That’s the darkness beneath the charm: the quiet, relentless violation of your trust until your world no longer feels like yours. There’s another layer to madness, one that reaches beyond your drawers, your phone, or your walls. The narcissist doesn’t just invade your space; they track your steps like a shadow that refuses to leave the light.
The narcissist wants to know where you are every moment, every mile. Trackers—tiny devices hidden in cars, tucked into bags, slipped under seats—all serve one purpose: control. To the narcissist, it’s not about love or care; it’s about surveillance. The narcissist can’t rest without knowing where you’ve been. If paranoia had a heartbeat, it would sound like the narcissist checking an app to see your location.
Sometimes it’s jealousy—the fear that you’re doing what the narcissist is already doing. Sometimes it’s logistics, ensuring there’s enough time to sweep away another supply before you return home. Imagine that—a tracker, not for protection, but to cover deceit. The narcissist installs it to keep the illusion alive, juggling lies with precision.
And it doesn’t stop with devices. Many have found spyware quietly woven into their phones, laptops, and very means of connection. It starts small—a glitch here, a lag there—until you realize the narcissist might be listening, watching, stealing. They’re not just after your attention; they’re after your information: bank accounts, messages, browsing history. Nothing is sacred when control is the goal.
That’s why the first thing you must do after walking away is to check everything. Take your phone to a professional, scan your computer for malware, change your passwords—your devices, your peace. Because a narcissist doesn’t respect boundaries. They hunt for cracks in your defenses.
Now, hear this clearly: not everyone who uses a tracker or hires someone to investigate is a narcissist. Intent matters. Some victims lost in confusion and lies reach for the truth in any way they can. When the narcissist has gaslit you so deeply that reality itself bends, it’s not obsession to search for answers; it’s survival.
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