The Scope of My Arms’ Reach
The first time that I noticed the term gaslighting, it was used by @instructor144 as an adverb describing abusive Tumblr doms. Although I’d heard and seen the term before, I’d never taken the time to look into it, and on this occasion I just read it as a throw-away insult and filed it away in my mental archive under “Doesn’t affect me,” and “Can’t do shit about it.”
Then, on Friday evening, I was reading posts from my ‘liked’ page aloud to @wolfpack-princesskitty, and I came to that same answer from @instructor144 When I’d finished reading the post, Kitten asked me, “What is gaslighting, Daddy?” I pointed out that based on the context of the post, it seemed to have something to do with fake/abusive doms, but since I wasn’t entirely certain, we Googled it….
And I spent the next five hours poring over article after article, and essay after essay, while in the pit of my stomach a nauseating rope of anxiety began to twist and tighten.
I won’t go into the details of what constitutes gaslighting in this post, but here are a couple of links for anyone else who might be unfamiliar with the concept:
7 Stages of Gaslighting in a Relationship
As I digested articles like those linked above, followed by sociological journal entries on cults and dictatorships, scholarly essays on narcissistic pathology, and finally clinical studies on abuse and torture survivors, the early morning hours ticked away until finally I closed my laptop and went to the window to watch the dawn bear down on me from the East.
Now, having versed myself in the topic, I can confidently state without the slightest trace of sarcasm or irony that I, with my 6’2”, 220 lb. frame, find the mere concept of gaslighting to be absolutely terrifying. I think I might actually feel better about it if I were embarrassed by that admission, but the truth is I am still too shaken and wound up to even register such a low-level emotion right now. For the first time in a very, very long time, perhaps since adolescence, I am experiencing a physical manifestation of fear from an intangible source. Yep, you got it… BigBad is afraid of the fucking Boogie Man.
The most horrifying thing about gaslighting in its most malicious form is its subtle, insidious nature, and the calculated, methodical manner in which the abuser enacts each phase of the process. This is essentially a form of brainwashing. One in which the methods are psychologically torturous for the victim, as he or she surrenders more and more of themselves, consistently over time, eventually surrendering their most basic sense of reality…
That is some kinda next level fucked up, right there folks.
A step by step delineation of gaslighting in a relationship reads like the screenplay of a Hitchcock thriller wrapped in an Orwellian nightmare.
Any individual who has the capacity and propensity to employ such an intensive methodology does so with the clear intention of fundamentally altering another person’s psyche.
And that scares the ever-loving shit out of me.
I’m aware that I’m late to the party on this one. About 74 years to be exact… This isn’t a new phenomenon… but there has been an inexplicably tremendous surge in reported cases in couples between the ages of 18 and 35 since 2009… and it is witnessed so frequently in abusive d/s relationships that it has actually begun to gain acceptance as legitimate kink in some circles.
I’m sure some if not many readers will see the intensity of this post and perceive it as melodrama. Just fishing for reblogs and new followers. But anyone who’s followed me for just a few days should know better than that.
The truth is, I’m not writing this to raise awareness or lend support.
I’m not writing this for you at all, reader.
I’m writing this to try to begin to cope with the quiet little voice that has taken up residence in my head for the past 2 days. It sounds a hell of a lot like my twelve-year-old-daughter, and it is asking questions that don’t make sense, yet somehow feel strangely prophetic…
Questions that I should be able to answer, but can’t.
Questions that a damaged little girl might ask the daddy who failed to protect her…
Questions that could only originate from a broken mind…
Except that isn’t quite right is it? It’s a little more complicated that that, isn’t it?The real reason I’m writing this post…. The reason my hands won’t stop shaking…. The reason my cheeks are wet and I can’t see my keyboard clearly…
The questions that are really repeating in my head over and over…
The one word they all have in common…
The one word that cuts away a piece of me with every repetition…
What the little girl in my head actually wants to know…?
“Why am I so sad, Daddy?”
“Did he hurt me, Daddy?” *Oh goddammit no*
“Do I deserve this, Daddy?”
Yeah, I’m late to the party… but I’m here now and I’m about to wreck this motherfucker.
This ends now. Within the scope of my arms’ reach, this shit ends with me.
Because I may hear these questions in my head until the day I die, but I’ll be goddamned if I’ll ever allow them to fall on my ears.
Not one more girl. Not one more boy. Not another daughter, sister, son, or brother…
We can end this shit right here, right now.
Men… brothers… all it would take is for each and every one of us to make a decision right now.
Decide to never again look the other way.
Decide to never again give the benefit of the doubt.
Decide to never again accept the bullshit lies the abusers propagate… that it’s not abuse, it’s just another kink…
Decide, and say it with me…
“This ends now. Within the scope of my arms’ reach, this shit ends with me.”
