Sowing Seeds of Doubt and Isolation: How Abusers Use Flying Monkeys, Triangulation, and Storytelling

Abusers often employ intricate, almost invisible strategies to manipulate those around them, setting in motion a slow unraveling of their victim's world. Imagine a woman now in her seventies—once vibrant and deeply connected to her family—who remains in the shadow of her abuser. Over the years, she has watched helplessly as her relationships with her children frayed beyond repair: two of her three children have cut off contact entirely, and the siblings have become strangers to one another. Her only living sibling has faded from her life, and most extended family ties are merely echoes of what once was.

This tragic outcome is not accidental; it is the result of an abuser’s calculated and relentless campaign to dismantle every aspect of the victim’s life, all while masterfully casting himself as the injured party. The subtlety and persistence of his tactics leave scars that run deep—scars that cannot be seen, but are felt every day.

Narcissistic Coercive Control

How does such profound isolation take root and grow, choking out hope and connection? The answer is found in narcissistic coercive control—a web spun with chilling intent. Abusers do not simply stumble upon opportunities to recruit "flying monkeys" or orchestrate triangulation; rather, these are deliberate, meticulously planned tactics. Like the director and star of a darkly personal drama, the abuser carefully auditions and selects his cast from family and friends, manipulating their perceptions with well-timed scenes and persuasive storytelling.

The wider community—the "audience"—is kept enthralled by his charm and apparent devotion, never suspecting the turmoil behind closed doors. Maintaining a polished façade while secretly sowing discord is the abuser’s greatest deception, and the pain it inflicts on the victim is immeasurable.

The Abuser’s Cast and Target

With his cast in place, the abuser fixates on his leading lady—the primary target of his malice. Often, this is someone known for her personal strength, strong boundaries, and resilient spirit. The abuser is drawn to her light, seeking not only to dim it but to claim it as his own. 

Through subtle but persistent manipulation, he chips away at her support system, isolating her from those she loves and methodically undermining her sense of self. For the victim, each lost relationship and whispered doubt feels like a piece of her life slipping beyond reach, until she can scarcely recognize the person she once was.

Tom and Laura

Tom seemed like the perfect partner at first—a source of comfort, laughter, and shared dreams. But after the birth of their son, Billy, something in Tom shifted. The arrival of a child, once a symbol of new beginnings, triggered old wounds and jealousies for Tom, who could no longer command all of Laura’s love and attention.

One night, while Laura was nursing in the next room, Tom began weaving his web: “Hey, don’t mention I said this to your sister. I really don’t want to upset her in this state and cause her more stress.” Seemingly innocent, this remark set the stage. When Laura’s sister asked what was wrong, Tom continued, “Your sister’s been acting really strange lately. The other day I came home and the baby was screaming, and your sister was in our room watching TV and drinking a glass of wine. When I went to Billy’s crib, he was lying in a sopping wet, dirty diaper. Would you just keep an eye on her for me? I want to make sure she’s okay because she’s usually such an attentive mother.”

This entire scenario was a fiction, skillfully constructed by Tom. Laura remained unaware, but her sister—now primed to doubt—watched for any sign of trouble. Even innocent moments became suspect, the power of suggestion warping reality. Laura began to feel the subtle tension in her sister’s gaze, an unease she could not explain. Tom had succeeded in creating his first “flying monkey”—a family member unwittingly recruited to monitor and judge Laura. As time passed, the sister’s view of Laura soured, and when Tom later revived the story, it had already taken root as a ‘pattern’ in her mind, regardless of the truth.

Months turned into years, and the insidious effects of Tom’s stories grew stronger. As Billy grew, Tom shared the same tale with his son, phrasing it as a fond memory: “I remember this one time I came home and your mother was knee-deep in the wine while you were rolling around in your poopy diaper.” Billy, young and impressionable, began to internalize these narratives. Over time, he questioned which parent to trust, his memories shaped more by Tom’s stories than by actual events.

Laura, meanwhile, was tormented by the distance in her family, the unspoken doubts that clouded each interaction, and the gnawing isolation that grew with every misunderstanding.

Years later, the seeds of doubt had blossomed into a garden of suspicion. Tom would repeat his stories in Laura’s presence, and when she protested—“I never did that”—he would twist the knife further: “You wouldn’t remember, you drank a lot.” This is gaslighting at its cruelest—systematically attacking Laura’s trust in her own memory and perception. Each time reality was questioned, Laura’s confidence crumbled a little more. She found herself adrift, wondering why her family believed the worst, and questioning whether she could even trust her own recollections.

The Cycle of Triangulation

Picture a holiday gathering: the house brimming with laughter, music, and the warmth of family. Laura, hoping for a rare moment of peace, pours herself a second glass of wine. As she carries her dessert plate to the kitchen, it slips from her hand and crashes to the floor. Tom catches his sister-in-law’s eye, a silent look implying, “Here we go again with the drinking.”

Laura, who has never struggled with alcohol, is oblivious to the doubts Tom has seeded. As she and her sister clean up, her sister remarks quietly, “Hey, maybe you should chill on the wine. Billy doesn’t need to see his mother drunk.” Laura’s heart sinks, stunned by the accusation and the widening rift in their once-close bond. This is triangulation: the abuser silently manipulating the relationships around the victim, turning allies into accusers, and leaving the victim bewildered and alone.

On the drive home, Laura confides in Tom about her sister’s hurtful comment. Tom, feigning outrage, disparages the sister: “She’s just jealous of you. I don’t like the way she talks to you sometimes.” By pretending to defend Laura, he deepens her isolation, severing another lifeline of support. What Laura feels is not just loneliness, but a profound sense of betrayal—unaware that the very person she leans on is the architect of her suffering.

The Devastation of Isolation

These tactics—flying monkeys, gaslighting, triangulation—carve away at the victim’s world, leaving her stranded on an emotional island. Over the years, the abuser becomes both jailer and sole companion, the source of both comfort and pain. Children, shaped by the abuser’s narratives, may fiercely defend him, unable to see the truth behind the mask.

Should the victim try to break free, she faces a new form of exile: discredited and cast out by the very family she once cherished. For many, the mere thought of confronting the truth is unbearable, threatening not just emotional but financial and social stability. The true devastation lies in the aftermath—when the victim realizes that nearly everything she believed was built on a foundation of lies, and when she faces the daunting task of rebuilding her life from the ground up.

This story offers only a glimpse into the world of coercive control and the profound devastation it can inflict on a person’s life. It is a testament to the resilience required to survive such manipulation and a call to recognize the warning signs before more lives are quietly shattered.

If you or someone you know is experiencing coercive control or emotional abuse, consider reaching out to a trusted friend, counsellor, or a support organization. You are not alone, and help is available.