The day everything made sense

By the time I had a name for it, I’d already learned to blame myself for everything.

It’s strange looking back now and realising how long I lived inside the fog. At first, I just thought work had become harder, new leadership, different priorities, the usual chaos.

But over time, the confusion crept in like damp. I started apologising for things I hadn’t done wrong. I began to doubt my own memory. I told myself I was tired. Stressed. Maybe not cut out for senior leadership after all.

When someone finally said the word gaslighting to me, I almost laughed. It sounded dramatic, like something from a film.

But then I started reading. Every description matched what I’d been living: Information quietly withheld. Meetings moved or cancelled without me. My ideas questioned until someone else repeated them. Being told I was “too direct” when I tried to clarify the truth. I realised I’d been trained to mistrust myself.

That’s what gaslighting does, it replaces your reality with theirs, one small denial at a time. Naming it didn’t fix everything. It hurt, actually. It meant admitting that what I’d hoped was misunderstanding was, in fact, manipulation.

But it also gave me language. And once you can name something, you can face it.

If you’re starting to suspect you’re being gaslit, don’t rush to label it for anyone else’s comfort.

Read, observe, and most importantly trust the quiet part of you that knows when something isn’t right. That part of you is still there, waiting to be believed.