After Prissy left the church and sent out her resignation letter stating that the church was no longer a safe place for her, two women I had been friends with for quite some time unfriended me on social media and acted coldly toward me in church. I had never done anything to either of these women, as far as I could tell, and based on information my lawyer gathered and others shared with me, their response was a direct reaction to texts they received and phone calls they had with Prissy and two other "flying monkeys," Amara and Jasper.
At this point, I was more disappointed in humanity than in any one person.
It was extremely hurtful to see people act cruelly toward me —a victim of abuse— based solely on gossip. I kept witnessing people believe gossip and take actions based on it—people who had known me for years and shared numerous good times with me.
When I hear gossip, I seldom think less of the person being talked about—but I almost always think less of the person gossiping. ~ Ekho
To me, gossip reflects the character of the gossiper, not their victim. I am not one to gossip. In fact, I rarely speak negatively about anyone, even people I dislike, because I believe it reflects on my character. Mature, self-assured, confident, and well-adjusted people don’t gossip. Instead, I have found that it is the immature, insecure, jealous, and spiteful who smear others to feel important.
I have written in-depth about these women, mostly in my posts about "flying monkeys," so I won’t repeat what they said and did. Suffice it to say, they acted very immaturely and have since stopped attending church.
From my seminary days, I know that one hallmark of an unhealthy church—or even a personality cult—is when people leave because a prominent figure stops attending or is held accountable for wrongdoing.
This reveals that those individuals were coming for that person, not to be part of the church and its mission. Churches that experience substantial losses after the departure or accountability of a prominent figure rarely survive past the five-year mark.
Sadly, I believe my church falls into this category. Many in the community have labeled it a cult. While I don’t agree with that characterization, the attachment some people had to Prissy and my narcissist was unsettling. When people are willing to set aside their values and revictimize someone just to maintain the status quo, it’s a clear sign of a church in distress.
That said, many people in the church are wonderful, ethical, caring, and value-driven. These individuals have become my true confidants. My two best friends attend the church, and several of my long-term role models are regular attendees. For the most part, those not directly connected to my narcissist and Prissy have been kind and welcoming. They embody the church’s core principles and values, which we recite each week.
After a few rough weeks, life seemed to be getting back to normal. I was living my best life and healing from years of narcissistic abuse. My partner and I were spending quality time together, traveling, making plans for the future, sharing the most intimate parts of our lives, and simply falling in love. In hindsight, those months were some of the happiest of my life.
It was such a relief not to constantly worry about what my narcissist was up to. I no longer spent my time wondering if he was cheating on me with his students, gossiping about me to my friends and family, triangulating me with his first ex-wife, or plotting behind my back. For the first time in years, I had a partner who loved and respected me deeply. I was happy—truly, profoundly happy—in a way I had never experienced before. I also felt a level of safety I hadn’t felt in years.
At the church, I was actively participating and serving on several committees. My best friend and I had organized an Easter event that drew around 40 community members, including over 25 children. The church seemed to be stabilizing, and people were starting to relax. I thought that, finally, things were headed in the right direction and my life would be free of narcissistic drama.
But, as survivors of narcissistic abuse know all too well, this is rarely the case.
Just when you think it’s safe to let down your guard and enjoy your life, a flying monkey shows up to remind you that the smear campaign is far from over—and that’s exactly what awaited me next.
