Welcome to the Gaslight District…

Four years ago I was finalizing plans to move to Colorado—I had been accepted into my top choice for graduate programs and made an offer on a house where I could begin the next chapter of my life. I left for Colorado chasing the belief that I could turn my grief into something meaningful. I believed that I could build a new life for myself and help others discover their resiliency. In the early days of grief, I needed to hold on to the hope that things could get better.

I believed that if I worked hard enough, things would get better. I was afraid to experience all of the anger I felt inside, and fearful of standing still. I thought I could keep moving and not get stuck. I was wrong. Resiliency takes more than personal will power.

When I speak with clients about trauma, I often describe a traumatic event as a moment of chaos that fractures our understanding of the world as a just and fair place. In the aftermath of trauma, we are left trying to collect the pieces of what we once knew and reassemble meaning out of the sharp, painful shards left behind. Realistically, that healing process is slow and difficult. It is reasonable and expected to encounter setbacks. These are all things I know rationally, and emotionally. I don’t expect fair.

From a clinical perspective, when we look at healing in the wake of trauma, research shows us that resiliency is strongly influenced by social support networks that attend to the reality of trauma,  normalize grief, and promote healing. Noticeably missing from this environment are shame, blame, and dismissing how a person feels.

But what happens when a person tries to heal in toxic systems that thrive on blame and invalidation?

This question has been swirling in my convoluted mind for a while, trying to sort through my experiences and observations. What I see culturally mirrors my own experience in dealing with toxic people and environments. At the center of these toxic situations is gaslighting—a process of psychological manipulation that makes the recipient of abuse question his or her sanity. From my perspective, gaslighting feels like a rampant part of our culture—a culture in which many people are trying to heal from devastating life events while facing blame and invalidation.

Personally, my grieving process feels tangled in toxic snares. I feel like I am trying to build strength and hope while I’m being torn apart. I feel discredited before I am ever considered worthy. As I imagine so many others feel as well. My best attempts to move forward and make more of my life have been met with challenges that are deeply painful. I keep thinking I should be in a better place emotionally by now, and yet I only seem to feel more and more depressed. The more depressed and ashamed I feel, the more I “hustle for worthiness” (a term coined by Brene Brown). This hustle makes me a solid target for toxic behaviors.

Most of my life I have been taught to think about what others think and feel. To be kind and considerate. I used to think those were good attributes. Every asset has its liabilities-- being concerned with what others think and feel has often meant stifling what is real for me. In grieving, I have been afraid to own my story for fear of making others uncomfortable or pitying me. I distance myself so other people don’t have to deal with my pain and depression. I struggle to admit my anger. And I question myself when someone tells me not to feel that way.

Gaslighting is a blame game. One that assigns responsibility to the person who is hurting. I am so tired of blaming myself and being told it’s not okay for me to be angry or sad. I have made plenty of mistakes in the last four years chasing my idea of healing. I have experienced disappointment, after disappointment. I have been told over and over again by people I thought I could trust that I am too much (or not enough), that I ask for unreasonable things, and that what I need does not matter. This has been a pattern in my life since arriving in Colorado.

One of my first experiences in my graduate program was to be manipulated, insulted, and emotionally abused by a faculty member. This person told me listening to me speak was a “mind fuck” and continually criticized my inability to meet expectations that were ill-defined. The feedback I received at the end of the semester was that I lacked empathy and that I had, at best, the ability to be a good counselor, but never a great counselor. When I asked another faculty member for help understanding how to handle the situation, I was told my reaction was the problem—that essentially it was all in my head.

That is the subtle art of gaslighting--- to cause you pain while also assigning you the blame. The damaging party never takes ownership.

I spent the next year trying to prove that I could be a great counselor—if only I hustled hard enough. I agonized over taking comprehensive exams and achieving a score high enough to show the faculty I wasn’t worthless. I still question if I am good at being a counselor—rational or not, those experiences haunt how I see my performance.

Another key function of gaslighting is creating high expectations while withholding the resources to meet those expectations. It sets up impossible scenarios in which you fail no matter what you do. At the VA, we were given 30 minute appointment slots, told we could not be late while simultaneously expected to provide due diligence and care to clients in crisis. (It takes more than 30 minutes to assist a suicidal client, in case you are wondering). This is just one of many examples of the unethical and paralyzing practices that made client care impossible. And yet, when I left the VA I blamed myself for not being strong enough to meet those expectations.

In both examples, the reality of what I experienced was overshadowed and refuted by an illusion of expertise that is grossly unearned. Gaslighting places the sins of those in power on the people without power—then tells them they are crazy for being angry, upset, or confused over the incongruence.

What I have learned in the last four years is that there are few places in our culture where gaslighting is not a part of the norm. I encountered some of the most painful manipulation in places focused on mental health care. Finding supportive environments is the exception rather than the rule. Advocating for basic respect and support has meant standing alone more often than not.

Systemically, movements like MeToo and Black Lives Matter are met with contention and alienation by those with privilege. The arguments against these movements are gaslighting at its finest. They turn reality on its head and label rational requests as emotional and unfounded. People are asking to not be hurt anymore while those with power claim they have the inalienable right to hurt others

So perhaps the reality of healing is marred by infectious, toxic wounds that fester rather than fade. 

Personally and systemically, I am done with the manipulation and blame. And I think I get to be angry every time I trip over the bullshit. I think other people have that right too. I keep trying to be worthy in a world where everything I do is never enough to matter and I am exhausted.

Until someone else knows what it means to stand alone at the grave of a man who died too young. Until you wake up alone every morning. When you’ve lost the dream of having children. When people deceive you, hurt you, then throw you away. When you don’t have a job. When you offer people hope you don’t have. When you watch peoples’ eyes glaze over with boredom and disconnection every time you talk. When you keep trying to do better, despite everything… and you are doing it alone… maybe then I’ll consider any arguments about why I can’t be angry and tired.

I’ve never wanted pity or coddling, I’ve simply wanted to be valued for being willing to show up and try. Like most humans, I have just wanted to be seen for the reality of who I am without being told it’s too much, or not enough. I felt that with Chris. Every time I hit an obstacle, the pain of missing him resurfaces. I’ll never know if I was ever enough for him, and that scares me.

If I could heal the world, I would take away the place where we use such painful measures to hurt each other. I hope enough of us get tired of living in such toxic spaces that we stop participating in the crap. I hope we can stop seeing other peoples’ emotions as a threat and start acknowledging the dysfunction where it exists. Imagine what a healing world we could create.  

I’ll be waiting, with my running shoes on, if anyone cares to join me.