
But by the time I was ready to speak to a therapist, I remember feeling hope. Maybe someone would finally understand my truth. I believed they would be able to help make sense of what I couldn’t name yet — offer clarity, guidance, even a way forward.
It felt like I was reaching a hand out of the confusing grey I was living in, hoping someone could catch it and help me see more clearly.
That first therapist listened quietly. I told her about my experience as I understood it at the time — which was long before I had even heard the term “gaslighting” or had explored the idea of emotional manipulation.
That perhaps I was being too sensitive. That if I could be more patient, more loving, or more forgiving, it might all get better.
On reflection, I can see now that she was totally under-resourced and out of her depth. She didn’t have a frame of reference from her own lived experience, and she didn’t understand Narcissism — or the red flags to listen out for in a story like mine.
When you understand that victims of narcissistic abuse have been made to doubt their own reality, it becomes clear just how dangerous it is for a therapist to reinforce that confusion — to call their experience even further into question. It would be some time before I built up to trying again.
But I did and over the next two years, I saw four more therapists. Each time I brought my confusion, hoping for clarity. And each time, I left with the same gnawing sense that maybe it really was all my fault.
The last one was probably the most disappointing of all. By then, I had begun to secretly record conversations in my marriage and write down what was being said at home. I felt deeply ashamed — convinced I would take this secret to the grave — but I was so gaslit by then I was desperately trying to figure out what was actually happening.
In a couples session, I mentioned that I had a list of things I’d recorded and asked if I could read some of it aloud, with my then husband present. The therapist paused, then told me to put the list away. He suggested I stop taking notes, “wipe the slate clean,” and simply start again from today.
I can tell you this: if you’re taking notes or recording things to prove to yourself that they happened — that’s not you being paranoid. That’s a survival response. It’s a clear indicator of emotional abuse. You’re trying to protect your own memory from being rewritten.
Just last week, a client placed her phone on the table in my clinic and asked to record our session. I immediately said yes, of course — because I know how valuable it can be to listen again later. But on a deeper level, I understood exactly what was happening. Her nervous system was looking for secure footing — something stable, something that wouldn’t shift. None of those therapists I saw named what was happening. None of them saw it for what it was: Narcissistic abuse.
It’s not always bruises or screaming fights. It’s a slow erosion. It’s confusion. It’s love being weaponised. And unless you’ve walked that road, or studied it deeply, it’s easy to miss.
Eventually, I found the right support. It was life-changing. I became a psychotherapist because I wanted to offer the kind of care I couldn’t find when I needed it most. Today, I specialise in helping women who are healing from narcissistic abuse, emotional trauma, and burnout.
And I get it — truly. Not just the theory, but the lived experience of what it feels like to have your sense of self unravel.
If you’re a woman in Sydney looking for a therapist who genuinely understands narcissistic abuse, you deserve support that meets you where you are — without minimising your experience.
You can learn more about how I work here – Healing form Narcissistic Abuse for Sydney clients, or get in touch with me today to start the conversation.
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