“The Reality of Gaslighting: My Lived Experience”

I have to share this… so much truth is pouring out of me lately, that I am writing a book.

It’s called “When Love is Lie” and it’s to help Survivors Reclaim Their Truth after Narcissistic Abuse. (There’s a Companion Journal to go with it to help others process too.)

But… this section about Gaslighting that came out of me this morning… I do want to share because I think this is something most people don’t really understand… “what does it REALLY look like” and “how does it feel.”

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Chapter 5

Section 1: “It Wasn’t That Bad” — How They Rewrite Reality

If you asked me to name the first time I was gaslit, I’d struggle to give you an answer.

And that, in and of itself, is the first sign.

Gaslighting isn’t always dramatic or obvious. Sometimes it’s not one big lie—it’s a thousand half-truths. It’s a slow erosion of your clarity, your memory, your instincts. It’s being told something didn’t happen when you’re holding the evidence in your hands. It’s being made to feel like the problem is you for even asking. It’s confusion as a way of life.

With him, there wasn’t one clear moment where the gaslighting began. It was embedded from the start. The entire foundation was built on distortion. I just didn’t see it at first because I took him at face value. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that if I just asked enough clarifying questions, if I just gave him the benefit of the doubt, we could be on the same page. But anytime I tried to ask for clarity or accountability, he’d twist it. The energy would shift. His tone would change. It was like walking into an invisible tripwire.

The most consistent pattern was this: any time I brought up something that required him to take responsibility—about money, about honesty, about how he treated me—I became the problem.

“You Knew. I Told You. You Knew.”

One of the biggest financial gaslights happened around shared bills. I would ask him, “Why don’t you have your part of the bills this month?” And it wasn’t just a conversation—it was a shift in the entire space. The look on his face alone was enough to make me feel like I’d done something wrong.

It wasn’t, “I’m struggling this month.”

It wasn’t, “Let’s sit down and go over the bills.”

It was: “You should have known.”

He was spending money on eating out and candy… “on us”, but I was supposed to know, without a conversation, that meant he wouldn’t have his part for the bills. I didn’t know his actual income. I didn’t know his other expenses. He never showed me a budget or invited me into a shared plan. But I was somehow responsible for still knowing anyway.

It was that way from the beginning.

There was one moment, years into the relationship, where he accused me of taking advantage of him at Dollar General on one of our early dates. He said I just “threw stuff into the buggy” without asking and expected him to pay for it. And I remember thinking—that doesn’t even sound like me. I would never do that. But he was so adamant about it, but also so vague. He didn’t say what day. What items. What amount.

Until finally, he mentioned it was Easter candy. And then it clicked.

We had been shopping for Easter baskets—for his kids and mine. I remember getting excited and saying, “Oh, I always do these special Resurrection Baskets for my kids,” and then offering to include his too. He said okay. He never said no. And I would’ve gladly paid for it myself if he had expressed any concern. But instead of being honest, he pretended to be generous, then held it against me YEARS later.

Accusing me of using him for $30 of candy? Maybe $50… if I was real disrespectful that day… while conveniently forgetting the $3,000 I spent to prevent his truck being repossessed.

I realize now, he didn’t tell me the truth in the moment because he didn’t want to look like a bad dad. He couldn’t afford Easter candy. He didn’t plan to buy anything for his kids. He didn’t want me to know that. So he let me “win” that day, only to twist the memory into something ugly years later.

That’s what gaslighting does. It doesn’t just rewrite the present—it rewrites the past.

And it makes you question your own memory—even when your memory is exceptionally… especially when you’re autistic.

Caught in a Contradiction

I remember when I first saw him comment on another woman’s profile picture—fire emojis and a “wow” face. We weren’t “public” at the time, but he had told me we were exclusive. We talked every day. We saw each other every other weekend. I wasn’t seeing anyone else, and he knew that.

And when I confronted him, I didn’t come in guns blazing. I just sent the screenshot and asked, “What is this?”

His response?

Anger!

Not embarrassment. Not an apology. Not even an attempt to see how it might have hurt me.

He said, “She was going through a hard time. I was just building her confidence.”

I said, “You built her confidence at the expense of mine.”

But that didn’t matter to him. The problem, in his eyes, wasn’t what he did—it was that I noticed. It was that I asked. It was that I had feelings about it.

Another time, he told me he’d gone off on a guy who asked his ex-wife for nudes. He was proud of himself, like he’d done something honorable. But when I questioned why his ex-wife was even talking to him about another man asking for nudes—WHILE he was living in my house—he made me the problem again.

I said, “That’s not a conversation you should be having with any other woman. That’s inappropriate.”

He said, “We share kids.”

No. That’s not about the kids. That’s about keeping emotional ties to a woman who still had access to your energy. And when I told him it felt like disrespect to me, he refused to see it. That was a hill he would die on. He wanted to be her protector, even if it meant betraying me.

The Hair in the Shower

There’s one moment I’ll never forget. It was the first time I showered at his new place, after he’d moved out when we were doing a trial separation. I found three long brown hairs in his shower. My hair is short and red. His daughter has long blonde hair.

These weren’t anyone’s hair who should’ve been there.

I felt sick. My whole body knew. And still, I asked… gently. Cautiously. Terrified of the answer. I didn’t want a fight—I wanted reassurance. I wanted ANY explanation I could believe.

He said, “It’s been there the whole time. I haven’t cleaned the shower since I moved in.”

No confusion. No concern. No empathy for the fact that I was clearly shaken. Just anger. Disgust that I would even bring it up.

That was the moment I saw it all so clearly—but still couldn’t let myself fully feel it. Because to fully accept what that meant would have broken me right then. So I fawned. I gaslit myself. I tried to believe the lie.

Because that’s what gaslighting does. It trains you to reach for the lie. Because the truth feels unbearable.

When They Use You Against You

He used everything he could to justify his behavior—especially my spirituality.

When I had real reactions to real pain, he told me I wasn’t being “high vibe.”

When I cried, when I got angry, when I set boundaries—he said I was low vibrational.

He mocked my awakening, told me that I’d go to the “looney bin” if I spoke about it outloud. He told the men from his church said I was possessed by demons.

He said I was going to hell because I got a tattoo—even though he had three of his own.

If was actually concerned about my well-being and mental health, why didn’t he try to help me. Instead he just talked about me to ones he knew would validate his negative opinion of me.

I gave. I believed. I adjusted. And he shamed. He judged. He mocked.

He didn’t want a spiritual partner. He wanted a compliant one.

He didn’t want my empathy. He wanted my silence.

The Madness of Having to Explain Reality

Gaslighting makes you feel insane.

I was living in two worlds: the one everyone else could see, and the one he insisted was real.

One world said, He’s abusive. This isn’t normal. You deserve better.

His world said, He didn’t mean it. You’re overreacting. You’re confused.

And the more I tried to explain my reality to him, the crazier I felt. Because it wasn’t just that he disagreed. It was that he refused to let it exist at all.

The People Who Tried to Save Me

So many people tried to pull me out of this.

My coworkers, my mom, my friends and family, counselors… even other men who wanted to date me but who I always turned down to stay with him.

My coworker—more like a second mother to me—saw me lose myself in real time. She saw the cycles. The devastation. The way I would completely collapse after each explosion. She said, “He’s a waste of good air.” And she meant it. And she loved me enough to say that he didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as me. She despised him for what he did to me.

My mom eventually wouldn’t even let him in her house. She’d survived abuse too. She could see the signs. And she refused to cosign mine.

Even his presence at my work events or family gatherings would trigger discomfort. People felt it. They saw it. And that helped keep me grounded—because if they saw it too, then I wasn’t crazy.

Final Truth

Gaslighting is not just about being lied to. It’s about being made to feel like the lie is your fault.

It’s about being so disoriented that you start rewriting your own memories to match their story.

It’s about being told you’re the one hurting them when you dare to speak your truth.

And eventually, it’s about realizing:

They didn’t just gaslight you. They trained you to gaslight yourself.

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I’m telling you… this one chapter alone is going to be so powerful in breaking the spell of the illusion for others too. You aren’t crazy… but the goal really is to make you think you are. It’s having to live 2 completely contrasting realities that never get to merge. That’s what makes you feel crazy. You and everyone around sees one version… they insist that everyone else is wrong but them, and you clearly don’t love them if you believe others (and your own memory) over them. It is literal crazy-making. And it does a lot of psychological damage.