Unleashing the Flying Monkey


For the purpose of brevity within this post, I am going to refer to my ex-friend as a narcissist. Is he one? I don’t know because I am not equipped to diagnose it, but some of his behaviours certainly fit within the regular patterns, and that would include the glib, superficial self defences that he will make if he ever becomes aware of this post. That said, I am sure that there is a myriad of other labels that might be attached too – low self esteem, unresolved anger and cowardice amongst them. This is not mine to ponder,  and frankly, I no longer care anyway. I only know how his actions made and still make me feel, namely sick.

Some people present themselves to you as incredible human beings. Kind, compassionate, empathetic, giving, generous of spirit, wise,  light hearted, witty, amusing, silly,  a comedian, a sage. Your best friend, your confidante, your ear and your protector. Your mirror image. If you ever meet a person like this, you will be blown away as I was. He described himself to me as my ‘twin flame’. Damn, it was effective! So effective, in fact, that it felt too good to be true. Oh well, you know what they say about that… .

When you first encounter this person in your life, you will be swept off your feet and will barely be able to register the fact that right here is a person who thinks exactly as you do, who holds your values, shares your hopes, encourages your visions, confides their fears, accepts you unreservedly.  Jesus wept. Within weeks of meeting the narc in my life, he was having fantasy conversations about uprooting, leaving his life in Australia and moving to Wales. Can anybody say faster than a bullet? Me too! I can also say ‘love bombing’, a favourite narcissistic trick.

My friend was cute. Very early on in our friendship he asked me if I had any secrets. Of course I do, but as stimulating and exciting as this person was, I wasn’t about to share them with him and so I told him a light hearted secret about something that I had done years previously when young and wild, and then I wisely opted to keep mum. In response, my narc proceeded to share with me a huge secret from his own past – one which he assured me had only shared with one other and which he was only sharing with me because I understood him and he wanted me to know everything about his life. ‘Nobody gets me like you do’,  he said. Words which ring with a bittersweet irony today.

For reasons which I won’t share on here, but which include one line of attack which came from the loose lips of the FM, I no longer accept that his secret was true. I am sad to acknowledge this fact but I can no longer believe it when his best friend contradicts it, unless he hasn’t trusted her enough to share it with her, of course. I don’t know. All I know is that I actually now believe that he made it up because he wanted me to trust him enough to share something of my past – something he could store in his memory bank and one day use as ammunition against me in the same way as he used it against Len and another. Realistically, was I ever to believe that a middle aged man trusted an internet stranger more in a few days than he trusted his own wife? Of course not and I am grateful that the alarm bells in my brain rang loudly that day because had they not, I am in no doubt that I would have been subjected to the same verbal onslaught as my friends were.

This is what narcs do, you see- they promise you the earth but they deliver only rags. They want to see inside of you because then, they control you. They want to be privy to your darkest fears because then they can use that knowledge against you. They manipulate your mind by playing victim, make excuses for their own dysfunctional behaviours and they silence you when you ask them to act like a normal decent human being. I once asked my narc why he maintained one particular negative practice of behaviour and his response was ‘poor self esteem’.  Really? He knew how to play me like a fiddle then because at this, I felt protective of him and wanted him to recognise how amazing he was. Did I mean it? In the early days of our relationship, yes, I would have meant it unreservedly but by the time I posed the question, we were heading towards the latter days and by then and retrospectively,  probably not –  but he had convinced me that he needed my approval and somehow or other, I felt that it mattered to give it. Nobody wants to see a person lack confidence, do they? Poor self esteem can be agonising and I didn’t want this person, or any other person, to feel that way when I, and only I, had been told that I had the tools to help. Yep, I have long since dubbed myself ‘Mug’

My narc was quite the expert on handing out the silent treatment too. He rocked that bad bitch like it was a precious commodity, which, to him, I suppose it was. It was the main tool in his impressive armoury of selfish behaviours and he used it with scary regularity. He was so practiced and adept at this,  it almost snapped my mind. There is something so distressing, confusing, morale breaking about speaking with a person in the morning to be told that tbey adore you, need you in their lives forever, make you promise to always be their best friend, to never leave them, only to be stuck on a shit list hours later for demanding respect. Actually, scratch the ‘demanding’ part – when dealing with a narc, you do less demanding, more walking on eggshells pleading. My narc issued this silent treatment time and again. He was an expert at the old shit list thingy – he could maintain that bitch for three months at a time, no problem, and then, once he knew that I was worn out and exhausted from trying to explain myself, and once he had got over whatever slight I had caused him by expecting honesty, back he would creep with ‘you were right. It’s my fault’ ‘I’m not very good at expressing my emotions’ or, and here’s a whopper, ‘when I was estranged from you, I started drinking heavily, became depressed and ran to morbid obesity’. Wow! Way to make me feel guilty for asking for a bit of give and take. What a bitch I am! Lesson there, girl – if you want your friend to be happy and healthy, you must never place any expectations of decency upon him.  I was very aware that his extended periods of silence never concluded with an apology or an explanation though – just an expectation that everything would be swept under the carpet and we happily move right on. I’m also aware that if I had abandoned all self respect and allowed myself to become a wet rag, he would still think he was my best friend. Yeah, I really curse my sense of fairness and dignity! Bastard thing, it is. *eyeroll*

Let me just say at this point that during these periods of silence, my behaviour was far from impeccable and I may have fired off more than one email which used cu*t as my choice of adjective. Am I ashamed of that now? I was until I familiarised myself with the way that narcs operate and saw the confirmation that being stonewalled can make a person feel emotionally ill.  Nonetheless, if I could turn back time, I would definitely remove those words and my responses because nothing about my own choices during those times makes me proud or happy, and that includes always giving him the benefit of the doubt. However, I will never apologise for the way I reacted because he knew what he was doing, how he was asserting a cruel control and how crazy making that entire pattern of behaviour was. Don’t understand it? Read this – https://aanashouse.wordpress.com/2014/07/10/psychological-abuse-invisible-killer/


Anyway,  as with everything, once those alarm bells start ringing, once you acknowledge that your friend’s well being will always be more important than your own, once you know that if you are subjected to another episode of this silence you are going to be ill, you really start to tire of their shit. My own interest had grown very thin by the final time the narc last started sniffing around wanting my company. I actually didn’t want to give it to him because with our friendship being so dysfunctional and toxic, I knew it would end in tears and I wanted to self protect – but somewhere deep inside, the little voice which said ‘don’t be harsh. Remember his secret’ kept me going back for more and it kept me making allowances for the selfish, inconsiderate behaviours that, had they been shown in anybody else, would have long since had me running for the hills. Retrospectively, I wish I had stuck to my guns when I suggested to him that our relationship would be happier if we stopped emailing and making private contact and kept it strictly as a light hearted interaction on public forums, and I was foolish to have been persuaded differently.

Eventually however, and by this time entirely worn out by the lies, I did something which the narc found unthinkable and unforgivable – I betrayed his trust.  Be under no illusions here – I knew what I was doing and I knew why I was doing it. I did it because I needed him gone and had nothing left to give. I was pissed off by being played for a fool. Once again I was asking for him to be respectful and once again,  I knew that requesting an adult like response would render me invisible. (He knows precisely what led up to my being despondent that last time, just as he knows that since then, I have become fully aware of just how enormous his lies to me were) . Knowing that I was about to be given yet another unhealthy dose of the silent treatment, I had come to the point in our friendship where, if he was going to dole it out, I wanted to force him into a position from which he would never come back hoovering and making false promises and superficial amends. If he was going to stick me on yet another shit list, he could stick me there for something worth being ostracised over. Fuck it. By now I was sick of his mind games, sick of the anxiety, sick of feeling de-energised and apathetic, sick of the headaches, sick of the panic attacks, the insomnia, of feeling maudlin and I knew that it was time to take control and rediscover my happiness, confidence and joie de vivre, and I knew that I would never feel better by allowing myself to keep being the victim of his silent abuse.

People who know me describe me as a ‘safe person’,  ie, an empathetic woman who tries to see the good in people and because of this, I often regretted that I may have hurt this man whom I had once worshipped. I ran various scenarios through my mind and often felt terrible about what had become of a treasured friendship so I sought to apologise and explain myself. I did this, not because I held any residual affection per se but really because I believed that for two people who had once been so close, it was a shame to end our friendship with anger. Make no mistake though, as much as I was able and willing to make allowances for his cruelty, I knew that I would never again want a close friendship with him. The lies and games had taken their toll but even so, I still reached out and apologised for what I had done (and I was sorry) because I really didn’t want to have possibly hurt him, because healthy resolutions are always preferable, because I still had the deepest respect for him and also, because I genuinely didn’t want to be his enemy.

Had I known then what I know now, I was right to not want that! See, narcs don’t forgive or forget, they don’t reason why your brain snapped and they don’t accept any responsibility for the hurt they inflict upon you. I definitely betrayed him, but he apparently doesn’t care about his repeated betrayals of me. And why would he when narcs don’t care about anybody other than themselves or anything other than their own gratification? If I expected understanding on this point, I was barking way up the wrong tree! So I became his enemy and once you make an enemy of them, uh-oh, their rage knows no bounds.

Come the hour, come the games.

Things happened, no point repeating them when this blog already addresses them here

Len’s Story – being shamed by the great protector at www.mjfacts.com CASTING PEARLS BEFORE SWINE

apart from to say this – sometimes good people do bad things and when Narcy made fun of Len and another, when he used a Twitter sock account to laugh at the sexual abuse they experienced as children, a part of me still kept thinking that it was because he had some sadness about him. Call it cognitive dissonance,  call it pathetic, call it what you will but once the horror, shock and disappointment eventually started to subside,  I gave him the benefit of the doubt and tried to reason and excuse his spite. A part of me even questioned whether my betrayal had turned him into this cruel bully and whether his cruelty against them was an act of revenge against me as their friend. Christ! I was so used to being manipulated by him, I had started accepting responsibility for the fact that he enjoyed tearing people to shreds. WTF?

Then one day I was forced to admit to myself that yes, good people do sometimes do bad things but what sets the narc apart from Average Joe is how we try to make amends for those things and frankly, he didn’t care less. In fact, he, ably encouraged his inconsequential FM, had enjoyed twisting a very malicious knife and watching my friends break. No way was I responsible for that! Acknowledging this was a lifeline because it took away all confusion. He never did show contrition or remorse, he never apologised for his words, he never appeared ashamed. He just kept right on pretending to be a victims’ advocate and trying to silence his critics. He didn’t want his mask dislodging, especially when he prides himself on his reputation as a renowned internet protector of abused children. But no true advocate attacks survivors as he did. Or if they do, they hate themselves for it.

After the entire fall out ended, I contacted him and asked him to please do the right thing by myself and my friends- still wanting to believe he had humility, I suppose. He now describes my unwelcome contact as stalking. I never stalked him and he knows it, but I did want my friends to feel better and knew that he held the key. However, he still didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that I fucked off, that he could continue with his charade, and my friends – fuck them too. He has shown his true colours and I will never again ask for or expect him to show kindness because he genuinely doesn’t give two hoots about what how he exploited their pain for his own sorry ends.  Neither does he care about his hypocrisy, his lies or about foisting his repugnant victim shaming FM upon us and applauding her nuttiness. I struggled a lot with this side of his nature,  this pathetic, knife twisting, vindictive bitchy side because it contradicted everything he had always pretended to be. It was hideous to behold and it confused the hell out of me and brought me right down because I knew that once I acknowledged that this was the real him, I would simultaneously have to acknowledge that the person who I met years ago, that one who had spent hours in contact with me and in whom I had confided so much had never really existed. I am now resigned to the fact that he was never real and that the real him is the crude victim shaming pig who enjoys the company of a vulgar flying monkey, but it has been a difficult thing to wrap my brain around. In many ways, I feel violated. My friends do too. 

While the Twitter flamewar was ongoing, Narc took to emailing me again (I didn’t welcome his hostile contact, but unlike him, I didn’t describe it as stalking. Maybe because I don’t have a frenzied FM that I want to impress) starting off with a bit of passive aggression and concluding in making accusations against me. Can’t remember precisely what they were and truthfully,  I can’t be bothered to check but to this day, he still maintains this line that I am a woman scorned and jealous who has now become his stalker. He does this because by blaming me, he doesn’t need to look at himself and because by lying about me, he can discredit me and everything I know to be true about him. Narcy is quite the expert at this.

Narc wrote me an email recently, one which he copied and sent to my friend, and it was the strangest thing because it contained so many lies about me and our extinguished friendship, I wondered what audience he thought he was addressing. After much ‘Shit! He’s lost the plot!’ I eventually figured that he had probably copied his gullible Flying Monkey into it because he likes the way she backs him up and that’s why his words read like those of a madman with memory lapses but even so, it did make me briefly question the state of his mental health. This email ended with the stern warning that if I ever discuss him, tweet about him, blog about him, talk about him, think about him, he will have me arrested. Oh, and it left me with no right of reply because he did what he always does after sending these threatening emails and closed his email account. Likes to have the last word while throwing his dummy out of the pram, does Narcy. Had I been allowed a reply, it wouldn’t have read ‘stop reading my Twitter, stop lying to your FM about me, stop emailing me or I’ll phone the police’ because hello, that would just be lame. I may have said ‘please stop misrepresenting survivors, please show some compassion, stop goading them and please say sorry’ though because that, people, is adult.

So imagine my surprise and disappointment then when I discovered that despite his wanting to make me disappear (which to me still reads like a threat on my life), I discovered that somebody was lurking and reading my Twitter timeline. For a few weeks, a proxy user had been regularly visiting this site and I wondered who it might be and why they had chosen to disguise their location. I wondered if maybe they were Twitter users so I posted a link on there and  – bam!  – that person clicked on it right away. I changed the name of this blog and tried it again, another instant click. I did it in my morning, click. In my evening, click. In my afternoon, no click. Through doing this, I established that this proxy user lived in the Southern Hemisphere. I already suspected that they did, to be honest, because apart from the shamelessly nosey and beaky @Tige2340 who lives her dreary life poking about and screengrabbing other people’s lives *waves at the sad one* and the utterly embarrassing Desiree Hill, aka Pea Arthur, who doesn’t use a proxy (not even when she’s victim shaming under her CandyPin nic) , I know that nobody else in Twitterville is particularly interested in what I write – apart from this one proxy user who was clicking on the links almost as soon as I posted them. I was being obsessively watched. This repulsed me, totally.

Unlike many people, I don’t use social media as a place to hide. I am what I am and take me or leave me – I don’t particularly care because my real life is far more precious than the nonsense involved in cyberspace. So when, for example, my family recently visited Athens and my husband and I visited Spain, it’s likely that I tweeted about it. Similarly, when my husband and myself booked to go to Paris in June or we all as a family booked go to Canada in the summer, I would most likely have tweeted about that too. Political campaigning – that would get a mention. My kids – they would get several mentionṣ… For this reason, I hate the idea of being watched by a person who fantasises about making me disappear. It’s dirty and intrusive. It is like having somebody standing outside your window peeking in through the blinds – and it’s far worse when you know that your observer despises you.

And so I did something entirely unthinkable, the brazen hussie that I am- I took a calculated guess at it being the narc who was spying and I tweeted at him and asked him to please stop snooping and to respect my boundaries. A civil enough request, one which I would have imagined that a confident adult would recognise on its merit. Oh, but Narcy didn’t. In fact, he did this instead –


*Arghhhhhh! F’loon attack! *


*take cover*


Most people know that ‘please respect my privacy’ is genteel speak for ‘fuck off’, but Desiree doesn’t understand gentility. She reads those words and responds like this… Dictionary for the confused one, please!


This is what she said! And she knows this, how? One of two ways, I guess. She’s so damaged, she wants it to be true and so she is using her imagination or, and equally, if not more likely, Narcy has fed her some misinformation in the erroneous belief that if she crudely repeats it often enough (which she does like a very good doggie), I will skulk away, broken, and he will have beaten me. Narcs like to win you see. And poor old Flying Monkey, the narcs current confidante and maintainer of his status as a victim? She is either so clueless, she doesn’t have the capacity to see how she is being played or she is as disordered as he is. Jury’s still out.

Desiree describes me as a narcissist – her opinion is hers to own and I couldn’t give a proverbial flying fuck how she views me. Besides, how qualified is this person, a perpetual student who keeps flunking then resitting her college course in biology to make a clinical psychiatric diagnosis anyway? Yep! Thought so – that’ll be a NOT AT ALL then. And even if she was qualified, how much would I ever care about the opinion of a person who is so openly misanthropic, she laughts at CSA survivors, stalks and insults them, calls them liars and also, has no shame in maintaining that ‘we are not biologically evolved to care about other people’s children’? Yeah, that’s right, I wouldn’t. Which is why I don’t.

I have to question though, if I am as narcissistic as she repeats, where are MY flying monkeys? Where are MY lying attacks? Where is MY trolling and my sticking the knives into CSA survivors? Where is MY lack of shame when I upset another? Whoops and tut tut! I’m not even any good at being a decent narc, me! Crap, I am! Maybe that’s what she meant when she told me that I suck?

So poor Desiree, the antagonist, the aggressor, the regressed 26 year old teenie, the nasty devious email spammer, Facebook stalker, creator of 1000 malicious sock accounts, highly strung and possessive defender of a man who hides behind her skirt can throw any amount of ‘obsessed with a married man’ shit as she wants at me when wanting somebody to try and belittle but if she believes this to be the truth, she is a bigger fool than I ever imagined, and if he tells her that it’s the truth, he is a bigger liar than I ever dared to acknowledge. I am not obsessed with this man – I am just trying to rid myself of the lingering toxicity and to distance myself from the memory that when unsettled, he is so spiteful and pathetic, he happily betrays CSA survivors in order to make others feel as bloody miserable and insecure as he is.

Which, coincidentally, is why I requested to be left alone. Hello????? Hardly rocket science, is it!

Amongst her myriad of confusions, she also doesn’t understand that when she comes at me, gums flapping and fangs bared, far from seeing that toxicity reduce, she enhances it because she and her words confirm what a devious liar old Narcy truly is and how much misrepresentation went on in the early days of our friendship. One lie that stands out is the ‘I’m not vengeful and I don’t carry grudges’ one.  Oh, OK. Maybe you’re not angry and bitter at all then – maybe you just abuse CSA survivors and lie to your FM because this is who you are. Cool. 

Back when we were friends, he would have (publicly, at least) poured scorn on anybody who laughed at CSA survivors as she does, would have found her homophobia and her statements like ‘sex up the digestive tract isn’t the usual place for the practice’ archaic and bigoted, would have been gobsmacked by anybody who concluded, as she does, that some kids are too fat to molest, would have been outraged by her comment that man/child bedsharing is no big deal, would have known that using the word ‘rape’ to describe the sexual assault on a child is never a ‘salacious click-me headline’ as she claimed and would never have joined her in associating paedophilia with homosexuality. These days, he supports those words. Not only does he defend them – he attacks people who dare to publicly contradict them. Perhaps he always did support these ideas in private? If he did, he was always a liar. Or perhaps he supports them now because he is mirroring somebody new. If so, that still makes him a liar.

I think Desiree, in her role of protector, wants to make me jealous, and Narc has already told me that I am. I don’t doubt for a second that they will maintain that line of bullcrap. Actually,  I suspect that they’re so deluded, they have convinced themselves that it’s true. But whenever I have asked them which part of their friendship I could possibly envy, I have never received a reply. Maybe it’s because when asked to look inside of themselves, he realises that being too cowardly (as he is) to apologise is neither enviable nor honourable, and being as petulant and  disordered (as she is)  that she gets off on abusing CSA survivors is pretty fucking undesirable. I have no idea about this and certainly don’t intend to waste a second of my precious life trying to work it out but if they think I envy dysfunctional people in dysfunctional friendships, I laugh. If I wanted a dysfunctional friendship, I would never have betrayed him all those months ago – but I did because unlike old Harpie over there, I have some self respect. God, pointing out the obvious… Like I said, Desiree and dot joining – it’s akin to Tige reading all about Wacko and finding him innocent.

And the purpose of this post, as long winded as it is? It’s cathartic, it’s cleansing, it gets things off my chest, it enables me to discuss things from the point of my truth, the real truth and not the shitty blahblah that’s oft repeated by this pair of idiotic dimwits when trying to cover their own spineless backs,  and it allows me to portray what a pathetic and easily led fool this bombastic monkey is. It allows me to defend my husband who, despite her nutty vengeful insistence that he’s a bore, is such a good man, he would still undoubtedly piss on her if she was on fire – a wonderful, kind, caring man who adores his family and who would slit his own wrists before ever demeaning survivors of CSA or indeed, any other trauma for some lame hide-behind-the-keyboard kick. He’s an adult, see. He is a real person. And even if he was the bore that she has imagined that he must be, at least he hasn’t driven me to join Ashley Madison like at least one of her happily married controllers, er, friends. 

Another reason for this long winded post – it provides me with an opportunity to post this link. If she reads it, I wonder if she will see herself contained within? I see it more clearly than I see Wacko’s transformation from black to white.


For those who don’t know this term, “flying monkeys” are people that a narcissist uses to do their bidding.  Sometimes, a narcissist will not attack you publicly in any way–which makes them look good–but they are privately telling carefully chosen people how evil and awful you are. They select these people the same way they chose you. They are experts at reading people and realizing who will make an easy target and a puppet. They also know who won’t, so they avoid the people they can’t easily use. Narcissists usually choose other, lesser, narcissists who will enjoy attacking you, or they choose very empathetic people who believe their stories and honestly believe they are supporting an innocent person. These flying monkeys then proceed to stalk you and report back to the narcissist–again, either to be mean or because they think they are helping the wronged party. Or, the worst flying monkeys will spread the lies the narcissist tells them privately by taking them public. The lies don’t come from the narcissist’s mouth, so they can claim they are “taking the high road,” but the words the flying monkeys spread are *exactly* what they heard from the narc. They do the narcissist’s evil, but make it seem like the narcissist isn’t really involved. They have no idea they are being used.

The term comes from the flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz since the wicked witch sends them to carry out her attacks. Most of the time, the narcissist has convinced the monkeys that the narcissist is the victim and the real victim is the abuser, so the monkeys go after the real victim and treat the real victim like the abuser. Although, I have seen some cases where the monkeys know who is the real abuser and who is the real victim, but just want to jump in on the attack on the victim. (Scary.)

I pity the Flying Monkey. I even pity a potty mouthed one like this lonely unpopular girl who yells at me to stay away from her only friend 😦. I pity her because I find it impossible to believe that a happy person would act as she does. We all know the saying – hurt people hurt people, and she loves to do this. It seems a shame that she wastes her energies on me though because an immature and emotionally regressed fool like her will always miss her mark. As I said earlier, I don’t live my life in a virtual reality – I don’t need to when my real world, the one which Narcy always told me he envied, is really very nice. Besides, if people want to hurt you with their words, you have to value the mouthpiece and there is nothing about the uncouth, vulgar and aggressive Desiree Hill that commands even a smidgen of respect.

I am old enough to be this woman’s mother – in fact, she is only five years older than my eldest son. If he or any of my boys conducted themselves as she does, I would be gutted and would blame myself for failing as a parent.

I also write this post as an advisory – if you have ever confided in that sweet woman from Singapore, she doesn’t exist. That lady is just one of the many masks that Narcy hides behind. Protect yourselves better than myself and my friends did, please.

I have closed my Twitter account now and have uninstalled the app from my tablet. I have locked down my Facebook and hope that I am as well protected against him as I can be. There is only one way to deal with a narcissist and their monkeys and that is by avoiding them like the plague. I hope I have taken enough measures to do that, but these are a resilient pair and I don’t doubt that they will still find a way to keep their beady and obsessive eyes on me. And when they manage it, I wonder at what point they might wake up to the amount of projection that they, he and his lackey, have hurled in my direction? God, look at me still expecting a normal range of responses. Yikes! Ever the optimist!

Oh and incidentally, since asking the narc to respect my privacy, those persistent visits to this blog by somebody who wanted to remain anonymous have stopped. I don’t believe in coincidence. Do you?




Deflection behavior and the narcissist

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