Most people now realize that gaslighting someone is an attempt to disconnect them from a basic belief in themselves and their reality. In a real light situation, the assailant will often say things like, “Are you sure this is what happened?” I don’t remember it that way. Or maybe it would be like this: I think you took my words a little too seriously. You are too sensitive and don’t know how to take a joke. In extreme situations, the abuser indicates that something is wrong with the victim, and that she needs professional help.

I’m familiar with this phenomenon because my narcissistic ex did it all the time. His favorite method was to try to argue a pointless point for hours on end, while insisting that I was crazy. But here’s the really crazy thing: I knew when he was doing it. Little did I know that I had gotten really good at doing it myself. I questioned my memories a lot. Sometimes, my mind would go completely blank and I would think, in my numbness and dissociation, that maybe it wasn’t so bad.

It just really was. So, here are the ways narcissistic abuse survivors use to gaslight themselves. Honestly, sometimes even really well-meaning family members join in. There may be more than just four, but these are the ones I’m really good at.

Gaslight Lie #1: I have to be done with this now.

My divorce became final seventeen and a half years ago. I haven’t lived with my ex for almost twenty years. Gaslight, don’t you know that? I still get triggered sometimes. My latest trigger was the realization that an acquaintance of mine was the victim of very serious abuse and didn’t even know it. It was like walking and talking to myself in some ways. I even witnessed an exchange between the couple that left me hurting and shaking for a few days. It was just a text message.

It wasn’t about them. The meanness and control were familiar to me. My body still remembers things that my mind has at least somewhat come to terms with. I’ve learned this: healing from trauma, spiritual growth, and achieving any real maturity are usually measured in decades. Sometimes friends and family will try to encourage you and say it’s all in the past now. I even say that to myself. But time doesn’t heal anything. Jesus and intentionally seeking healing do just that. And it takes a long time. a period.

Gaslight Lie #2: It probably wasn’t abuse. Maybe it was just a bad game.

This reduces misuse for one simple reason. Admitting that the person who was supposed to love you tried to tear you apart piece by piece is painful. The truth hurts. The following questions are not usually legitimate questions but should be asked and answered anyway. Was it my fault? Is there something wrong with me? Could I have prevented this? These are just more iterations of the ways we highlight ourselves.

this is the truth. Your husband knew what he was doing. They chose to do so. You are in no way responsible for their actions. Whenever I doubt myself or my version of events, I recount specific occasions. I remember the time he barged into the bathroom while I was in the bathroom, carrying a gun, threatening to kill my dog ​​if I didn’t get rid of him that day. I remember the ugly names. I remember the animals he hurt. I remember. And it’s okay if you do that too. We don’t need to think about it in order to live in anger. We remember so we can be wiser next time. So we don’t ignore red flags and contractions in our intestines. We remember to survive and, ultimately, to thrive.

Gaslight Lie #3: I should have handled everything differently.

I still wonder why I didn’t inform the judge of the extent of the abuse. This is so I can remember how deep the trauma bond is. I couldn’t even tell myself what was really going on, let alone the judge. We question ourselves and our supposed weaknesses over and over again. In fact, coming out may require every bit of courage and effort you have. If you don’t break that trauma bond immediately, if you don’t immediately lose the fear they’ve tried so hard to instill over the years, you still deserve an incredible amount of credit for confronting your abuser and leaving.

Sometimes the family gets involved in this matter, asking us questions about why we didn’t call a lawyer sooner? Why didn’t we call the police? Or worse: Why didn’t we leave sooner? Believe me, I’ve asked myself these questions and I still get the same answer. Being abused by a malignant narcissist or sociopath means remaining a prisoner mentally, physically, financially, and emotionally. The only one who can get us out of our prison is us. Give yourself a break. Gaslight and tell your family to back off.

Gaslight Lie #4: I should stop talking about it. If I get over it, I won’t have to talk about it.

The only cure for the kind of cognitive dissonance that occurs when a spouse turns out to be your enemy is what psychologists call rumination. We tell our stories over and over again to help our minds wrap their heads around the depth of betrayal. I’m not saying that you should bore all your friends by repeating the same thing over and over again. I’m saying you should have one or two people who love you enough to rehash and rehash. We need people to help us normalize what is abuse and what is not. Or you need to pay for a counselor who will listen to you and not try to fix you. You are not broken; You reform the way people reform, by telling your story.

Eventually, you will come to terms with your story. I told my wonderful husband my story that night; The one about my beautiful boxer, Brain, that I had to get rid of. I said that without anger. The words came out peacefully, but sadly. I’m sad for her. But sadness is an old friend of mine. I’m even friends with Anger. Twenty years later, there’s no need to pretend I don’t know them. I hug them when they come to visit and send them away when they are ready to leave. But I’m still here and Jesus keeps me steady, and doesn’t let my feet waver now that I’m completely His. And he still listens to my story.