How I Ended Up Writing About Trauma, Abuse, and Cognitive Science
If you had asked me three years ago whether I thought I would be writing books about narcissistic abuse, trauma, cognitive science, or philosophy of mind, I would probably have laughed in your face.
And yet, look at me now: publishing book after book on all these supposedly “hot” topics—and quite a few others.
But let's go back to my story, that if you are interested, of course.
And yet, look at me now: publishing book after book on all these supposedly “hot” topics—and quite a few others.
As you can see the new book on the trauma of narcissistic abuse is The Sabotage of Declared Preference: Why the Narcissist Destroys What You Love and the Cost of Trying to Survive It—and oh, boy, what a book this is.
But let's go back to my story, that if you are interested, of course.
In my defense, when I started writing, I simply wanted to write down what was in my mind.
I published memoirs because they were the subject I knew best. It was my life. I knew it firsthand. Just like Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation who argues that he is most qualified to write about himself.
And perhaps, after decades of following questions that had no answers in the literature, this is what I was actually looking for all along.
And if I am lucky, perhaps this is what you were looking for too: a book that explains your experience of narcissistic abuse, rather than forcing your complex trauma into the universal explanations psychology has imposed on you.
I published memoirs because they were the subject I knew best. It was my life. I knew it firsthand. Just like Charlie Kaufman in Adaptation who argues that he is most qualified to write about himself.
But before writing, the research in human behavior, thought and consciousness occupied my aphantasic mind.
I kept looking. I kept digging. I kept following questions into places I had not expected to go. And I always had this feeling that, sooner or later, I would discover the subject I actually knew best—not because I had deliberately chosen it, but because I kept returning to it.
At forty-seven, I finally realized:
Oh God. This is what I know best.
Trauma. Abuse. Cognitive science. Philosophy of mind.
So here we are.
I kept looking. I kept digging. I kept following questions into places I had not expected to go. And I always had this feeling that, sooner or later, I would discover the subject I actually knew best—not because I had deliberately chosen it, but because I kept returning to it.
At forty-seven, I finally realized:
Oh God. This is what I know best.
Trauma. Abuse. Cognitive science. Philosophy of mind.
So here we are.
The Sabotage of Declared Preference begins with a deceptively simple observation: you tell someone what you love, and they destroy it.
Why?
Because declaring a preference does more than identify something you enjoy. It reveals that you have a will of your own. Within a narcissistic dynamic, that independent will can become the target.
The threat is not really the preference.
The declaration is.
From there, the book moves into a much larger question: what happens to the cognitive machinery of a person who has spent years adapting to chronic psychological manipulation?
You know that you are suffering. You know something needs to change. You may do everything therapy tells you to do and still find yourself unable to begin healing in the way you are supposed to.
Why?
What happens when the psychological tools being prescribed are tools you cannot access?
This is where aphantasia, anauralia, and anendophasia enter the picture.
The book examines narcissistic abuse through a framework that extends beyond conventional trauma terminology, arguing that chronic psychological manipulation can affect the very cognitive resources through which a person represents themselves, regulates themselves, imagines possibilities, and maintains a sense of direction.
This is not another fluffy self-help book about narcissistic abuse.
It is a psychological manifesto about narcissism as part of something larger: a culture capable of producing predators, grooming prey, laundering abuse into normalcy, and turning suffering into consumption.
The sabotage of declared preference is not merely emotional cruelty. It can become an assault on the mechanisms through which a person experiences agency and constructs a viable future.
Your mind's eye may be blind.
Your mind's ear may be deaf.
Your mind's voice may be mute.
And when the internal resources you once relied upon are unavailable, surviving abuse can leave consequences that existing trauma language does not adequately describe.
That is why I call them fleshbacks.
This book is my attempt to give that experience a name, a framework, and a way of understanding what happened.
Why?
Because declaring a preference does more than identify something you enjoy. It reveals that you have a will of your own. Within a narcissistic dynamic, that independent will can become the target.
The threat is not really the preference.
The declaration is.
From there, the book moves into a much larger question: what happens to the cognitive machinery of a person who has spent years adapting to chronic psychological manipulation?
You know that you are suffering. You know something needs to change. You may do everything therapy tells you to do and still find yourself unable to begin healing in the way you are supposed to.
Why?
What happens when the psychological tools being prescribed are tools you cannot access?
This is where aphantasia, anauralia, and anendophasia enter the picture.
The book examines narcissistic abuse through a framework that extends beyond conventional trauma terminology, arguing that chronic psychological manipulation can affect the very cognitive resources through which a person represents themselves, regulates themselves, imagines possibilities, and maintains a sense of direction.
This is not another fluffy self-help book about narcissistic abuse.
It is a psychological manifesto about narcissism as part of something larger: a culture capable of producing predators, grooming prey, laundering abuse into normalcy, and turning suffering into consumption.
The sabotage of declared preference is not merely emotional cruelty. It can become an assault on the mechanisms through which a person experiences agency and constructs a viable future.
Your mind's eye may be blind.
Your mind's ear may be deaf.
Your mind's voice may be mute.
And when the internal resources you once relied upon are unavailable, surviving abuse can leave consequences that existing trauma language does not adequately describe.
That is why I call them fleshbacks.
This book is my attempt to give that experience a name, a framework, and a way of understanding what happened.
And perhaps, after decades of following questions that had no answers in the literature, this is what I was actually looking for all along.
And if I am lucky, perhaps this is what you were looking for too: a book that explains your experience of narcissistic abuse, rather than forcing your complex trauma into the universal explanations psychology has imposed on you.
Download and read The Sabotage of Declared Preference: Why the Narcissist Destroys What You Love and the Cost of Trying to Survive It from Amazon: https://link.amazon/B0iUUURvN
Leave a comment if you have something in your mind. 
If this book spoke to you, feel free to:
- Subscribe to my Substack if you are interested in what happens when neurodevelopmental psychology, arelational abuse, neurodivergence, and philosophy of mind are examined outside conventional frameworks: https://cristinagherghel.substack.com
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Thank you for reading and supporting my career as a writer and researcher.
Silence is not the absence of sound. It is the absence of entry.Cristina Gherghel
