Consequences

I could see, this morning, when you came over to deliver the Nintendo Switch she left at your parents' house, where you're staying, how sad you were and I sensed you longing for the children as you hugged them at the door. 

I felt a pang in my heart for you.

Then I had to remind myself that at no point have you complained about the contact time you have with the children. At no point have you asked for it to change. At no point have you tried to assert your needs as their parent. For this lack of assertiveness, there are consequences.

When you chose to leave me alone on my birthday with a newborn and a toddler to care for during the 12 hours that you went to enjoy your hobby after I begged you not to, I struggled to feel the same way afterwards.

There were consequences.

When on nights out with friends, you chose to belittle me instead of standing proudly by my side, a team, against the world together, for me there were consequences and eventually, for you there were consequences too. 

When you didn't go to the doctor about your health issue, which grew and worsened and came between us, there were consequences.

When you stayed up late watching box sets instead of sleeping so that you could be the "on" parent during the day time when I'd been awake all night, there were consequences for us all.

When I couldn't make any more effort in our relationship because whilst I was prioritising Us and the children, you were only thinking of yourself as an individual and there were consequences.

When you failed to stand up to your mother when she made underhanded remarks about my parenting, ignored me and treated me like I was invisible and you told me I needed to be more tolerant? I distanced myself. 

And there were consequences.

When the therapist asked you to take the lead and make some effort to explore yourself, your wants, your needs, your hopes and dreams and make some effort in our relationship, you ignored her and there were consequences. 

When the therapist told me to take some time out, for myself because I was exhausted by trying to make a failing relationship work single handedly, I extended that time out for my own self preservation and so there were consequences.

When I tried to talk to you about how to resolve all of the hurt so that we could find a way, when I asked you to go to therapy and you didn't, there were consequences. 

When you say no to doing any inner work and no to relationship work and no to parenting and no to sleep and no to team work and no to me.

I'm sorry, but there are consequences. 

And now, I have to remind myself that I can't protect you from the consequences anymore. Even when I know that being away from us is making you sad, angry, resentful, hateful of me because you think it's all my fault, I remember that there are consequences. For all of us. But mostly, you have to face your consequences, like you faced your choices.

The lack of happiness and gratitude for others

One thing I learned through being with my ex is that he could never be happy for me when something positive happened in my life. I believe this was possibly born of his own low self esteem, seeing me as an extension of himself, whenever life was going well for me, I think it sparked a fear response in him. I was getting away or bettering myself.

Other times, I'm not sure. I couldn't even do nice things for him, without him becoming seemingly offended. So I stopped. It was like he even needed to be in control of anything nice that I did for him.

I remember greeting him with a morning coffee in bed when we were still dating and the look of horror on his face: "I never drink coffee in bed." Him then leaving it on the side to go cold. I remember at the time, feeling I couldn't do anything for him without ingratitude and I later put it down to what I perceived as undiagnosed autism and a resistance to change. Now though, I'm not so sure. 

When my much-loved Grandfather died, I wrote a eulogy- put many emotional hours into what I could only describe as a "last performance." You see, he was a performer. He performed on stage for most of his life, a big, warm character who many loved and I felt a huge calling to stand up and bring the memories of him to life at his funeral in the way he would have done. It was huge for me; we'd recently moved house and I was also about to begin a new job, so the added pressure in addition to the grief was immense. I performed it for Peter first of all: he didn't smile, he didn't clap, he didn't give me a "well done." He just nodded and said "yeh, it's good," before returning to his usual distractions. 

When the funeral came and my family hugged me at the end of the eulogy, thanking me for the things I'd said and the "performance" I'd given in the height of my grief, Peter said nothing. He couldn't be proud of me, infact, I had this odd feeling, that he might even have been embarrassed. He never said, but he didn't have to. We never spoke about the eulogy ever again. 

Both him and his mother are very money minded however and when I once won £1000 on the Postcode lottery, they seemingly couldn't have been happier. I remember his mother boasting to anyone who would listen about my little win, his sister calling me out of the blue to ask "is it true?! Welldone!!!" I remember saying to her "well done for what?"

Peter whatsapping his friends a picture of the cheque. Like I'd finally achieved something. But there were no congratulations for new jobs, for promotions or anything else which required hard work and merit.

If I told him about something I'd achieved at work or been praised for, he'd look visibly unsettled and then later on, mock me or make a joke of it. If I cooked a nice meal he'd praise me, but have to comment on the mess I'd made, even if I was helping clear up. 

Sometimes, I think he even got offended if I got on well with his friends, so in the end, he kept me at a distance and blamed me for it. He'd quote a throw away comment I might have made about one of them in the past like "he's a bit cocky" or "he wasn't very friendly tonight" and use it as a reason for me never to mix with his friends again. He'd tell me stories about their cheating and sexist comments, I'd naturally say how awful their behaviour was and he'd then say later on,  "you don't even like my friends, you said so yourself! That's why I can never invite them over!"

I'll never be with a man who isn't happy for me again. The next man I fall in love with needs to be happy for me to mix with their friends, happy for my successes, happy for my efforts, grateful that they have me. Because that's what this sort of behaviour all boils down to isn't it? Ingratitude. And whilst happiness blooms from gratitude, there can never be happiness with men like Peter. 

Too Many Problems

I've been reflecting less on the "whys" since my last post and I've been getting on with my life. Over-thinking the relationship and what went wrong has been consuming me and I'll never fully know or understand any of it. Peter does not understand himself; caught in a vacuum between masking and whatever disorder he has: PDA/ NPD/ ASD- whatever it may be. 

However, I did reflect a little yesterday following a women's day retreat that I attended. It somehow brought lots of feelings to the surface and something really dawned on me. 

I had been far too much of a problem for Peter.

His mother would boast quite regularly at what an "easy" child Peter had been- "never a problem." Peter was used to receiving praise for never communicating his needs and hiding away in his bedroom, so he neglected them and largely, became numb to them. It's not surprising that, during more serious conversations, Peter's only response to any questions asked was "don't know." A hallmark of a disorder, but also a hallmark of emotional neglect. 

Then, Peter met me. 

In the beginning, he was highly attentive; he sort of honed in on me at first- wanted to know everything about me; he even said so at one point. The contrast between Peter's behaviour at the first wedding he took me to and his behaviour at the last, is quite different. The way he stood by my side the first time, introducing me to people he knew with maturity and consideration, then the last time we went to a wedding of his friends: him abandoning me at a table whilst he stood getting incredibly drunk at the bar. I have found myself reflecting, wondering, why his behaviour changed so drastically.

I had become a Problem. 

The night of the latter wedding, I'd been struggling with severe stomach cramps for around 5 days, I was being tested for coeliac, crohns disease and other disorders; I'd also had some bleeding so it was being taken quite seriously. Peter hated problems. I was always required to be on the same plane as him: functioning, denying, masking, or coping. If I wasn't, it was met with silent resentment, ignorance, neglect and disinterest. 

I remember the resentment I was met with during both my pregnancies. I couldn't cook for six weeks. Between weeks 6-12, I was overcome by nausea, wretching and heaving all day long and Peter had to do more at home, cooking every evening meal. He was miserable with me, resentful. One of the traits of ASD is the lacking theory of mind; he could have told himself "this won't be forever," but it was like he himself was completely unaware of how he was feeling and his subsequent behaviour towards me. He went inward. Quiet. I felt like I was being punished for not functioning appropriately.

During the newborn years after our second baby came along, he seemed to want to go out more than ever. I remember him saying "just because you can't go out without the baby, doesn't mean I can't!" Me not being able to do the things that I would have done pre-baby was my problem, not his. He could have spoken to himself and said "the baby years don't last long, she won't be breastfeeding forever, let's just stick together for now." I mean it wasn't that he couldn't go out at all- I just asked him not to go out so often and for so long. Little did I realise at the time, I was also sick with an undiagnosed autoimmune condition, so I was exhausted. But to Peter, I was causing problems. 

He hated me being ill.

And when the children were little, I was ill a lot. My immune system was always weaker, likely the lack of sleep and lack of vitamins in my body, probably all of the worry about the children too. He despised it when I couldn't function. He never said "it's not my problem you're ill," but he still meant it. He left me at home once, heavily pregnant with a sickness bug and a water infection, caring for our toddler. She was sleeping, so he argued that I could rest, what was the problem? He was going to the pub whether I liked it or not. I had a temperature and I was so weak; I'd also pulled a stomach muscle whilst being sick and was quite frankly, scared. I just felt so ill. I didn't want to be alone, so I called him to come home; he did so and then he didn't speak to me at all that evening or the following day. 

I've mentioned many times throughout the blog, his mother and sister's behaviour towards me. When I spoke to Peter about it, reaching out for support I was always, without fail, the problem for speaking out. He made that very clear. I was the common denominator. This is despite him admitting to me that he had seen the behaviour for himself; the problem? My lack of tolerance. I was expected to attend and to be nice at family gatherings and celebrations despite me being treated like I wasn't there by his mother and despite his sister's false niceness- me knowing that she was my anonymous poster. It was her posting anonymous, derogatory essays on my blog at the time. They weren't the problem. I was. Because I was talking about it. 

He hated any form of conflict at all.

I'd reach out for his support if I had an issue at work or if I was upset because of something a friend had done and he would make it very clear that I was in the wrong for speaking out. Quiet, ignorance and toxic tolerance of the outside world were his traits, not mine and he didn't understand this. 

Interestingly, Peter loved hearing about other people's problems when it was presented to him as "gossip." This is one of the reasons I find myself questioning his ASD. He is a social gossip. He loves to hear that someone has fallen out with another colleague at work, he revels in it. He can even put on the concerned persona as his confidant will spill their troubles to him, then, he'll gladly move on and gossip about it to another confidant. 

When my Grandfather died, a huge blow for me, as we were so close having lived with him when I was younger, he stayed at home doing DIY whilst I stood at his bedside. I looked around at my cousins (a lot of them) all with their partners at their side. Where was mine? And then a few months later, at a party, he asked his friend's wife if she was ok following the death of her mother, even asking her if his friend (her husband) had been supporting her enough. I was shocked. This was not the man who left me at the death bed of my Grandfather to finish off DIY. 

I have been subtly punished for being "problematic," for not functioning, for putting on him. I can only conclude that once we're in intimate relationships with these people, they often see us as extensions of themselves; we are expected to behave and to exist on their level, on their plane. Our boundaries, our needs, our thoughts and feelings all diminish into nothing and we pay the price for not towing the line. I guess, now that our relationship is over, his life will be more problem and expectation free and he'll have concluded that there was only ever really one problem all along: Me. He's now left alone to please himself; he's back in his old bedroom at his old house, with his familiar family of origin. He will help out practically when he's at home and his mother will remind him how he's "never been a problem" and he'll think she's right. Content in ignorant comfort.

A Thousand Cuts

Leaving a man like Peter is difficult.

On the surface, there's a kind, practically helpful man who can do DIY, who vacuums and scrubs toilets (if you ask him to), who is very practically involved with the children, who is quiet and gentle to the outside world. 

The inner world of living with a man like Peter is a far cry from the man others get to see. I was reading through this blog recently, to remind me of the pain he's caused and it dawned on me how challenging it's been to put into words exactly how Peter has inflicted this pain. 

So, I'm writing this post to express, anecdotally, the things that Peter has done. I mention things briefly throughout the blog, but in vague descriptions- probably to avoid the pain of repeating it. Also, their acts are often challenging to articulate, because they're so minor as a stand alone event- it's only when you add these snippets of misery together, does it begin to build a bigger picture. 

I mentioned, in the beginning of the blog, that Peter never protected me from his mother. Her long, hefty, boasting monologues, her underhanded criticisms, her subtle comparisons between my poor and deprived childhood and Peter's privileged one. He sat back silently. When I complained about her rudeness and my exhaustion at being in her company, I got ALL the blame. He KNEW what she was like, he admitted it quite openly. The problem? Me. My lack of tolerance. I was always lacking. "She can't help it," he would say.

I don't know where this blind obligation to his parents came from- a mix of fear, obligation and guilt, as explained in the book Toxic Parents by Susan Forward, but this blind obedience was forced on to me early on. 

In early pregnancy, I suffered horrific nausea to the point that I could not work or eat anything other than plain biscuits. On our first Christmas Eve together and at 8 weeks pregnant and ill, we had to drive to his parents house so that he could have his usual christmas eve pork and stuffing sandwich fresh from the joint of pork his mother always traditionally cooks. I should have stayed at home in hindsight, but what was he doing? Why on earth wasn't he enjoying our first Christmas Eve together as a couple and allowing me to rest? I remember feeling absolutely dreadful and wanting to leave, his mother droning on and on at me, trying to ignore the overwhelming stench of meat and stuffing. From the very beginning, I was invisible. 

This set the tone for the next 10 years. My parenting was repeatedly criticised by his mother and he said nothing:

"She needs water. Why aren't you giving her water?"

"That woman sees my grandchild more than I do." (Reference to a baby group leader).

"She will only eat what she likes if you give her all those options."

"You're making a rod for your own back."

"Poor baby girl, naughty mummy waking you up again to make you feed."

It was constant.

He excused it all away. They came over one Christmas and began playing a board game without me- I walked in half way through after putting the baby to bed, expected to sit and watch them play this game together. I spoke out tactlessly, through tiredness and it didn't go down well. 

When the baby was born, after a long colicky day with her, he came home from work- I was teary and overwhelmed and rather than cook me a meal, or help with the baby, he gave me two choices:

1) Get in the car with him and take the baby to see his mother.

2) Don't get in the car with him to take the baby to see his mother and stay at home.

She was only around 10 weeks old and I wasn't ready to be away from her yet and I also wasn't in any fit state to tolerate his mother. I got into the car with him initially, got to the end of the street and then walked home in tears, without my baby. His mother hadn't seen our baby for 4 days and it was "too long" according to Peter. Mummy had clearly been on the phone to him that day.

His social group at work did not take well to my pregnancy; they made my life miserable as described earlier in the blog. He excused it away. He even went out for a meal with them all one evening whilst I was stuck at home with another water infection. I remember eating my lunches alone in my little office during work days to avoid them and he'd be chatting away, eating his with other work colleagues, dismissing the bullying and hurt that I was experiencing. He never once came over to check in on me during the work day or to eat lunch together, despite him being a minute's walk away. I look back and think, had he took a stand, just refused to socialise with them anymore, they'd have got the message, the behaviour would have stopped.

It was like he wanted me to feel low somehow.

I eventually got a new job but had to take a pay cut working less hours. I was pleased because I was finding working and caring for a toddler who kept getting poorly too hard. Peter wasn't happy. I told him that I would make up the hours doing freelance work at the weekends- I'd take the toddler out of nursery one day a week, he could look after her whilst I worked a day at weekends. That would save us money. It would also save me a lot of stress as a mother.  Peter was very money orientated. His hobby took up some weekends, so he wasn't really on board, he punished me with silence. On one occasion, he expected me to cancel three clients at short notice, losing £85 pay that day so that he could go and do his hobby. He wanted me to work in the week, like he did. Working weekends was breaking the mould. He didn't speak to me for almost two weeks because of this supposed missed event. Yet he did go in the end, but just had to leave later in the day than he'd desired. 

His hobby has been a sore point a few times. It takes him away for often 12 hours at at the weekends. What Peter could not understand was that by going regularly when the kids were young, he was taking away my weekends too- lone parenting two young children is harder than going to work. Where was my break? Then one year, an event fell on my birthday, I had a 4 year old and a newborn at home who did not stop crying. I was exhausted and breastfeeding and at breaking point. I asked him, begged him not to go on my birthday. The only thing I wanted for my birthday was a lighter, easier day. He called me a "birthday brat" for not rearranging my birthday for the following weekend- which happened to be my mum's birthday. Unsurprisingly, this hobby is one he does with his Dad. My mum couldn't travel the long journey to spend the day with me as she was bed bound with flu,  "that's not my problem" he said. 

He spent a bit more money on my presents that year, bought me jewellery for the first time ever and went to do his hobby. At no point did his Dad suggest that they didn't go. He sent his sister over to spend my birthday with me- she brought her dog with her, who escaped out of the front door and so I spent a chunk of my birthday wandering the streets with a newborn in my arms, a 4 year old at my side, looking for her dog. To this day, he still says it was unreasonable of me to expect him to spend my birthday with me. 

On my 30th birthday, we had friends over for a little party, which he never liked doing. He was miserable all week beforehand. He pulled out all the stops with my presents and a beautiful cake, but all done resentfully. The night after the party we went for a meal just the two of us and he barely spoke to me all night. He was completely miserable and kept checking his phone. Turns out, he was missing his hobby and was checking the results on his phone. We went home early because he couldn't have been more resentful if he'd tried. 

He struggled with two kids. He moved to the spare room to get more sleep as I was breastfeeding the second. He was struggling himself with a medical condition at the time, which he had left for months and not had treated- a very large anal fissure. It got to the point that he actually, physically smelt and required an operation to fix it. All because he wouldn't go to the doctor in the first place. He became depressed. The baby had reflux and still didn't stop crying, the older one had allergies and I was juggling everything on little sleep because Peter was in pain and not sleeping at night. When we saw his mother, she'd pull me to one side and ask "how's Peter's bum?"

Unbelievable. 

He wanted out of family life or so it seemed. One night, we went out with friends and I requested that he didn't have much to drink incase I needed help with the baby during the night. She had barely slept all week and I was on my knees with exhaustion. We came home and accidentally woke her up- he was drunk and I'd had to stay sober because of his drinking. I asked him to just sit and hold her whilst she fell asleep again- my nipples were red raw from breastfeeding around the clock that week and the only way to stop it was for someone else to rock her to sleep. I stayed awake because he'd had too much to drink and listened from the bedroom next door. He was angry and resentful saying he needed his sleep and began banging the back of the nursing chair loudly into the wall in protest, like a rebellious teenager. Crying, frustrated, hopeless, helpless, I went into her room, laid her back in her cot, turned around and punched Peter in the face. I knew then, that there was no hope for us.

When we socialised with friends, Peter didn't say a lot as I'm the more outgoing one. However, he would persistently correct me in a mocking tone:

"Haha, no it wasn't like that..."

"You're exaggerating now..."

"I don't think that's appropriate to say..."

It was embarrassing and mundane. The person I'd be talking to would look bored by the persistent, pedantic interruptions. He was always pushing his low self esteem on to me. It's like I became an extension of him.

Peter isn't funny, he doesn't tell good stories, his friends don't really listen to him when he does speak because he seems to just tag along, laughing at the right times, agreeing when he should do much of the time. He drinks in excess for confidence when he's around them. I always felt a bit sorry for him when I saw him with his social group but Peter would always drop me in a flash to be a part of the group, similarly to how he'd been at work.

 We once went for a meal with his sister and her partner and he scolded me for talking about childbirth at the table. When I mentioned it to my therapist shortly afterwards, she was surprised that I didn't  retort back quickly and continue my story. I thought about why I didnt and it's because his sister and partner would have jumped in to agree with him. Family loyalty is strong here remember. I don't know how I would have sat and finished my meal if that had happened and I was just glad to be dressed up and eating a meal I hadn't had to cook. I did confront him later on when he corrected me again and I said "well I just can't say anything right tonight can I" and him and his sister gave each other an all-knowing look, like I was the problem. A couple of days later, his parents said what a wonderful night they'd heard we'd all had together. 

But, my night had just been censored. I didn't feel the same. I broached this with Peter after his parents' comment and he told me that as I was the only one who didn't enjoy myself. So, I was the problem. 

Peter would never make decisions... "it's up to you" then criticise if it didn't work out. I'd always find myself over explaining to him. He'd always say "why do you over explain things to me?!" He'd place mental boulders and hurdles in the way so that life couldn't move forward, reasons why ideas couldn't work, but never any suggestions. Negative by nature.

The "unintentional" gaslighting was a huge problem. He had to be right. He would tell me he'd told me about his pre-planned hobby days that I couldn't remember him telling me about. Said I'd agreed to things that I just couldn't remember. I devised a family calender system and he refused to use it. My therapist was appalled that he rebelled against any sort of system that I put into place. Any communication was met with "don't know." You can't communicate with that can you? 

When I suggested regular weekly date nights, he would fall asleep somewhere whilst I was cooking, despite going to bed late on other evenings and being able to stay awake. If I said black, he always said white. 

If I ever felt any form of inequality at work, or fell out with a friend, I'd look to him for reassurance and support, like most people in relationships do. But, he'd only condescend my views or feelings and make me feel like it was all my fault. "I can't help but see things from the other side" he'd say to me. Why would you do that before giving validation first? 

If I told him things about my past or family, he'd save it up to use against me should I ever need to confront him about his behaviour or his family. And of course, my outwardly critical and argumentative family were always worse, I had no right to say anything about his. 

Writing all of this down, I can see it's like he's been in competition with me from very early on. Why? Why has he felt the need to behave this way? 

The load of parenting for me has been immense, but he never appreciated that. I was always imagining any emotional strain, because he couldn't feel it. His parenting has been troubling at times- like when the baby was crying and I was upstairs with a migraine, I went down and asked "what's wrong with her?"

His response "she's crying." 

It never occured to him to explore the reason why. She had a raging temperature at the time and required antibiotics. 

Another time, our daughter collapsed unconscious and was at the cusp of a diabetic coma.

I shouted "call an ambulance!"  

But he wouldn't because he doesn't like speaking on the phone, so I had to do it whilst he "cuddled her better" in his words. When the ambulance men came, he offered them a cup of tea (well that's what you do when you have visitors isn't it?!) They snapped at him that they weren't there to drink tea. I'm thankful for that.

He's left our youngest daughter unattended at the front of our ungated driveway at 3 years old whilst he was taking shopping in to the back of the house. She could have just ran off. 

I've been blamed for "indulging" our eldest daughter's anxiety because she's apparently doing it for attention and I should be dismissing it- like him. He also accused me of creating more of a problem. 

Everything is my fault. 

Each time I've acknowledged a fault or a problem, I've been the problem for bringing it to the surface.

I've flagged up too much dysfunction and he just wants everything to stay the same.

There's so much more that I could write. He never said "I love you" after our second born and used to say "just because you can't go out without the baby doesn't mean I can't."

There was no team spirit at all. 

I am not innocent in all of this. My rage has got the better of me at times, I've shouted and name called him, screamed at him. Hated him.

The thing that really sticks in my mind though was at my most vulnerable, when I'd just been diagnosed with my autoimmune condition and had a young baby and a young child to care for. I was also working and exhausted and still breastfeeding. I felt very low, very vulnerable. He said to me "I pity you." 

Out of all the things he's ever said to me, I'll never ever forget that. He didn't need to pity me; he could have just helped me. 

Gaslighters

My Cassandra Syndrome online support group is brimming with women who are feeling, or who describe, feelings of being gaslighted. 

Psychology Today describes what gaslighting is here:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/gb/basics/gaslighting.

Notice the wording "deliberately," and this is where the grey area lies for women who are living with men who are repeatedly and systematically subjecting women to what can only be described as "unintentional gaslighting." 

Unlike those wanting to inflict intentional harm, as described in the article, the primary aim of an unintentional gaslighter is to protect themselves. No matter what. They must protect themselves from blame, from looking defective in any way, shape or form. This comes at the huge detriment of the mental health of a Cassandra. Their aim isn't to cause a spouse to question their sanity or to cause them deliberate harm, it's a reflex behaviour inbuilt in some types of men, considered to have ASD to protect themselves. 

A good example of this is something that happened yesterday. I returned home from doing my hobby and it was Peter's turn to put the children to bed at my house. This is always the case on Wednesdays at the moment, although it won't be forever. I walked in and made a conscious effort to lock the front door and hang the key up afterwards, because I always hang the key in a particular place in the evenings so that I can reach it easily to escape should there ever be a fire. I vividly remember turning the key in that lock. 

Then, Peter got up, put his shoes on and was about to leave, he headed towards the front door after a brief conversation, then he turned and came back to the kitchen to ask me something else. His key was in his hand. 

He then approached the front door again and said "you never locked this door- you need to remember to always lock the door." I told him that I remember that I did and that he must have opened it when he approached the door the first time when he was about to leave. Now, had I not vividly remembered locking the door myself, I probably would have taken the blame, shrugged and thought nothing of it, but I wasn't taking the blame when I knew this was his mistake.

He stood there and continued arguing that it was me. I became very assertive on this occasion, pointed at him sternly, like a child and told him to stop treating me as his scapegoat and to accept that perhaps he had made a mistake. 

His body language was tense, he never raises his voice, but he looked angry inside, his eyes wide, sullen, injured, attacked. Some people may say that he's playing mind games- that he did this on purpose to make me question myself, but he didn't. This is him. All over. 

It's so trivial. None of it matters. 

But he could not accept that he had made a mistake and was happy to blame me for it. This is unintentional gaslighting. And do you know what?  It is not ok. 

It is not ok to always be accused of being the defective one because they fear having any flaws themselves. It's not ok to never take responsibility or accountability. It's not ok to deny someone their feelings day after day after day just because feelings make them feel uncomfortable. 

When someone is this selfish, because that is the exact cause of unintentional gaslighting, pure selfishness, it's manslaughter. As I've said so many times on this blog, the outcome is the same. It happens when someone will go to all lengths to protect their delusional, small minded perception of themselves. 

It is gaslighting.