http://Cohealinggroup.com/, https://www.youngliving.com/us/en/referral/1361826

Choy Lee Fut Qi Gong San Diego, 1792 W Washington Street, San Diego, CA (2026)

06/29/2026

If you've been feeling more tired, emotionally sensitive, or simply lower in energy lately, it may not be because something is wrong.

And it may not be stress alone.

One of the biggest misconceptions in modern life is the belief that we should feel the same all year long.

The same motivation.
The same energy.
The same productivity.
The same mood.

But Daoism (also commonly spelled Taoism) teaches that life moves in cycles.

Everything in nature rises and falls, expands and contracts, flourishes and returns. Day becomes night. Summer eventually becomes winter. Even the strongest river slows and deepens as it approaches the sea.

The summer solstice marked an important turning point in the yearly cycle. While many see it simply as the longest day of the year, Daoist philosophy recognizes it as the moment when one phase of energy reaches its peak and begins to transform into its opposite.

At the height of Yang, the seeds of Yin begin to emerge.

This is the rhythm of nature.

According to the traditional 24 Solar Terms (二十四節氣), we are currently in Xiazhi (夏至) – Summer Solstice, a time when Yang Qi reaches its fullest expression before Yin gradually begins to grow. This is a reminder that even at the height of activity, restoration has already begun.

A simple Daoyin (導引) / Qigong (氣功) practice for this Solar Term:

☯️ "Lift Heaven, Regulate the Heart"
• Stand comfortably with relaxed shoulders.
• Slowly raise both arms overhead while inhaling, gently stretching through the sides of the body.
• Exhale as you lower the arms in front of you, allowing the chest and shoulders to soften.
• Repeat 6–9 times with slow, relaxed breathing.
• Finish by placing your palms over the center of your chest (Heart area) and breathe naturally for one minute.

This gentle practice helps disperse excess Heart Fire, opens the chest, calms the Shen (spirit), and supports the transition from peak Yang toward the nourishing qualities of Yin.

Instead of asking, "How can I push harder?" consider asking:

"How can I move in harmony with nature today?"

So this week, don't rush to fix anything.

Simply notice.

How is your energy?

How is your sleep?

What feels different as the season begins to shift where you live?

Sometimes wisdom doesn't begin with doing more.

Sometimes it begins with paying attention.

Note: "Daoism" is the modern Pinyin spelling, while "Taoism" comes from the older Wade-Giles romanization. Both refer to the same ancient Chinese tradition centered on the Dao (道)—the "Way" or natural order that underlies all of life.

06/16/2026

“One who understands others has knowledge; one who understands himself has wisdom. Mastering others requires force; mastering the self needs strength.” - Tao Te Ching, Chapter 33
Knowledge, according to Lao Tzu, concerns the external world. It is the ability to understand other people, recognize patterns, predict behavior, navigate relationships, and accumulate information. Knowledge is valuable, but it remains outward-facing. Wisdom, however, is inward-facing. To understand oneself—to see one's fears, desires, attachments, ambitions, contradictions, and motivations clearly—is a far rarer achievement. Many people can analyze others with great sophistication while remaining strangers to themselves. In psychology, they call this “Solomon’s Paradox” after the Old Testament king who was renowned for his vast knowledge and cleverness but whose own personal life was a shamble of poor decisions and blindspots.
Lao Tzu rightfully suggests that self-knowledge is qualitatively different from ordinary knowledge because it transforms the knower. Knowledge expands what we know; wisdom transforms who we are.
The second distinction follows naturally from the first. Force is exerted outwardly. It compels, coerces, conquers, and controls. A ruler may command armies; a politician may manipulate public opinion; a manager may pressure employees into working overtime; a debater may overpower an opponent with clever tactics. These all require force.
Strength, by contrast, is inward mastery. It is the capacity to remain disciplined amid temptation, calm amid provocation, humble amid success, and grounded amid uncertainty. Anyone can lash out in anger; it takes strength to remain composed. Anyone can attempt to control others; it takes strength to govern oneself and let people go their own way.
This distinction appears throughout the Tao Te Ching. The sage repeatedly prefers influence over coercion, presence over domination, alignment over control. Force may achieve immediate results, but strength creates lasting harmony. Force changes circumstances; strength changes character. One conquers territory; the other conquers the ego, and thus, the will to conquer.
There is also a profound irony hidden in the passage. The world tends to admire those who master others. Lao Tzu subtly reverses the hierarchy yet again. The greater accomplishment is not to command thousands, he says, but to command oneself. A person who can remain centered when angry, generous when lacking, humble when praised, and peaceful when challenged possesses a strength that no external victory can equal.

06/16/2026

When your former kung fu teacher sabotages your husband and marriage, trauma bonds you in a relationship, uses all your money and talents for personal gain for ten years then lies about it, smear campaigns you and abuses his power to remove you from the organization:

Psychological warfare.
For years survivors of narcissistic abuse have been forced to describe their experiences using language that never truly explained what happened to them. The common vocabulary surrounding abuse began to frame these situations as dysfunctional relationships, toxic dynamics, or cycles between two people. Survivors were told that it takes two to tango. They were told they trauma bonded. They were told they stayed too long. They were told to simply move on because it was a bad breakup.

Those phrases do not just misunderstand the experience. They actively harm survivors.

When the language used to describe abuse implies mutual responsibility, it quietly shifts blame away from the predator and places it onto the victim. Survivors already struggling to understand what happened to them are then told that they participated in their own destruction. The result is not healing. The result is confusion, shame, and silence.

I know this because I lived it.

I developed the framework known as the Eight Stages of Narcissistic Psychological Warfare from lived experience. I survived a prolonged campaign of psychological abuse that nearly killed me. I survived nine su***de attempts. The person I loved turned out to be a constructed persona, and the destruction that followed did not come only from that individual. The deeper wound came from what happened after.

Every institution that was supposed to protect me failed.

Family members dismissed it. Friends told me to move on. Churches framed it as relationship conflict. First responders saw emotional distress but not the cause of it. Doctors treated the symptoms without understanding the injury. Lawyers focused on technicalities rather than psychological harm. Again and again the same message appeared in different forms. This was just a relationship problem. This was mutual dysfunction. This was something I needed to get over.

What happened to me was not a breakup. It was psychological warfare.

The most devastating part was the second wound that followed the abuse itself. Survivors often describe this as the moment when they finally reach out for help and are met with disbelief, minimization, or blame. When institutions fail to recognize the harm, the victim’s experience is erased. Their identity is questioned. Their reality is dismissed. In many cases the abuser’s narrative becomes the accepted story.

This secondary betrayal is often as damaging as the abuse itself.

For many survivors it becomes the moment where hope collapses. When the systems meant to protect you instead erase you, the isolation becomes absolute. That is why so many survivors of narcissistic abuse come dangerously close to becoming statistics. Su***de becomes a risk not only because of the abuse itself, but because the victim is left completely alone with an experience no one seems able to recognize.

I came within inches of that fate.

The concept I later described as Psychological Homicide grew out of that realization. When a person is systematically destroyed through psychological manipulation, isolation, reputational annihilation, and institutional betrayal, the end result can be death through su***de. The predator did not pull the trigger, but their campaign of psychological warfare created the conditions that made survival feel impossible.

That is why language matters so deeply.

When we describe these experiences as toxic relationships or emotional dysfunction, we erase the intentional structure behind the abuse. Survivors know instinctively that what happened to them followed a pattern. They often describe feeling as if their identity was dismantled piece by piece. Their support systems were stripped away. Their perception of reality was destabilized. Their credibility was attacked.

When enough survivors began describing the same progression, the pattern became impossible to ignore.

The Eight Stages of Narcissistic Psychological Warfare emerged from that recognition. The framework was created to describe the structured progression of tactics used by narcissistic predators to gain control over their victims and ultimately destroy their sense of self.

The first stage is Indoctrination. In this phase the abuser grooms the victim through a carefully constructed persona designed to create rapid emotional attachment. They mirror the victim’s values and vulnerabilities, presenting themselves as uniquely understanding and trustworthy. This stage establishes psychological access and lays the foundation for future control.

The second stage is Psychological Breakdown. Once attachment is secured, the abuser begins destabilizing the victim’s perception of reality. Gaslighting, contradiction, emotional volatility, and subtle humiliation erode the victim’s confidence in their own judgment. The victim begins to question themselves and increasingly relies on the abuser for interpretation of events.

The third stage is Psychological Enslavement. Control expands into the victim’s environment. The abuser isolates the victim from friends, family, and other support systems while increasing emotional or financial dependency. The victim gradually becomes trapped within a reality controlled by the abuser.

The fourth stage is Mental Reprogramming. At this point the abuser actively rewrites the victim’s identity and belief system. The victim’s memories, values, and perceptions are challenged or replaced with narratives that serve the abuser’s control. Over time the victim may internalize these distortions, sometimes defending the abuser because their understanding of reality has been manipulated.

The fifth stage is Psychological Punishment. When the victim resists or questions the abuse, retaliation follows. Rage episodes, humiliation, silent treatment, threats, and smear campaigns punish the victim for asserting autonomy. These punishments train the victim to associate independence with emotional pain.

The sixth stage is Psychological Submission. After prolonged manipulation and punishment, resistance begins to collapse. Survivors often describe this phase as emotional exhaustion or learned helplessness. Compliance becomes a survival strategy, and the victim may suppress their identity simply to avoid further harm.

The seventh stage is Psychological Captivity. Even after physical separation occurs, the psychological hold often remains. Trauma bonds, intermittent reinforcement, and hoovering attempts keep the victim emotionally tethered to the abuser. Survivors frequently struggle to understand why the connection persists despite the damage.

The final stage is Destruction and Erasure. In this phase the abuser attempts to annihilate the victim’s credibility and identity. Smear campaigns, legal manipulation, reputational sabotage, and institutional distortion are used to rewrite the story of what happened. The victim’s voice is targeted for elimination so the abuser’s narrative becomes the accepted version of events.

When survivors see these stages laid out, something powerful happens. The chaos they endured suddenly becomes recognizable. The confusion begins to lift. They realize they were not irrational, weak, or responsible for what happened to them.

They were targeted.

This framework exists to restore accuracy and dignity to survivors who have been misrepresented by the language surrounding abuse. It rejects the idea that these experiences are simply relationship problems. It recognizes them as calculated campaigns of psychological domination.

Most importantly, it gives survivors something they have often been denied.

Validation.

What happened to them was real. What they endured followed a pattern. And the harm they experienced was not the result of mutual dysfunction.

It was psychological warfare.

Daniel Ryan Cotler
From the book Voiceless No More: The Legal War on Narcissistic Abuse available on Amazon.

06/11/2026

✌️

06/09/2026

The Social Death After Narcissistic Abuse

There is a kind of death that happens before a person stops breathing.

It happens when your name is still being spoken, but the truth of who you are has been buried under a story someone else created. It happens when you are still alive, still walking, still trying to explain yourself, but the people around you have already decided they know what happened. It happens when your reputation is destroyed, your community disappears, your friendships collapse, and the person who harmed you somehow becomes the person everyone protects.

That is social death.

For many survivors of narcissistic psychological warfare, the abuse does not end when the relationship ends. In many cases, the end of the relationship is when the abuser begins the final campaign: the destruction of the survivor’s credibility, identity, and place in the world.

This is not random. It is strategic.

A narcissistic abuser understands that if they can control how people see you, they can control how people respond to you. They know that if they can make you look unstable before you speak, desperate before you ask for help, angry before you explain, dangerous before you defend yourself, then the truth will have to fight through a version of you they already created.

That is why the smear campaign is so devastating.

It does not only attack your reputation. It attacks your access to human connection. Friends become distant. Family members become suspicious. Mutual connections stop checking in. People you trusted begin repeating the abuser’s language. You feel the temperature shift in every room. Conversations become shorter. Invitations stop. Messages go unanswered. People watch you fall apart and then use your collapse as proof that something must be wrong with you.

This is how social death begins.

You are not only losing people. You are losing the version of yourself that existed in their eyes. You are losing your belonging. Your credibility. Your history with them. Your right to be complicated, hurt, confused, traumatized, and still worthy of being believed.

The survivor is forced into an impossible position. Stay silent and let the lie become permanent, or speak and be accused of being obsessed, bitter, dramatic, unstable, or unable to move on. Every attempt to clarify the truth is treated like proof of guilt. Every emotional reaction is used as evidence. Every breakdown becomes a public exhibit.

The abuser creates the wound, then points to the bleeding.

This is one of the most psychologically violent parts of narcissistic abuse. The survivor is not only trying to recover from what happened in private. They are trying to survive the public version of the abuse. They are trying to rebuild while being misunderstood. They are trying to heal while being watched. They are trying to tell the truth while other people punish them for disrupting the lie.

That kind of isolation can be lethal.

Human beings are not built to survive social erasure. We need connection. We need witnesses. We need people who can look at us in the aftermath and say, “I see what happened to you. I believe you. You are not crazy. You are not alone.” When those people disappear, the survivor can begin to feel like they are disappearing too.

This is why social death is so dangerous.

It confirms the abuser’s deepest message: no one will believe you. No one will choose you. No one will stay. No one will see past the story I told them about you.

And when enough people turn away, the survivor may begin to believe it.

They may start asking themselves if maybe they really are the problem. Maybe they are too much. Maybe they are broken beyond repair. Maybe the abuser was right. Maybe their life is not worth fighting for anymore.

That is the second wound.

The first wound is the abuse itself. The manipulation, coercion, humiliation, sexual violation, financial control, gaslighting, threats, and psychological collapse.

The second wound is what happens when the survivor finally reaches for help and finds silence. It is the people who do not call. The friends who believe the lie. The family members who choose neutrality. The institutions that refuse to listen. The community that treats the survivor’s pain like a public inconvenience.

That second wound can be more damaging than the first because it happens when the survivor is already injured.

It is one thing to be harmed by the abuser. It is another thing to be abandoned by everyone who should have understood that harm. It is one thing to survive the relationship. It is another thing to survive the aftermath, when the abuser still has your name, your image, your reputation, your social world, and your future in their hands.

This is why survivors often sound desperate to be understood.

They are not seeking attention. They are trying to recover reality. They are not refusing to move on. They are trying to reclaim the life that was taken from them. They are not obsessed with the abuser. They are trying to survive the social destruction the abuser left behind.

Social death is not drama.

It is reputational destruction. It is emotional exile. It is psychological warfare carried out through other people. It is the erasure of a survivor’s identity after the abuse has already stolen enough.

And it is one of the reasons survivors must speak.

Because silence protects the version of events that almost killed them. Silence allows the abuser’s story to become history. Silence lets the community believe it was neutral when it was actually participating in harm.

The survivor speaking is not the problem.

The smear campaign was the problem. The proxy abuse was the problem. The triangulation was the problem. The people who believed the lie without asking harder questions were the problem. The systems that refused to recognize the survivor were the problem.

This is why the language matters.

In Voiceless No More: The Legal War on Narcissistic Abuse, I write about what happens after abuse escapes the private relationship and becomes public destruction. The book gives language to the aftermath survivors are rarely allowed to name: smear campaigns, triangulation, proxy abuse, legal abuse, reputational homicide, institutional betrayal, and the social death that follows when an abuser turns the world against the person they harmed.

Because some survivors do not only have to survive the abuse.

They have to survive being erased afterward.

And until we understand social death after narcissistic abuse, we will keep asking survivors why they are still talking instead of asking who tried to bury them while they were still alive.

06/05/2026

The Toxic Mantras That Killed Them

There are phrases survivors hear after psychological abuse that sound harmless to the people saying them. They sound like advice. They sound like maturity. They sound like peace. They sound like healing. But to survivors of Narcissistic Psychological Warfare, those phrases can become another form of violence. They do not comfort. They erase. They do not help the survivor process what happened. They push the survivor back into silence before the truth has ever been fully heard.

This is how survivors disappear.

Not always all at once. Sometimes they disappear one sentence at a time. One dismissal at a time. One uncomfortable conversation at a time. One person telling them to move on. One person telling them to forgive. One person asking why they stayed. One person pretending psychological abuse was just a breakup. One person deciding the survivor’s trauma is too heavy, too repetitive, too intense, too disruptive, or too inconvenient to keep hearing.

Narcissistic Psychological Warfare thrives in silence. It survives when people refuse to name it. It grows when survivors are shamed for speaking. It continues when predators are protected by the comfort of everyone around them. It becomes lethal when survivors are forced to carry unbearable trauma alone because the world would rather hand them a mantra than confront the truth of what was done to them.

This is why we must talk about the toxic mantras that killed them.

“It was just a bad breakup.”

No. It was not just a bad breakup. A breakup does not strip a person of identity. A breakup does not systematically dismantle someone’s nervous system. A breakup does not train a person to distrust their own memory, fear their own voice, and question their own reality. A breakup does not isolate someone from support, destroy their credibility, weaponize their pain, and leave them fighting to survive inside a body that still believes danger is everywhere.

Calling Narcissistic Psychological Warfare a bad breakup is one of the most dangerous forms of minimization. It takes a system of coercion, dependency, punishment, confusion, captivity, and erasure, and reduces it to ordinary relationship pain. It tells the survivor that what nearly destroyed them was nothing more than emotional disappointment. It gives the predator the benefit of normal language while the survivor is left carrying abnormal damage.

When people call it a bad breakup, they are not describing what happened. They are protecting themselves from having to understand it.

“You need to get over it and move on.”

This is one of the most common mantras survivors hear, and one of the most damaging. It is usually spoken by people who are tired of the survivor’s pain. They may not hate the survivor. They may even believe the survivor. But they do not want to keep hearing about it. They do not want to keep sitting with trauma that does not resolve neatly. They do not want to keep being reminded that someone can be psychologically destroyed without the world intervening.

So they say, “You need to move on.”

But survivors are not refusing to move on because they enjoy suffering. They are trying to understand what happened to them. They are trying to organize the fragments. They are trying to repair a mind that was manipulated, punished, gaslighted, and rewritten. They are trying to rebuild after someone used intimacy as a weapon and then left them to explain injuries no one could see.

Moving on without truth is not healing. It is suppression. Moving on without accountability is not growth. It is erasure. Moving on before the survivor has language is not recovery. It is another demand for silence.

“You have to forgive and forget.”

Survivors do not owe forgiveness to someone who destroyed them. They do not owe forgetfulness to people who benefited from their silence. They do not owe spiritual performance to communities that could not protect them. Forgiveness cannot be demanded from a person who is still bleeding from wounds no one has fully acknowledged.

This mantra is especially dangerous because it often hides behind morality. It makes the survivor feel cruel for remembering. It makes the survivor feel unevolved for naming harm. It suggests that peace requires silence and that healing requires the survivor to stop holding the abuser accountable. But forgiveness without accountability does not free the survivor. It often frees the abuser from consequences.

Forgetting is not possible when the damage lives in the nervous system. The body remembers what the world told the survivor to release. The mind remembers what it was forced to survive. The survivor remembers because memory is evidence. Memory is protection. Memory is testimony.

A society that tells survivors to forgive and forget is often a society that wants abuse to remain easy to deny.

“Why didn’t you leave sooner?”

This question is not neutral. It is an accusation disguised as curiosity. It shifts the focus from what the abuser did to why the survivor did not escape faster. It turns captivity into choice. It turns manipulation into weakness. It turns coercion into consent.

Survivors of Narcissistic Psychological Warfare do not stay because they are weak. They stay because they have been systematically conditioned, isolated, destabilized, financially trapped, emotionally hijacked, socially discredited, and neurologically bonded to the very person harming them. They stay because the abuser created a world where leaving feels impossible, unsafe, unbearable, or even morally wrong. They stay because the person who harmed them first built a false reality that made the survivor believe love, safety, and survival were all tied to the abuser.

By the time many survivors understand what is happening, they are not simply deciding whether to leave a relationship. They are trying to escape a psychological cage built around their identity, resources, body, reputation, memory, and fear.

The better question is not, “Why didn’t you leave sooner?”

The better question is, “What was done to you that made leaving feel impossible?”

“I would have never put up with that.”

This mantra is arrogance pretending to be strength. It is spoken by people who imagine abuse as something obvious, simple, and easy to reject. They picture themselves as stronger, smarter, louder, more independent, more logical, more immune. They believe they would have seen it coming. They believe they would have left immediately. They believe the survivor must have lacked something they possess.

That belief is a lie.

Narcissistic Psychological Warfare does not begin with obvious abuse. It begins with deception. It begins with charm. It begins with mirroring. It begins with a false identity built from the survivor’s hopes, wounds, and needs. It begins with the predator performing safety before introducing danger. It begins with the predator creating attachment before punishment. It begins with the survivor believing they have found love, not realizing they have been targeted for control.

No one knows what they would tolerate after being groomed, isolated, gaslighted, punished, threatened, sleep deprived, financially destabilized, socially erased, and emotionally conditioned to believe survival depends on compliance.

“I would have never put up with that” does not help survivors. It shames them. It makes them smaller. It teaches them that if they speak, they will be judged not only for what was done to them, but for how long it took them to escape it.

These mantras are not harmless.

They are the language of erasure.

They are how society turns away from survivors without admitting it is turning away. They are how friends disguise fatigue as wisdom. They are how families avoid accountability. They are how courts minimize psychological violence. They are how communities protect abusers while pretending to be neutral. They are how survivors are told, over and over again, that their pain is too much, their story is too complicated, their trauma is too inconvenient, and their truth is too disruptive.

And for some survivors, this silence becomes lethal.

When a person is psychologically destroyed, abandoned by support systems, blamed for their own captivity, and told repeatedly to stop talking about what is killing them, death can begin to look like the only way to make the pain stop. That is why Psychological Homicide must be named. Because some deaths called su***de are the final outcome of a long campaign of psychological destruction. The weapon was not always visible. The crime scene was not always understood. But the destruction was real.

The voiceless deserved more than mantras.

They deserved recognition. They deserved protection. They deserved language. They deserved people who would stay long enough to hear the whole truth. They deserved systems that understood coercive control. They deserved friends who did not get tired of their trauma. They deserved families who did not ask them to stay quiet to keep the peace. They deserved a world that knew psychological abuse can kill.

That is why we heal loudly.

We heal loudly because silence protected too much for too long. We heal loudly because the ones who did not survive deserved to be believed while they were still alive. We heal loudly because toxic mantras do not save survivors. Truth does. Language does. Recognition does. Accountability does.

Say their names.

Tell the truth.

Narcissistic Psychological Warfare thrives in silence.

That is why we heal loudly for the ones who did not survive.

06/05/2026

Flying monkeys are not just people who “got involved.” They are the social weapons narcissists use when direct control is no longer enough.

In narcissistic psychological warfare, flying monkeys are the third parties pulled into the abuse dynamic and used to isolate, discredit, shame, monitor, pressure, or punish the survivor. Some know exactly what they are doing. Others are manipulated through selective stories, false victim narratives, staged concern, and calculated emotional appeals. But whether they understand their role or not, the impact is the same. They become extensions of the narcissist’s control.

Flying monkeys are often recruited before the survivor even realizes there is a war being waged. The narcissist plants the narrative early. They tell people the survivor is unstable, obsessive, abusive, dangerous, jealous, dramatic, or mentally unwell. They give just enough distorted information to make themselves look like the victim and the survivor look like the threat. By the time the survivor tries to speak, the room has already been poisoned.

This is how narcissists create social captivity. They do not only attack the survivor directly. They attack the survivor’s credibility, relationships, reputation, employment, support system, and sense of safety. Friends begin acting cold. Family members repeat language that sounds rehearsed. People who never asked what happened suddenly have strong opinions. Messages arrive that feel less like concern and more like surveillance. The survivor starts realizing that private information has traveled through channels they never opened. This is not coincidence. This is coordinated social destabilization.

Flying monkeys often believe they are helping. That is what makes the tactic so dangerous. Narcissists know how to weaponize empathy. They know how to perform helplessness. They know how to cry to the right people, distort timelines, omit their own cruelty, and frame the survivor’s reaction as the abuse. Then the flying monkeys repeat the narcissist’s version of events as if it is fact. They pressure the survivor to stay silent, calm down, move on, apologize, forgive, or stop “making things worse.” What they are really doing is protecting the abuser’s narrative.

This is abuse by proxy.

The survivor is no longer only fighting the narcissist. They are fighting an entire manufactured perception campaign. Every reaction gets used as evidence. Every attempt to defend themselves gets framed as instability. Every emotional response is stripped of context. The survivor is forced into the impossible position of trying to explain an invisible abuse system to people who have already been trained not to believe them.

That is why flying monkeys are so damaging. They extend the abuse beyond the relationship. They make the survivor feel surrounded. They make isolation feel permanent. They turn community into a courtroom where the survivor is constantly on trial and the narcissist gets to act as both witness and victim.

Survivors need to understand this clearly. You are not crazy because people suddenly changed toward you. You are not paranoid because the same phrases keep coming from different mouths. You are not unstable because you feel socially hunted. You are recognizing a pattern. You are seeing the machinery behind the smear campaign.

Breaking free means refusing to perform for people committed to misunderstanding you. It means documenting the pattern without exhausting yourself trying to convince every person who was recruited against you. It means knowing the difference between someone who was misled and someone who enjoys participating in your destruction. It means protecting your nervous system from people who are not seeking the truth, only access.

Flying monkeys are not neutral. Silence is not neutral. Repeating an abuser’s narrative is not neutral. Pressuring a survivor into silence is not neutral. When people become instruments of coercive control, they are part of the harm.

This is why language matters. When we name flying monkeys, smear campaigns, triangulation, abuse by proxy, and narcissistic psychological warfare, we remove the protection these tactics have always received from confusion and silence.

Survivors are not imagining it. They are not exaggerating it. They are not overreacting to “drama.”

They are surviving coordinated psychological and social destruction.

Voiceless No More: The Legal War on Narcissistic Abuse exposes these tactics, names the patterns, and gives survivors the language they were denied for far too long.

Available now on Amazon.

Choy Lee Fut Qi Gong San Diego

06/29/2026

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