I remember sitting there, heart racing, trying to explain something that felt so obvious to me.
“You said this yesterday… and now you’re saying something completely different. How does that make sense?”
I wasn’t yelling. Not at first.
I was trying to understand.
Trying to stay calm.
Trying to make it make sense.
But it never did.
Because no matter how clearly I spoke, the conversation always ended the same way.
I would walk away confused.
Frustrated.
And somehow… like I was the problem.
There was a version of me who refused to let that happen quietly.
I didn’t hold back.
I pushed back.
I challenged him.
I called out every lie, every contradiction, every moment that didn’t add up.
I needed him to see it.
I needed him to admit it.
I needed him to finally say, “Yeah, you’re right.”
Because after being gaslit, manipulated, and made to question my own reality, telling the truth felt like the only way to get my power back.
And in those moments, it felt powerful.
But what I didn’t realize at the time was this:
I wasn’t breaking the cycle.
I was feeding it.
Every time I came in stronger, more emotional, more determined to be heard, he didn’t hear me.
He adapted.
He denied more.
Twisted more.
Deflected faster.
And eventually, the focus would shift.
It was no longer about what he did.
It became about how I reacted.
Why are you so angry?
You’re overthinking everything.
You always do this.
And just like that, I was back defending myself instead of holding him accountable.
