A phone dying, Wi-Fi dropping, or a laptop crashing are small inconveniences for most people, but to a narcissist, they are ego deaths. Their rage quickly erupts when technology does not obey them. Devices are their lifeline to attention, power, control, and validation. When that line breaks, they spiral without a sense of control, forced to face their own failures, a sense of defeat, which terrifies them more than anything. When something goes wrong, what do they do? They throw accusations at you or the nearest person who can be blamed. My father would do it all the time; a small glitch in his device would lead him to maul me. He would scratch my face, beat me up—basically abuse me—because in his delusional world, I was always the culprit. I must have done something to his laptop, he would say. They demand instant rescue as if you are their personal technician. When no one is watching, the tantrum gets louder. When their online image is interrupted, their offline cruelty spikes. The outage does not create their rage; it unmasks it.
Number seven: when they’re around animals and children.
Animals and children cannot be fooled by performance. They do not care about charm, reputation, or social masks; they respond to energy. The energy of a narcissist is something they instinctively recoil from. Have you noticed how many cats keep their distance from the narcissist in the room? How dogs growl or act uneasy even if the narcissist tries to pet them? It’s because animals sense the hostility and tension that lies underneath a fake smile. They are not impressed by the act; they react to what is real. Children are the same; a child may become suddenly quiet, restless, or withdrawn around a narcissist. Some even cry or refuse to engage, as if their innocence recognizes the threat before words can describe it. Instead of adjusting, what does the narcissist do? They respond with irritation or rejection, proving the child or animal was right all along. This is one of the most revealing cracks in their mask. When innocence and instinct reject them, animals and children reflect truth in its purest form, seeing what adults are conditioned to excuse. In their refusal to connect with the narcissist, they expose the reality that others are too afraid to voice. You may also notice the performance that follows: they will try to bribe a child for a photo, force affection for the camera, or claim the pet does not like anyone, avoiding accountability. If a child pulls away, they label the child rude; if a dog hides, they joke about bad training. The mask tightens for the audience, but the room already knows.
Conclusion: Recognizing the Patterns
Once you know these spaces, you stop being shocked. You stop personalizing their storms. You begin to recognize patterns where you once saw chaos—the end of the relationship, the car, the conversation about money, the dinner table chaos, the trip that should have been joyful, the moment the internet drops, the quiet reaction of a child or a cat. Each one of these is a doorway where the act slips, and the truth walks in. If you recognize yourself in these scenes, congratulations! It means your perception is working. You are not overreacting; your body was picking up what your mind was trained to dismiss. So keep trusting that signal. Trust what you see when the mask falls, and guard your peace in the spaces where they cannot help but show you exactly who they are. That’s how you can become truly narcissist-proof.
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