Four Ways We Gaslight Ourselves after Abuse

By now, most people realize that to gaslight someone is to attempt to separate them from a core belief in themselves and their reality. In a genuine gaslighting situation, an abuser will often say things like Are you sure that is how it happened? I don’t remember it that way. Or perhaps it will go like this: I think you took my words just a little too seriously. You are just too sensitive and don’t know how to take a joke. In extreme situations, the abuser suggests that something is really wrong with the victim, that they need professional help.

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

Only it really was. So here are the ways in which the survivors of narcissistic abuse gaslight themselves. To honest, sometimes even really well-intentioned family members join in. There may be more than just four, but these are the ones I got really good at.

Gaslight lie #1: I should be over this by now.

My divorce became final seventeen and a half years ago. I haven’t lived with my ex for almost twenty years. And wouldn’t you know it; I still get triggered sometimes. My last hard trigger was realizing that an acquaintance was a victim of pretty 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 pair that left me achy and shaking for a couple of days. And it was just a text message.

It wasn’t about them. The meanness and control were all too familiar to me. My body still remembers things that my mind has at least somewhat reconciled. I have learned this: Healing from trauma, spiritual growth, and attaining any real maturity is usually measured in decades. Sometimes friends and family will try to encourage and say All that is in the past now. I even say that to myself. But time doesn’t heal anything. Jesus and intentionally seeking healing does. And it takes just as long as it takes. Period.

Gaslight lie #2: Maybe it wasn’t abuse. Maybe it was just a bad match.

This is minimizing the abuse for one simple reason.  Admitting that someone who was supposed to love you tried to tear you apart piece by piece hurts. Really hurts. And the questions that follow are not usually legitimate questions but they must be asked and answered anyway. Was it my fault? Is there something wrong with me? Could I have prevented it? These are just more iterations of the ways in which we gaslight ourselves.

Here is the truth. Your spouse knew what he or she was doing. They chose to do it. You are not in any way responsible for their actions. Whenever I doubt myself or my version of events, I recount certain occasions. I remember the time he burst into the bathroom while I was in the bath, holding a shotgun, threatening to kill my dog if I didn’t get rid of it that day. I remember the foul names. I remember the animals he hurt. I remember.  And it’s ok if you do, too. We don’t need to mull over them in order to live in wrath. We remember so that we are wiser the next time. So we don’t ignore the red flags and the clenching in our gut. We remember to survive and eventually, thrive.

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

I still wonder why I didn’t let the judge know about the extent of the abuse. That is until I remember how deep a trauma bond can go. I couldn’t even tell myself what was really going on, much less a judge. We question ourselves and our supposed weakness over and over. In truth, getting out can take every bit of courage and effort you have. If you didn’t break that trauma bond right away, if you didn’t lose the fear they tried so hard to inculcate over the years right away, you still deserve an incredible amount of credit for facing your abuser and leaving.

Sometimes the family gets in on this one, peppering us with questions about why didn’t we call a lawyer sooner? Why didn’t we call the police? Or the worst one: Why didn’t we leave sooner? Believe me, I have asked these questions of myself and I still come up with the same answer. To be abused at the hands of a malignant narcissist or sociopath is to be held prisoner mentally, physically, financially, and emotionally. And the only one who can break us out of our prison is us. Give yourself a break. And tell your family to back off.

Gaslight lie #4: I should stop talking about it. If I was over it, I wouldn’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 to help our minds wrap themselves around the depth of the betrayal. I’m not saying that you should bore all of your friends by repeating the same thing over and over. I am saying that you should have one or two people that love you enough to rehash and rehash. We need people to help us renormalize what is abuse and what isn’t. Or you need to pay a counselor who will listen and not try to fix you. You aren’t broken; you are mending the way people mend, by telling your story.

And eventually, you will come to terms with your story. I told my wonderful husband my story the other night; the one about my beautiful boxer, Brin, that I had to get rid of. I told it without fury. The words came out peacefully, but still with sorrow. I am sad about her. But sadness is an old friend of mine. I am even friends with anger. Twenty years later, I don’t have to pretend I don’t know them. I embrace them when they come to visit and send them off when they are ready to leave.  But I am still here and Jesus keeps me firm, does not suffer my foot to be moved now that I am fully His. And He still listens to my story.

Gaslighting 101: Eight Signs You’re a Victim

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