Text Messages I Send to My Narcissist Family’s Flying Monkeys (The Best Repellent You’ll Find)

When my cousin texted me, “Your mother is heartbroken and just wants her daughter back,” I knew exactly what game we were playing.

This wasn’t a concern; it was a guilt missile, perfectly aimed and launched from someone who had no idea what really happened behind closed doors.

But here’s what changed everything: I finally had the right words to send back.

For years, I scrambled to defend myself every time a flying monkey swooped in with their “innocent” questions and guilt campaigns.

I’d write paragraphs explaining my side, desperately trying to make them understand why I couldn’t just “forgive and forget.”

Every explanation became ammunition. Every defense made me look guilty.

Every time I tried to prove I wasn’t the villain in their narrative, I handed them exactly what they wanted: my emotional energy and my power.

The day I stopped explaining myself was the day I became untouchable.

Now, when they text, I have a playbook. Not because I’m cruel, but because I’m strategic.

Not because I don’t care, but because I care about my peace more than their approval.

I documented exactly how to handle these situations because learning to communicate from a position of strength instead of defensiveness changed everything for me.

These aren’t just text messages. They’re boundaries with teeth.

They’re your ticket to never feeling powerless in these conversations again.

Here’s exactly what I send when the flying monkeys come calling.

3 Types of Flying Monkey Messages (And My Exact Responses)

After four years of dealing with these ugly and manipulated tactics, I can spot a flying monkey message miles away.

They all follow the same playbook, just with different emotional manipulation strategies.

Here are the three types that show up in my inbox and the exact responses that shut them down every single time.

1. The Guilt Bomber: “She’s Your Mother/Sister/Family”

This is their nuclear option. Pure, concentrated guilt delivered straight to your conscience.

The guilt bomber’s job is to make you feel selfish and heartless.

They want you spiraling, second-guessing yourself, writing emotional novels that prove you’re “unstable” or “holding grudges.”

But here’s what I learned: You don’t owe anyone a dissertation on your trauma.

My response acknowledges their feelings without taking the bait.

I’m not defending my choice because my choice doesn’t need defending. I’m not explaining myself because my explanation isn’t owed.

The first time I sent a response like this, I waited for the follow-up guilt bomb. It never came.

Because guilt bombers need your emotional reaction to keep the game going.

2. The Information Gatherer: “What Really Happened?”

This one pretends to be neutral, just trying to “understand both sides.”

I almost fell for it. Tey had always been kind to me, and she seemed genuinely confused.

I started typing out the whole story, the stolen money, the lies, the way my sister orchestrated turning everyone against me.

Then I remembered something. Tey lived three hours away and barely kept in touch with our family.

Why was she suddenly so invested in “understanding” a situation that had nothing to do with her?

I deleted my explanation and stand firm on my boundary instead.

Two weeks later, my father told me Tey had been asking him detailed questions about “my version of events” and whether he thought I was “telling the truth.”

She wasn’t seeking understanding. She was conducting an investigation.

Information gatherers are the most dangerous flying monkeys because they seem reasonable.

They make you feel heard while gathering ammunition. Every detail you share gets analyzed, twisted, and reported back to headquarters.

Now I tell them exactly where to get their information, from the source. Not from me.

3. The Peacemaker: “Can’t We All Just Get Along?”

This flying monkey wants to fast-track you back into dysfunction in the name of “family harmony.”

“She’s learned her lesson,” Pov would say. “She’s really changed. Don’t you want your son to know his aunt?”

Pov painted my boundary as stubbornness and my peace as selfishness.

She made reconciliation sound noble, and my decision to stay away sound petty.

But here’s what peacemakers never understand: I’m not avoiding my sister because I’m holding a grudge.

I’m protecting myself because I know exactly who she is.

The peacemaker response I use now is final. It’s not “maybe someday” or “we’ll see.” It’s “I won’t be changing my mind.” Period.

Pov stopped calling after I started using this response.

Because peacemakers need hope that you’ll eventually crack. When you remove that hope, they move on to easier targets.

My Exact Scripts That Make Flying Monkeys Back Off

Copy these word-for-word. Save them in your notes. Use them the next time a flying monkey lands in your inbox.

Notice what all these responses have in common?

They’re short, clear, and give no ammunition for further drama.

They don’t explain, justify, or defend.

They simply state your position and end the conversation.

Learning to communicate this strategically was a game-changer, which is why I made it a cornerstone of helping other survivors who want to rebuild their confidence and reclaim their power.

The most important script of all? The one you send to yourself: “I don’t owe anyone access to my peace.”

Because that’s the truth that changes everything.

You don’t owe explanations, justifications, or second chances to people who chose to participate in your abuse.

You owe yourself the life you deserve.

And that life starts with protecting your energy from people who don’t respect your boundaries.

These responses aren’t meant. They’re strategic. They’re not cold, they’re powerful.

And they work.

The Strategic Rules That Keep Me Untouchable

These responses work because they follow three non-negotiable rules I learned the hard way.

Break these rules, and you’ll be right back in their drama trap.

Rule #1: Never JADE (Justify, Argue, Defend, Explain)

The moment you start justifying your decisions or explaining your reasons, you’ve already lost.

My JADE Disaster: Last Christmas, my uncle texted about how “family should be together for the holidays.” Instead of a clean boundary, I wrote him a three-paragraph essay about the betrayal, why I couldn’t be around my sister, and why my choice was reasonable.

His response? “But that was over a year ago. Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

By the end of our text exchange, I felt crazy.

He had me questioning whether I was overreacting, whether maybe I should just “try to work things out.”

The Power of the Non-JADE Response: This year, I sent: “I won’t be attending family events where she’s present. I hope you have a lovely Christmas.”

No explanation. No justification. Just a clear statement.

He responded with “But why?” I didn’t respond at all.

Because “why” is JADE bait, the moment you answer, you’re back in the defendant’s chair.

This communication shift was one of the most powerful tools I developed after going no contact.

I actually documented everything, so I can help other survivors build this exact skillset.

Learning to resist the urge to explain yourself is like breaking an addiction, but it’s the only way to stay free.

Rule #2: Stay Factual, Not Emotional

Flying monkeys feed on your emotions. They want you angry, hurt, or defensive.

My Emotional Response Era: “You have no idea what she put me through! She destroyed my life while I was pregnant!”

My Factual Response Now: “I’m not available for this conversation.”

The emotional response gives them everything they need to paint me as “dramatic.”

The factual response gives them nothing to work with.

Rule #3: Set Consequences and Follow Through

Six months ago, my cousin kept pushing me to “call your sister and work this out.”

The third time, I said: “If you continue to push this topic, I won’t be able to continue our relationship.”

She laughed it off. Two weeks later, she texted again about reaching out to my sister.

I blocked her number.

Flying monkeys respect strength, not kindness.

When you prove you’re serious about consequences, they either respect your limits or remove themselves from your life.

Either outcome is a win.

What Happened When I Started Using These Responses?

The first time I sent a boundary-setting text instead of a three-paragraph explanation, my hands were shaking.

It felt wrong, like I was being the cold person they already said I was.

The Immediate Fallout:

Some flying monkeys got more aggressive.

My aunt escalated from “innocent questions” to accusations: “Your silence speaks volumes. We all see who you really are now.”

Others tried different angles, guilt, anger, then sympathy: “Your mother’s health is declining. Don’t you want to make peace before it’s too late?”

But Here’s What Also Happened:

Three flying monkeys stopped texting entirely after my first non-JADE responses.

My cousin, who sent monthly “family update” guilt trips? Complete radio silence.

The self-appointed family peacemaker moved on to easier targets.

Within six months, the guilt campaigns stopped completely.

The Long-Term Victory:

I stopped dreading my phone notifications.

I used to see a family member’s name and immediately feel my chest tighten.

Now I check texts without anxiety because I know exactly how to handle whatever they send.

This boundary-setting framework became the foundation for everything I teach about rebuilding your life after narcissistic abuse.

When you communicate from strength instead of defensiveness, it changes every relationship you have.

Now I live in a beautiful house with a husband who thinks I’m amazing exactly as I am.

My son grows up where nobody walks on eggshells, where love doesn’t come with conditions.

Meanwhile, my narcissist sister is still trying to convince people I’m the problem, still living a life she’s not proud of.

But I’m too busy being happy to care about winning their approval.

The mental energy I used to waste crafting perfect responses?

I now spend building a business, raising my son, and creating the exact life I want.

That’s what happens when you stop explaining yourself to people who were never going to understand anyway.