Gaslighting: When you start apologizing for existing

Toward the end, I said it often. “I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

I started noticing small things. Tone of voice, glances, phrasing. Things I had never really paid attention to before.Suddenly, I became cautious. Careful. I reread every message before sending it. Weighed every word. Rewrote, deleted, rewrote again. Would this land right? Could it be misunderstood?

I started apologizing for things I didn’t even know I had done – or had I done them? I started agreeing with things I never used to agree with. I no longer knew who I was.

That spontaneous, laughing part of me had gone quiet.

Sleep became shallow. I woke up with a weight on my chest and the sense that I was already wrong.

I began picking up on every glance, every movement, every small shift in tone. A furrowed brow. They way a “hmm” was expressed. Was it going to be a good day? Or a bad one? Had I done something? Forgotten something? Would there be a loving message – or cold words that sent shivers through my body?

I began to doubt my memories. Began wondering if I had overreacted. Maybe I had exaggerated. Maybe I was just too sensitive.

In the evenings, there was a quiet kind of anxiety – like soft claws scratching inside my chest. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t put it into words anymore.

And eventually... I was no one.

I learned to read the room faster than my heart could beat. It became a way to survive – to not trigger anything.To not ruin the silence. There were eggshells everywhere. And I learned how to walk without a sound. Because I knew: a blink, a breath, a misplaced word – and hell could break loose.

How did I end up here?

Phone notifications gave me heart palpitations. Silence gave me anxiety. In the mirror, I saw eyes without light. I flinched at loud sounds and sudden movements. Everything in me was on alert. All the time.

And her – the happy, curious version of me – she was gone. Even when the sun was shining, even when the sky was blue, even when warmth wrapped around my skin –the light didn’t reach inside. Inside, it was cold. Inside, it was dark.

I never had the thought that I wanted to end my life. But in the darkness, at a crosswalk, one quiet thought appeared:

“If an accident happened now, and I got hit by a car – that would be okay.”

And in that exact moment, a call came. A call that reminded me of what was beautiful.That reminded me of the little things in life.The light breaking through the grey clouds.That’s when I saw an autumn leaf slowly falling with elegance toward the ground –just like I used to notice.

Right then, I understood – and I knew: It was time to leave.

I had no idea this was a real thing. That it had a name.

Gaslighting.

I thought it was just me. That I was difficult. That I was too sensitive.

That something was wrong with me – that I was the one who couldn’t make it work.

But gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation – where someone slowly makes you doubt your own reality. What you’ve seen. What you’ve heard. What you feel, remember, know.

It’s not always loud – quite the opposite. It’s subtle. Clever. Quiet. And dangerous.

Suddenly you wonder if it really was that bad. If maybe you overreacted. You start questioning if your boundaries are too much. You begin to apologize – for having been hurt.

Some signs of gaslighting:

• You doubt your memories and your perception.

• You apologize for everything.

• Your mind never rests – always searching for the truth beneath the confusion.

• You’re afraid of being labeled sensitive, dramatic, or crazy.

• You adapt – more and more – just to keep the peace.

And it leaves a mark.

Living with gaslighting over time changes something in you. Not because you’re weak – but because you’ve adapted to survive. And the things that helped you then, can make it hard to feel free now.

Many who’ve been through it say:

• The self-doubt lingers, even after the relationship is over.

• You feel unsure in new relationships – afraid of being misunderstood or questioned.

• You constantly seek validation, even in small decisions.

• You become overly careful around conflict.

• Your body stays tense – racing heart, anxiety, sleep issues.

• You feel ashamed that you didn’t "see it" sooner.

• And maybe most of all: You lose touch with your inner voice – the one that says: “This doesn’t feel right.” Or “This is what I want.”

You will get back. Slowly. In your own time.

Healing doesn’t begin with big steps. It starts with small moments – when you carefully begin to listen to yourself again.

Here’s how you might begin:

• Start by acknowledging your experience. Say to yourself: “What I went through was not okay.” Not to stay stuck in it – but to reclaim your truth.

• Start feeling again. What feels true to me? What do I long for? What do I need right now?

• Create safety – inside and out. Routines that calm. People who truly see you.Pauses that let you breathe. Slow down.

• Write. Think out loud. Dare to put words to it. Write down memories, emotions, thoughts – not to make sense of it all, but to say:“This is mine.”

• Stop explaining yourself to people who don’t want to understand. Stop proving what you already know is true in you.

• I’ve made the journey. And I’m still on it. There are days when I still doubt.But there are also moments when something quietly shifts.

When you begin to see the colors again. When you feel the wind on your skin – and it feels real. When you hear your own voice – and it doesn’t tremble. When you say no – and mean it, and the other person hears you. When you realize you’re no longer apologizing for simply being.

And maybe most of all: When you begin to recognize yourself again.

It’s not you.

Do you recognize yourself in this? Are you in the middle of breaking free? Or have you made it out and are now trying to find your way back to yourself?

Don’t hesitate to reach out to me at victoria@victoriaj.se.

You are not alone.