Those of us with the misfortune of having a narcissist in our life, currently or formerly, are intimately familiar with narcissist rage. Here is a real-life damage list of some things raging narcissists have broken or destroyed. (Edited for clarity.)

Damage List

“I’ve replaced household furnishings in their entirety over the years…broken tables, lamps, chairs, even artwork torn from the walls and broken, even my car transmission by slamming it into park when I tried to leave him. But I think the topper was an entire range/stove. After confronting him about suspected infidelity, the argument ensued and not only did he break the dining room table by throwing it across the room, he threw a coffee cup right through the oven door. And yes, he was cheating….again. After almost 15 years of this roller coaster ride through hell… I finally left.”


“He killed my dog . . .  and a kitten the following summer.”


“Mine killed my cat.”



“Everything! Lamps, walls, DVDs, pictures, items from my deceased grandma, vintage records—always my things—doors, plates, chairs, cups, tables, my heart, my spirit, my soul. [He] stabbed a ketchup bottle with a pairing knife screaming ‘die bitch die’ and told me I’m lucky it wasn’t me. And his favorite ‘throw’ was throwing me and my daughter out of the house in the cold, without car keys, locking us out.”



“Ribs, feet, jaw, fingers, knee caps, eye socket, teeth, and nose . . . my dog’s ribs, eyeglasses, many phones, three laptops, mirrors, windows in car, TV, safe, jewelry, and so much more . . . my spirit but never my will to survive.”


“The NARC drove the $25K John Deere tractor through the garage door when I called the bookkeeper about our company expenses—?! He also SMASHED my Macbook Pro on the floor in front of our children when I didn’t take his food out of the oven in time. I could go on and on. . . .”


“Empty wine bottles.”


“Phone, laptop, toys, headphones . . . and an endless list of stuff he hid all for reasons God only knows.”


“He smashed an acoustic guitar at the end of the driveway and into our street and left it there.”


“My sister’s bird. The jar of orange juice against the kitchen wall in the mornings. Walls, doors, mirrors, my brother’s kite . . .”


“Broke my will to live.”


“He threw my pet cat out a third-story window.”


“My grandparents’ vintage wedding photo that we thought was missing and finally found.”


“A car windshield and the grocery cart he threw into it, a TV, my dresser, a kids piggy bank, a few cars, his friend’s nose (LOL), a fence, a few walls. That’s all I care to remember right now.”


“My ex once punched a hole in the wall and then ripped the entire 4′ x 8′ sheet of drywall down. I’m excellent at drywall work, thanks to him.”


“My 2,000-piece puzzle I spent two months working on (I have PTSD, and it was a way to cope). My China hutch—he pushed it off a porch when we were moving ’cause I couldn’t hear him due to partial deafness. He burned irreplaceable family pictures (of deceased loved ones); broke my fingers (4), my teeth, two laptops, a few phones, tables, and my taillight on my car. He punched the fridge and dented it really good and two bathroom doors (trying to get to me ’cause I was trying to get away from him), knick knacks, plates, glasses, and that’s all I can think of off the top of my head.”


“I lost count of how many cell phones. . . .”


“As a teenager she broke my first digital camera . . . because I had used the phone.”

ハニー 人形

“Everything: my soul and spirit and furniture, dishes, my Christmas angel, my heart. . . .”


“Burnt all my clothes and stuff. Punched holes in doors, etc. Emptied bank accounts . . . I have a list.”


“He threw my makeup bag across the room, broke a lamp, punched holes in the walls, hit me in the face with the screen door, and many more things I have forgotten over the years.”


“Walls, brand new 65-inch TV, ceiling fan with the barstool that he also broke.”


“A cute audiotape of our girls when they were little. He broke it in half and hurled it out into the yard.”


“My computer, my children’s hearts, my soul—tortured the heart and soul out of me for years!!! Mean Drunk!!! Control Freak!!!!”


“Besides a few of my bones, he ripped and shredded my clothes and threw out all of my dad’s belongings including a heart remembrance necklace with my dad’s ashes in it (my dad had passed away). I was devastated.”


“Walls. Doors. Phones. Dishes. Me.”


“She Broke My Heart!”


“His hand from punching the wall.”


“Photo frames, hair, hip, diary, earrings, car, friends, and family.”


“Vacuum, ironing board, sewing machine.”


“In a beautiful case of Karma and poetic justice, he once broke his own toe by kicking his own truck, and that was just an awesome thing!”


“X-Box controller. Glasses.”


“My electronics and my face.”


“Pole over my head, lol, stupid cow.”


“You name it, he broke it! I was trying to leave once and he threw every bottle of my perfume—nail polish, dish, etc. Then he grabbed my new Ralph Lauren coat (just bought it for me for Christmas) and was trying to mop up the polish!”


“Every bit of glass that I had in the kitchen.”


“My phones and my bones.”


“My heart, my soul, my self-esteem, my happiness, my confidence . . .”


“Me, shelves, pictures, my glasses, smashed my make-up.”


“Broke my kids and my spirit.”


“My back.”


Julia L. Hall is the author of the forthcoming memoir, Carry You, about life, and a few near deaths, in a narcissist family (read excerpts). Her articles on narcissism regularly appear in The Huffington Post

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