Gaslighting

Gaslight is an old, old movie. It’s a classic. It’s an old classic. The beautiful Ingrid Bergman is in it. She’s a classic.

In the movie, her husband tries to drive her insane by moving stuff, hiding stuff, and dimming stuff. The movie coined the term gaslighting or to be gaslighted. It means trying to drive people crazy by means of moving stuff, hiding stuff, and dimming stuff like the gaslights.

Since the invention of the lightbulb, people (mostly my husband) try to gaslight people (mostly me) by acting like they’ve NEVER heard people (again me) say that I need someone (mostly my husband) to change the lightbulb in the ceiling fan on the porch. Because if I change it I have to drag the ladder from the barn, climb to the shaky top, balance on the top rung, while holding the lightbulb in my mouth and . . .

It’s still dark out there on the porch when the racoons form a human pyramid trying to pick the lock to the office and get to the mini-fridge.

The gaslighting conversation goes like this. “Honey, did you change the lightbulb, so that I can fight off racoons in the night?”

Honey says, “What porch?”

Recently, Honey was in Australia. He called me and wanted to know if I wanted a pair of Ugg boots. I said, “No thanks. I think they’re ugly and they make me look like an Inuit Indian, but I could go for a pair of those backless, slip-ons they make.” I purposely did not call them mules because I was pretty sure he’d bring me an actual mule.

He bought a pair of Ugg boots for daughter # 1, daughter # 2, daughter-in-law # 1, and a neighbor lady. I received?

A bookmark.

Made of wood.

With a kangaroo.

Am I speaking English? Is he? Did my desk lamp just dim?

And don’t even get me started on how often he thinks he’s told me stuff because he thought it to himself really loudly, or is he just pretending to think stuff he never told me?

Gaslighting.

Linda (Light Bright) Zern