Have you ever started a conversation about something quite simple and, ten minutes later, found yourself defending your character, your memory, your motives, something you did six months ago and something somebody else supposedly said about you?
You may not even be quite sure how you got there.
You started with:
“I can’t come over this evening.”
And somehow you ended up here:
“That’s not fair. Sarah never said that. I came over twice last week. Last Saturday had been arranged for months, and I never said I wouldn’t help you…”
Stop for a moment and look at what happened.
You are defending yourself against an argument you never agreed to have.
The narcissistic onslaught
In a difficult conversation with somebody who uses narcissistic patterns of communication, one straightforward issue can rapidly become an onslaught. Projection appears. Triangulation appears. Old grievances are brought in. Your motives are assigned to you. Other people’s supposed opinions are introduced. Something you did months or years ago suddenly becomes relevant.
You answer one accusation and another appears. You correct the second and the first returns in a slightly different form. Because each accusation seems to demand an answer, you keep answering.
That is how you can find yourself inside a circular argument without ever consciously deciding to enter one.
Consider this:
You: “I can’t come over this evening.”
Them: “Of course you can’t. You’re never there when anybody needs you. Even Sarah said you’ve changed. You’ve always been selfish about your time. And don’t pretend you haven’t got time - you managed to go out last weekend.”
Look at how much work has just been handed to you. Did Sarah really say that? Have I changed? Am I selfish? Should I remind them of all the times I have helped? Do I need to explain last weekend?
A few sentences from the other person have generated an enormous amount of cognitive and emotional work in you.
So you respond:
“That’s not fair. Sarah never said that. I came over twice last week, and last weekend had been arranged months ago…”
And now you’re in it.
You answered questions that were never yours
The original transaction was remarkably simple:
“I can’t come over this evening.”
Your relationship with Sarah wasn’t part of it. Your activities last weekend weren’t part of it. Your history of helping wasn’t part of it. Whether you are fundamentally a selfish person certainly wasn’t part of it.
Those things were introduced into the conversation and, because you began answering them, they acquired a status they didn’t previously have.
You started treating them as your case to answer.
Every defence creates another opportunity. “You say you came over twice last week, but on Tuesday you were only here for an hour.” Now we’re litigating Tuesday. You explain Tuesday, then Wednesday appears, and before long the original subject has disappeared completely.
Some accusations are orphans
I have a name for the things that get dropped into conversations like this: orphan prompts.
An orphan prompt is a remark, accusation, implication, grievance or demand that has no legitimate parent in the conversation you were actually having.
• “??”
• “So that’s it then?”
• “I suppose you don’t care.”
• “Interesting.”
• “After everything I’ve done for you…”
• “Your sister agrees with me.”
• “You just can’t admit when you’re wrong.”
The trap is that the recipient adopts the orphan.
They work out what it means. They infer the allegation. They defend themselves, reassure, explain, investigate what somebody else supposedly said and answer the implied question.
Suddenly the other person has successfully created an entirely new transaction without ever having to formulate one properly.
Very little effort by the sender can generate considerable cognitive and emotional work in the recipient.
Orphans aren’t adopted
The rule is simple:
Every follow-up must have an identifiable procedural parent.
Orphan prompts are not delivered.
Orphans aren’t adopted.
In practice, ask yourself one question:
What conversation was I actually having?
If you said, “I can’t come over this evening,” that is the parent transaction. “Could you come tomorrow instead?” belongs to it. “I needed you because I have a hospital appointment - is there anybody else who could take me?” also belongs to it because relevant new information has been supplied.
But “Your sister thinks you’re selfish too” does not become your responsibility merely because somebody has thrown it into the room.
Orphans aren’t adopted.
You don’t have to disprove every accusation
An accusation can feel as though it demands an answer, especially an unfair one. The more outrageous it is, the stronger the urge may be to correct it.
But an accusation does not automatically acquire a right to a defence simply because somebody has made it. A grievance does not automatically become your case to answer. A reference to a third person does not automatically require investigation. Somebody else’s interpretation of your motives does not require you to explain your actual ones.
You can leave the orphan exactly where it was put.
Maintain the trajectory
Declining to adopt doesn’t necessarily mean remaining silent. Face-to-face, it often means responding only to the conversation you were actually having:
“I’m not available this evening.”
“We’re discussing the keys.”
“That isn’t relevant to what we’re discussing.”
“We’ve already dealt with that.”
“I’m not discussing Sarah.”
“I’ve already answered that.”
You are not trying to win. You are maintaining the trajectory.
Triangulation works the same way. If you say, “I need the keys returned by Friday,” and hear, “Well, your sister agrees that you’re controlling,” you do not have to investigate your sister, defend your character or enter the triangle.
“I need the keys returned by Friday.”
Projection does not require a defence either. “You just want to control me” does not turn a conversation about returning keys into a legitimate inquiry into your personality.
The rest can remain uncollected.
Circular arguments need your participation
Circular arguments are exhausting because every answer supplies material for another question, accusation or reinterpretation. Defend Tuesday and we move to Wednesday. Explain Wednesday and we return to Tuesday.
The way out is not necessarily to produce the perfect defence. There may not be one.
The way out may be to stop accepting newly deposited burdens of proof.
You don’t need to answer everything simply because it has been said.
If you want a response, bring a message that can stand on its own feet
If somebody has a concern, they can formulate it. If they need something, they can ask. If something has genuinely changed, they can explain what has changed. If they want to start a separate conversation, they can identify what that conversation is about.
The recipient should not have to become detective, interpreter, historian, prosecutor, defence counsel and respondent simply to keep a conversation going.
The recipient does not have to turn every accusation into an argument.
You don’t have to infer the allegation and then defend yourself against it. You don’t have to investigate every piece of triangulation. You don’t have to disprove somebody else’s projection. You don’t have to follow every grievance into the past.
Sometimes the exit is simply recognising:
This isn’t mine to answer.
Return to the conversation you actually entered. Leave the rest where it landed.
Don’t build the argument for them.
Orphans aren’t adopted.