There are wars that happen out loud — and then there are the ones that unfold silently, day after day, behind office walls and artificial smiles. I’ve been walking through the latter. A spiritual, psychological, and emotional battleground disguised as a professional environment. The front lines? A workplace filled with covert narcissists, performative kindness, triangulated relationships, gaslighting, and people who call themselves Christians — yet embody anything but Christ-like character.

From the moment I arrived, I knew. Not by sight, but by discernment.

I don’t work for these people. I was assigned to work with them, placed there by the private company I’m contracted through. They work for the state. I work for a federal component. And though I’m technically not under their authority, I’ve become the target of an intricate web of control, intimidation, and spiritual hostility — one that’s tried to isolate, monitor, and wear me down.

But here’s the truth: they know who I am. Even if they pretend not to.

The Seer in the System

From day one, I saw the dysfunction. I asked questions others were too afraid to ask. I spotted inefficiencies, exposed cracks in communication, and challenged outdated systems — not for attention, but out of a deep-rooted need for order. I wasn’t loud. I wasn’t confrontational. I simply carried clarity — and in spaces built on chaos and control, clarity is a threat.

It became obvious that my presence disrupted the comfortable dysfunction.

They were used to silence. I brought truth.
They were used to conformity. I brought solutions.
They were used to playing roles. I showed up as myself.

The Narcissistic Ecosystem

The ringleader — who I’ve come to refer to in my blog as Negative Nag — is a master manipulator. She weaponizes religious language while carrying a spirit of superiority. Her glares are sharp, her energy is hostile, and her pleasant moments are performative at best. She’s recruited others into her orbit — flying monkeys whose roles are to monitor, provoke, and isolate.

There’s:

The Friend of Nag: The ever-listening informant, stationed a few cubicles behind me, piecing together conversations and baiting me into giving up personal details. He’s the buzzing gnat — always present, always too close.
The Triangulated Flying Monkey: Someone I initially respected, but who subtly tries to gauge my moods, assess my actions, and claim neutral spaces like conference rooms and parking spots, just to steal moments of peace from me.
The Lunch Lady: Once a lunch companion, now clearly aligned with the opposition. I opened up once, cautiously, and now I’m glad I kept it brief. Her alliances speak louder than her lunch invitations.
The Rep: Friendly on the surface, but too connected to the inner circle. She too has asked me about “how I feel” regarding the environment, but my spirit told me to stay silent. I’m so glad I did.

Together, they form a covert network of spiritual triangulation and social manipulation. Their tactics aren’t always loud, but they are effective — for someone unaware. But I am aware. And they know it.

The Manager Who Isn’t My Boss

Then there’s the manager — the silent enabler. She’s not my actual supervisor, yet she acts as the office authority. When I first arrived, she seemed supportive. Lately, however, her tone has changed. She mimics concern, yet only corrects me when the gossip of others reaches her ear. She ignores real-time mistakes, but scolds in meetings for things I wasn’t even trained on. Her misplaced anger doesn’t even feel like her own — it’s the projection of Negative Nag’s hostility.

The moment she raised her voice in a meeting, something inside me detached. I didn’t feel anything. Not shame. Not anger. Just numbness. That was my spirit shielding me from spiritual abuse disguised as “coaching.”

The Silent Resistance

I’ve chosen silence as my weapon.

I no longer engage in personal conversation. I don’t reveal anything. I don’t go to lunch with anyone unless I’m absolutely certain it’s a safe space — and even then, I talk about the weather or memories of the times lived in various states. I let them talk, but I say little.

They hate my silence.
They hate that I don’t perform.
They hate that I don’t break.

They try louder conversations, exaggerated performances, and hovering presences — all in hopes that I’ll react. But I won’t. Silence, for me, is both survival and resistance. I speak only when I choose to. I engage only when it’s necessary.

The Systemic Manipulation

Even outside of this physical location, the dysfunction continues virtually. My actual supervisor — a covert narcissist in her own right — breadcrumbed training, ignored emails, and dumped others’ tasks on me. When I hold her accountable, she backtracks, denies, and deflects. Still, I rise. Still, I work with excellence.

A senior board member — a minister — once publicly emasculated a male employee during an in-person conference. I knew it was spiritual. A tactic meant to instill fear. But I didn’t flinch. I looked him dead in the eye. I felt sadness, not fear. Because true authority doesn’t need to humiliate others.

The Spiritual Assignment

God sent me here — not to fix them, but to see.
To witness. To discern. To last long enough to tell the truth about what’s happening in systems that call themselves professional but operate like cults.
I am a seer. A pattern recognizer. A question-asker. An order-bringer. And people like me are always hated in dysfunctional systems.

They see my gifts. They mimic them. They resent them.
But they cannot be me. They can only ever imitate what they don’t carry — and my light exposes what they hide.

The Exit Plan (Spoken or Silent)

I know I won’t be here forever. Assignments have expiration dates. I still ask God daily, “Am I still assigned here, or am I released?” And until I hear “go,” I continue to walk in wisdom, silence, and sharp discernment.

But when the time comes, I’ll leave with peace — not pettiness. With truth — not bitterness. And with strength — not scars.

To Anyone Else Going Through This

You are not crazy.
You are not too sensitive.
You are not imagining things.

You are simply awake in a world that rewards sleepwalkers. And if you’re a seer like me — someone who feels, senses, and discerns — you’re not alone. Just because you’re quiet doesn’t mean you’re weak. Just because you’re not yelling doesn’t mean you’re not resisting.

Stay rooted. Speak only when needed.
Document. Observe. Guard your peace.
And know: your light is not too much — it’s just too costly for people who trade in darkness.