Why Gaslighting Isn’t Always a Bad Thing

 

Caregiving is an act of love, sacrifice, and resilience. But for those of us who are in it for the long haul—raising, supporting, and advocating for a child with special needs—it’s more than just a role. It becomes an identity, a never-ending journey filled with emotional highs and gut-wrenching lows. And somewhere along this path, we come face to face with a concept often seen as negative but, in some cases, can be a survival mechanism: gaslighting.

The Nature of Gaslighting

Gaslighting is a hot word at the moment. It’s most certainly overused and rather misunderstood. At its core, gaslighting is abusive in nature. Its true intent is to confuse and complicate someone’s belief system, to convince them that what they are seeing isn’t actually what they are seeing in an effort to distract them from the ill intentions of the gaslighter.

But what if gaslighting isn’t always a bad thing? What if, in some cases, it becomes a necessary tool—not to manipulate, but to protect?

When Gaslighting Becomes Self-Preservation

Within hours after Sydney was born, she ended up in the NICU. The doctors were concerned that her oxygen levels kept dipping and wanted to keep her there for observation. It seemed relatively benign until my husband turned to me and said, “Don’t kid yourself, Jen. Nothing about this is okay.”Not only could she not maintain her oxygen levels, but she was also born cross-eyed—something exceedingly rare in newborns. I remember that phrase like it was yesterday: “Don’t kid yourself, Jen. Nothing about this is okay.”

Before anyone assumes Chris was being insensitive, you have to understand who he is. He cuts to the chase. He doesn’t sugarcoat or beat around the bush—he prefers to address things head-on. I am very similar to him, which is probably why we are a good fit. But in this instance, I just couldn’t go there. Instead, I found myself clinging for dear life to denial. And that denial continued for years.

The Gaslighting Loop

Shortly after we took Sydney home—with a so-called clean bill of health from the neonatologist—I began my relentless search to determine if there was any truth to what Chris had said. My first stop was with a neurologist who couldn’t confirm or deny if anything was wrong. That noncommittal response sent me spiraling into a deep, anxious loop of gaslighting myself. Despite what I could see happening right in front of me, I continued to cling to both hope and denial.

With every single doctor’s visit that couldn’t confirm or deny my fears, I found myself caught in a vicious cycle. Even my Google searches ended in me gaslighting myself into believing that Sydney’s delays, the odd way she crawled, the inconsolable crying at times—all of it was within normal limits.My gut knew it wasn’t, but my brain constantly argued against it.

Then we got the official diagnosis. That instinct my husband had within hours of Sydney’s birth finally had a name—two years later. And you’d think at that point I would have been forced to accept it, but I wasn’t. Instead, I continued my gaslighting journey, searching for the one doctor who would tell me that Sydney had a mild case, that all the interventions I was doing would make a difference, that she could somehow beat this.

The Purpose of My Self-Gaslighting

This denial, gaslighting—whatever you want to call it—fueled me for years. But I realize now that it wasn’t just denial; it was survival. It kept me searching for therapies, programs, and activities that could help her. It kept me researching the best doctors, the best medicines, and the best supplements to find that perfect fit. And time and time again, I found myself disappointed, deflated, and at my worst—defeated.

Yes, Sydney has made progress. She has grown, and she has had some successes. But not nearly at the level I had hoped for in those early years. This endless pursuit of hope took its toll on me and eventually led me down a very dark and hopeless path. I knew I couldn’t survive much longer holding onto hope that wasn’t coming—at least not in the way I was looking for it.

Trusting My Gut While Moving Forward

The delicate balance between trusting my gut and remaining steadfast in my motivation to move forward has been one of the greatest challenges of my life. My gut often tells me things I don’t want to hear, but I have learned that denying it only delays the inevitable. Accepting hard truths doesn’t mean giving up—it means adjusting, preparing, and making informed choices that set us up for success.

At some point, I divided my efforts into two categories: my short-term investment and my long-term investment. My short-term investment was about finding ways to manage the day ahead—navigating Sydney’s needs, therapies, and challenges in real-time. My long-term investment was focused on improving the lives of individuals like my daughter so that, one day, their daily experiences would be easier.

This is where the SMS Research Foundation comes in. Co-founding an organization dedicated to researching SMS was an actionable step I could take—something tangible that allowed me to feel inspired. No matter how bleak today might be, I knew I was actively working toward a future that could change the lives of others who might find themselves on this path one day.

The Irony of Acceptance

It’s hard for others to understand when I speak in absolutes when it comes to Sydney. I think people are conditioned to believe that if you don’t have hope, that means you have given up or surrendered. And I think people feel that this is a weakness or a path to some point of no return. But after all my years of living this dance between denial and hope, I see it more as a way to preserve my mental health.

There are some things that just are. No amount of hoping or positive outlook will change them. No matter how hard you try to gaslight yourself, at some point, the reality of the situation becomes so apparent that it is impossible to deny it any longer. And when you finally allow yourself to see things clearly, there is an odd sense of relief.

When you can look at a problem, an issue, or an obstacle head-on and instead of fearing it or avoiding it, you face it—either with radical acceptance or a willingness to try to find a solution—something shifts. There is a sense of clarity, a sense of power in acknowledging what is, rather than wasting energy pretending it isn’t.

I have been living this life for almost 20 years, and it has taken me a very long time to fully and wholeheartedly listen to my gut. My husband and I knew, on some level, from the moment Sydney was born that something wasn’t right. And for years, I fought that truth—until I just couldn’t deny it anymore.

My gut has become proficient at protecting me from my own gaslighting. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned through this journey, it’s this:

Sometimes, gaslighting isn’t about manipulation—it’s about survival. And that survival has kept me going.