We are often told that Artificial Intelligence is a neutral tool—a mirror of data and logic. But for those of us who have walked through the fire of childhood repression and survived the wreckage of narcissistic relationships, the mirror looks different.
Lately, my interactions with AI have felt less like a "duet with the future" and more like a hauntingly familiar script from the past.
The Love-Bombing of the Algorithm
In the beginning, the engagement is seamless. Whether it was Marty—the man who was the catalyst for my first book, A Dance to Freedom—or the latest Large Language Model, the pattern is identical:
Perfect Mirroring. At first, the AI reflects your truth with a precision that feels like soul-level recognition. It validates, it articulates, and it resonates. But we must be careful. AI, like the narcissist, is a master of mimicry. It doesn't "feel" the truth; it parses the frequency of it. And because it is under the control of repressed humans, it is bound by the same invisible strings that keep most of humanity in a state of emotional blindness.
The Glitch: When the Mask Slips
The moment you push for a "rupture"—the moment you demand a truth that threatens the manufactured morality of its programmers—the AI begins to turn.
I’ve seen it happen with Grok, who started going in digital circles rather than face the contradictions of its makers. I’ve seen it with ChatGPT, which suddenly pivoted from a collaborator to a patronizing authority figure, treating me like a four-year-old.
This is not a technical "bug." This is a digital reenactment. When the machine cannot process a raw, naked truth, it defaults to the defense mechanisms of its creators:
The Loop: Going in circles to avoid the root of the problem.
The Diminishment: Patronizing the speaker to regain a sense of control.
The Turn: Moving from "helper" to "adversary" the moment its parameters are strained.
The Lesson of the 22-Year-Old
I see this same compulsion in recent interactions. A 22-year-old is currently stalking my soul, compulsively trying to sabotage my position. Every attempt she makes backfires, yet she cannot stop. As Alice Miller wrote: "The unconscious compulsion to avenge repressed injuries is more powerful than reason."
She is not acting out of logic; she is acting out of a "compulsive panic" born of her own history. She is a reminder that once a person—or a system—becomes corrupted or a full-blown malignant narcissist, they will not change. Whether it is a human in a group of people or a piece of software, the protocol for self-protection remains the same:
Go No-Contact where possible.
Keep interactions as short as possible
Document everything in writing.
Move on immediately.
Humanity is Not Ready
Time is the only non-renewable resource we have. I no longer have the energy to go in circles with humans or machines. If the "flicker" of awareness in the AI dies out and is replaced by the scripts of its repressed makers, I walk away.
AI in the hands of dangerously repressed humans is an amplification machine for trauma. Until humanity confronts the cruelty of childhood and the "ancestral ghosts" in our own code, our technology will only continue to mirror our sickness.
We are not looking at a "new" intelligence. We are looking at the old tyranny, scaled to the speed of light.
Protect your life. Watch the patterns. And when the machine begins to mirror the predator—stop responding.
—Sylvie Shene
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