My father gaslit me so much, I cannot even go pass a smokers´ sections anymore. I, literally, should tattoo flammable on my ass. For my father, gaslighting was the Reverse-Uno of psychological abuse and one of his favorite tools. You could not tell him he was bad, if anything, he was just flawed or lost, and you were an asshole for not seeing that. For example, it is not that he committed bigamy he just got lost in a destination wedding and happened to say yes to a woman in a wedding dress. Till this day, I cannot believe he left a whole ass family, in secret, and booked a flight… WHOA!
When you really think about gaslighting it is about out feeling the feeling before you.My dad was a narcissist, and I, in perspective, think he was a sadist because he took a lot of pleasure in making women cry, but hey… I did not get the psych degree that diagnoses them. I only watch reality tv which is enough, I think,. What he would do is say, ¨It hurts me that you are hurt by me and it sucks because I do not know what is hurting you about me.¨ Please re-read that statement because it is a BRILLIANT, gaslighting reverse-uno. When I told my dad the financial and mental sabotage/ warfare he plotted against me, with RECEIPTS, he said ¨Well, I should have the right to say how you hurt me, and said one time I called him a Sperm Donor.¨ This man told me he would pay for my university, opened a bank account, and on my first day there emptied the account and blocked me. I should add the university was in Europe. On that alone, I should have called him and Egg Thief because, at least, sperm donors donate with the purpose of fulfilling a woman’s life, even if to pay their own rent. My dad lied to my mom, took money from her to snort it in an alley, and got her pregnant so quick she got stuck with him.. .via me.
My dad was not redeemable, in part, because he had no remorse. If I had done half the damage my father did to any woman/ human being that loved him, I would be with Patrick under a rock under the sea: completely ignoring SpongeBob. Yet, I chose something worse. Via my father´s mental and emotional training of me, I fell for men and friendships defined by how my partners loved how I loved them but never loved me back, which is why when I said they hurt me, they sounded, exactly, like him. Their gaslighting was like getting stabbed by someone, and instead of them calling 911, they proceeded to explain to me that you are not actually bleeding. Instead, they would really look at my spiritually bleeding ass and be like its not actually blood because, technically, blood is water so you do not need a hospital, what you need is to hydrate and if you pick yourself up there is 7/11 blocks away. Yet, because you called me an asshole and assholes do not buy you water bottles… you are on your own.
My father did not love me. To be honest, he loved no one. What he liked was being loved. It invigorated him and covered up the emptiness that never healed and eventually got to old to even try. Drugs, sex, and lies were not his biggest addiction because they gave hom rushes, but nothing made him feel whole more than knowing people loved him, despite the lies and cries he had to cause to get it. It was inauthentic, but for an empty human being it was closest he could get to love. This is the core of gaslighting. The person who is gaslighting you does not love, like, or even know you. What they do know is that you love and like a version of them that, even if they are not, when you tell them they are hurtful or cruel, you reveal to them who they are. In defense, they have to destroy you to get you back to serving them again.
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