Gaslit? When Fear Is Louder than Truth
There’s a question that I’ve pondered on this week:
Were we just gaslit?
For days, the headlines were relentless. Breaking news alerts. Urgent tones. Experts speculating. People everywhere sitting on the edge of their seats, bracing for the unthinkable—wondering if an entire civilization might be wiped off the face of the earth.
Some people said one could feel it in the atmosphere.
Others said they could feel their fists clenching.
Stomachs in knots.
Anxiety rising with every notification.
It wasn’t just “news”—it was weight. Emotional, mental, even spiritual weight.
And then…
Nothing.
No escalation. No catastrophe. No follow-through to match the intensity we were pulled into.
Just… silence.
And it leaves you wondering—what just happened?
Were we informed… or were we influenced?
Were we being prepared… or were we being played?
All I could think was—gaslighting.
Have you ever been gaslit?
It’s not something you can just sweep under the rug and move on from like it never happened. It lingers. It gets in your head. It reshapes how you see yourself if you’re not careful.
For many years, I was married to someone who gaslit me.
Back then, I didn’t even have the language for it. I couldn’t clearly explain to my family or my friends what was happening behind closed doors. I just knew something felt… off. Confusing. Disorienting.
I can’t tell you how many times I found myself standing flat-footed, trying to defend my own reality.
Repeating conversations word for word.
Describing exactly what was said.
What he was wearing.
Where he was standing.
The tone in his voice.
All of it—laid out in detail.
Only for him to look at me and say:
“I didn’t say that.”
“I wasn’t wearing that.”
“Woman, you are crazy.”
And in those moments, something shifts.
Because it’s not just disagreement—it’s distortion.
You start questioning yourself.
Did I hear that wrong?
Did I misunderstand?
Am I overreacting?
And little by little, your confidence in your own voice… your own memory… your own discernment… begins to erode.
That’s what gaslighting does.
It doesn’t just challenge your perspective—it tries to rewrite your reality.
And maybe that’s why this week felt so… familiar.
Because as I watched the headlines, the urgency, the emotional escalation—I couldn’t shake the feeling:
I’ve been here before.
That same tightening in my chest.
That same pressure to react.
That same sense that something was being presented as absolute reality… with no room to question it.
And then just like that—nothing.
No resolution that matched the intensity.
No accountability for the emotional toll.
Just a quiet shift, as if we were all supposed to move on and not ask any questions.
Gaslighting.
Because gaslighting doesn’t always happen in private relationships.
Sometimes it happens on a much larger scale.
It looks like being pulled into fear…
only to be told later, it wasn’t that serious.
It looks like emotional whiplash…
where your body carried stress that your mind is now told to dismiss.
It looks like being conditioned to react…
instead of being grounded enough to discern.
2 Timothy 1:7 says:
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.”
A sound mind.
Not a mind that is easily shaken.
Not a mind that is constantly pulled into panic.
Not a mind that is controlled by every voice that speaks the loudest.
Ephesians 4:14 warns us:
“…that we should no longer be children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind…”
Or every headline.
Every narrative.
Every emotionally charged moment.
Because when you’ve lived through gaslighting personally, you begin to recognize the patterns:
The urgency that demands immediate emotional buy-in
The narrative that leaves no room for questioning
The sudden silence that expects you to just… reset
But here’s the difference now:
I’m not that woman anymore.
I’ve learned to pause.
To question.
To not immediately internalize everything I’m presented with.
To check what I’m hearing… and how it’s making me feel.
To bring it before God instead of letting it take root in fear.
Because everything that’s loud isn’t always true.
And everything that triggers fear isn’t always trustworthy.
So maybe the real question isn’t just, “Were we gaslit?”
Maybe it’s:
Why did it affect me the way it did?
What did it stir up in me?
Am I rooted enough to not be moved every time something shakes the atmosphere?
Because if we’re not grounded, we will constantly be pulled into cycles of fear, reaction, and confusion.
But Scripture gives us another way.
Philippians 4:7 talks about:
“the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guarding your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Guarding.
That means everything doesn’t get access.
Every voice doesn’t get entry.
Every narrative doesn’t get agreement.
We are living in a time where information is constant, but truth can feel… harder to hold onto.
Where emotions are easily stirred, but rarely settled.
Where fear can spread faster than wisdom.
But we don’t have to live reactive.
We don’t have to be pulled into every wave.
We don’t have to carry every burden placed in front of us.
We don’t have to question our God-given discernment every time something feels off.
Because God is not the author of confusion—He is the anchor in the middle of it.
And maybe that’s the invitation in all of this:
To come back to center.
To come back to truth.
To come back to a sound mind.
This week, I challenge you to pause before you react.
The next time something stirs fear, anxiety, or urgency in you—don’t immediately absorb it.
Ask yourself:
Is this informing me, or influencing me?
Is this producing fear, or clarity?
Have I brought this before God, or just before my emotions?
And most importantly:
Am I grounded… or am I being moved?
Because discernment isn’t loud.
It’s steady.
It’s anchored.
And it refuses to be gaslit—by anyone or anything.
