you won’t read about in any major news media outlet, it’s rumored to be carried out by corrupt individuals in law enforcement, individuals working in our nations’ defense industry, with its footwork being carried out by a secret, hidden, network of confidential informants. It’s a crime against humanity, it’s an atrocious human rights violation, it’s a form of psychological warfare waged on someone who’s deemed an “enemy of the state” by some jerk working in law enforcement or national defense. It’s referred to as “organized stalking,” “gang stalking,” or “government-sponsored stalking.”
It’s similar to programs using unlawful surveillance, set-ups and framings, character assassination, and even experimenting on American citizens with military weapons and mind-control tactics, innocent people who’ve never consented to being Guinea pigs and ended up killed or disabled by those supposedly protecting us. Martin Luther King was even targeted by COINTELPRO, and in modern day it was rumored that a COINTELPRO-like program had again resurfaced. Whatever you want to call it, it’s a complete violation of one’s rights, it’s akin to the American Holocaust, and it’s rumored that once you’re placed on this list of “dissidents,” you’re stuck there until you die, which is intended to arrive on the early side due to the physical and psychological torture it’s victims are forced to endure.
It would be several years later that I discovered Ben wasn’t who he portrayed himself to be, as the innocent, truck driver who was so humble about his skills. I’d find out he knew quite a lot about IT, computer programming, cloning and hacking phones, and even had blogs published on the web to instruct others.
Around that time using his parents connections likely, he had me placed under some sort of unlawful surveillance and cell phone syping, too. His parents happened to work on the largest computer network in the world – DISA – and with satellites, spying and telecom through the Air Force.
What was more shocking than anything was finding out that his mom, using a maiden name, donated funds towards a chair lift donation in the detective’s home for his ailing wife. I don’t know if this means Ben was already friends with the detective, his mom doing a favor for his friend in need; or if this represents some sort of hit on my life, like she’d bribed the detective to off me.
I never knew if Mohammad had stumbled upon something factual or how it could be proven. But in reading his email 6 months later that states he’s been blacklisted in Egypt, I think it’s safe to say it was true, and him bringing this to my attention cost him the ability to work. I feel beyond guilty for this, but these discoveries wouldn’t take place for at least 3 more years… despite it’s wheels being set in motion way back then. And so my life was completely high jacked by Ben and Company, with the sole intention being to gaslight me into complete insanity, to desensitize me with fake drug-pushing problems, to corrupt me, to isolate and cock-block me, and to encourage me to become a bad seed and take my own life once my world came shattering down on me.
All piano songs composed and performed by me.