It’s something we see everywhere — from gutter media & politics to workplace bully’s, even within families, so called friendships and community groups.
Someone hears something they don’t like or disagrees with your truth, and instead of having a respectful conversation, they try to influence others against you.
It often shows up as gossip with a spiteful edge — subtle comments, half-truths, or outright lies designed to discredit and isolate.
But here’s the thing:
People who do this reveal far more about themselves than they do about the person they’re targeting.
A person who smiles to your face but speaks badly of you when you’re not around shows you exactly who they are.
And the irony? These things rarely stay secret. People talk. Word travels. And when someone shows they’ll badmouth one person they pretend to like, others quickly realise they’ll do the same to them.
This kind of behaviour comes from insecurity and unhappiness — not strength.
Like a lemon when squeezed, what’s inside comes out. When life applies pressure, bitterness can’t hide behind a mask.
True integrity means showing up with consistency — being the same person in every room, whether the cameras are on or not.
No photo opportunity, title, or volunteer badge can cover what’s inside.
And then there are boundaries.
People who struggle to communicate and hold their own boundaries often find it difficult to respect those of others.
They experience boundaries as rejection — as if your “no” is a personal attack rather than a healthy expression of autonomy.
When called out, they may cry, become defensive, or excuse their behaviour with phrases like, “I was only trying to help.”
What’s really happening inside in those moments is that the ego steps in as a protector — an inflated version of self that shields them from seeing the truth.
Looking in the mirror of self-awareness can be confronting. It’s far easier to point fingers at others than to face what’s being reflected back.
When the mirror shows something uncomfortable — guilt, envy, insecurity, or shame — the unhealed parts of ourselves rush to defend, deflect, and deny.
The ego whispers, “It’s not you — it’s them.”
And that whisper becomes a wall between growth and accountability.
But the reality is, the mirror isn’t the enemy — it’s the messenger.
If the reflection feels painful, it’s a sign that something inside needs attention, not avoidance.
Because until we face those wounds, we risk bleeding on people who didn’t cut us.
Healing asks for courage — to sit with discomfort, to trace reactions back to their roots, and to meet the parts of ourselves we’d rather hide.
That’s where growth begins: not in defending our pain, but in understanding it.
But overriding someone’s choice is never help — it’s control disguised as care.
Truth can sting when it reflects something we don’t want to see in ourselves. Yet that discomfort is the doorway to growth, if we’re willing to step through it.
As my youngest son once said — dealing with your feelings is a lot like dealing with a fart.
We all have them, and pretending we don’t just makes us sick. Holding things in might seem polite or convenient, but it always leads to pressure, discomfort, and eventually… a bit of a mess. 💩
It’s far healthier to let those feelings out — to sit with them, notice them, and understand what they’re trying to tell you.
They’re uniquely yours, part of your internal landscape, and they deserve your attention.
Sometimes it helps to “fart with a friend” — to share what’s coming up in a safe, non-judgemental space.
And yes, occasionally that friend might release a whole load of their own stuff too — that’s okay. It all needs to come out.
So the next time your emotional tummy rumbles, take a breath, brace yourself, and let it move through.
Healing doesn’t always smell pretty, but it’s always better out than in.
And here’s another truth:
People who thrive on negativity often like nothing better than to see others fail.
They quietly rejoice when they hear someone is struggling or lonely — their smiles masking a sense of satisfaction that another person’s light has dimmed.
They pretend to be kind and gentle, but their energy tells a different story. Beneath the surface lies harshness and cruelty, a projection of their own inner misery.
A lack of self-awareness allows them to overlook their own toxic behaviours while blaming others for the very traits they refuse to see in themselves.
And it’s this lack of awareness that makes them perfect flying monkeys for narcissists.
The term “flying monkey” comes from The Wizard of Oz — the winged creatures who did the witch’s bidding without question.
In emotional and relational terms, it describes people who act on behalf of a manipulator or narcissist — spreading rumours, taking sides, or attacking those the narcissist has targeted.
Often, these individuals believe they’re doing the right thing. They’re drawn in by charm, pity, or persuasion, and end up defending behaviour that is harmful or abusive.
Flying monkeys create further harm by validating the narcissist’s distorted narrative and silencing the person being targeted.
Their actions can destroy reputations, relationships, and emotional safety — not only for others, but for themselves.
Because each time they gossip, exclude, or attack at someone else’s request, they disconnect further from their own truth, integrity, and peace.
And this is the tragedy:
Flying monkeys usually don’t realise they’re being used as tools of manipulation.
They confuse loyalty with obedience, and empathy with enabling.
By the time the narcissist turns on them — as they almost always do — deep shame and confusion often follow.
Healing begins when we step out of that dynamic.
When we learn to question motives, stay neutral, and refuse to carry anyone else’s poison.
When we stop feeding toxic systems — and instead choose curiosity, compassion, and critical thinking.
You’ve likely heard the saying, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
It perfectly sums up how toxic alliances are often formed.
Gossipers and manipulators may appear united, but the only real bond they share is mutual negativity — a temporary sense of belonging built around tearing someone else down.
These connections aren’t rooted in respect or shared values; they’re rooted in resentment and pain.
It’s not friendship — it’s a trauma bond disguised as solidarity.
When the common target changes, the alliance usually collapses.
Because underneath it all, gossipers don’t actually trust one another — they simply need validation for their own discomfort.
And once that need is met, they’ll eventually turn on each other too.
This behaviour is especially damaging when it happens within families.
When parents or relatives fall out and use gossip or manipulation to destroy one another, it’s the children who suffer most.
They become caught in the middle of adult conflicts that have nothing to do with them, forced to absorb the emotional fallout.
Toxic gossip in families is not harmless — it is psychological abuse.
It teaches children that love is conditional, that truth is distorted, and that loyalty means choosing sides.
When adults prioritise revenge over a child’s emotional safety, everyone loses.
The bitterness consumes the storyteller first — because gossip is like a big black dog: it might look like it’s attacking someone else, but eventually, it circles back and bites the hand that feeds it.
What we put out always finds its way home.
The healthiest choice is to step outside that world entirely.
Observe it for what it is — destructive, cyclical, and sad — and refuse to be part of it.
Because here’s where real maturity lies:
We don’t need to agree to respect each other.
The world is big enough for all views, all opinions, and all experiences.
Disagreement isn’t the problem — the problem begins when one person cannot tolerate another’s differing view or boundary and turns nasty as a result.
When they twist difference into division, and respect into rejection.
And healing — real healing — means noticing these same tendencies within ourselves and refusing to participate in them.
It asks us to listen to individual truths, not to accept gossip or negative labels assigned to others.
Healing invites us to look beyond the shaming words and see the truth for ourselves.
It asks us to be accountable for our own actions and aware of the energy we bring into the world.
To give ourselves the chance to listen and learn first-hand, and to make our own judgements based on how people live their lives — their actions, not others’ opinions.
And none of us are perfect.
We are all learning, growing, and developing.
To become happier and healthier in ourselves, we have to learn about our internal landscape — the emotions, stories, and beliefs we hold, and how they shape our lives and influence the kind of world we create together.
That’s how we break the cycle.
That’s how we lead with integrity.
And that’s how we heal.
Stay grounded.
Stay kind.
And keep your boundaries intact — they’re not walls to keep people out, but filters that protect your peace.
If you find yourself in a position — either speaking toxic gossip or absorbing it from others — pause for a moment and ask yourself quietly:
What is my intention here?
What am I part of?
Am I adding to the problem or moving toward understanding?
Am I being a destructive force, or can I accept that I always have a choice?
I don’t need to judge, criticise, blame, or label anyone.
I can choose silence. I can choose reflection.
I can choose to move toward rupture and repair — or simply to step back and do nothing.
Recognise – toxic gossiping is a dysregulated behaviour. Just because many people do it, doesn’t make it right!
And if I do choose to participate in the character assassination of another, dare I ask myself, with grace and honesty — why?
Because that question — asked with sincerity, not shame — is where healing begins.