We all gaslight. The difference lies in the fact that some do it deliberately, maliciously, to manipulate. Others do it without realizing it. It happens in a conversation between a couple, an argument between friends, or a shared memory that doesn’t quite match the other person’s recollection.
When someone says, “That’s not how it happened,” and the other person counters, “You’re wrong, it happened exactly like that,” no one thinks of manipulation. No one sees themselves as the one distorting the other person’s reality. And yet, the truth is, there are two versions of the same event vying for dominance.
When we talk about gaslighting, we often imagine extreme situations like those found in toxic relationships, deliberate manipulation, or emotional abuse. But there’s a much more subtle and widespread form that’s rarely mentioned: unintentional gaslighting. This doesn’t stem from an intention to harm, but from something more human and perhaps even more uncomfortable to admit: our natural tendency to interpret, reconstruct, and sometimes even try to impose our version of reality.
We don’t remember, we reconstruct what we lived through
We tend to think of our memory as a reliable storehouse that we access when we need to retrieve a memory. But that’s not actually the case, or at least not entirely. Memory has a more reconstructive nature.
Each time we recall something, we don’t access an intact “file,” but rather reinterpret it based on our beliefs, emotions, and current context. In fact, recent studies have confirmed that every time we retrieve a memory, we update it with new information, a mechanism known as reconsolidation.
As early as 1979, psychologist Elizabeth Loftus had shown that memory is not as faithful to the facts as we thought and that it can be manipulated relatively easily. In one of her experiments, she had 45 people watch videos of car accidents and asked them to estimate the speeds using different words. She found that when she used verbs like “crush” instead of “hit,” the participants reported higher speeds and even remembered seeing broken glass that wasn’t actually in the video.
In subsequent experiments, he even managed to get people to recall events that never happened or to alter key details of real experiences. It wasn’t that they wanted to lie; it was that their memory had been reconfigured. The problem was that they weren’t aware of this change.
That means that when you say “That’s not how it happened,” you’re probably not lying, you’re just defending a version that, for you, is completely real – even though it might not be.
The need to be right
Beyond good or bad memory, there’s another factor at play that leads to gaslighting: the psychological need for consistency. Because nobody likes to feel confused or, even worse, to be wrong.
Our brains are designed to seek consistency, so that what we think, remember, and feel fits into a coherent narrative over time. That’s why, when two versions of the same event clash, we don’t usually adopt a neutral stance, but rather tend to defend our version more vehemently than necessary, as if our lives depended on it.
Why do we do this? Because of cognitive dissonance. When something contradicts our perceptions or beliefs, we feel uncomfortable. And to alleviate this psychological discomfort, our mind does what it does best: it reorganizes reality. We adjust memories, reinterpret intentions, soften details, or simply discard anything that doesn’t fit. We do this automatically, without malice, and in most cases, without even being aware of it.
The problem is that, in this attempt to regain our equilibrium, we can invalidate the other person’s experience. Not because we want to manipulate them, but simply because we try to protect our internal consistency at all costs. We don’t realize that defending our version not only involves affirming what we believe happened, but often, questioning the other person’s experience.
Then friction arises in relationships. Without realizing it, we turn a difference in perspective and memories into a struggle for validity, so that someone has to be wrong (preferably not us).
Gaslighting without intention, but with consequences
Unlike pathological gaslighting, where there is a clear intention to manipulate, involuntary gaslighting lacks an “intention.” It is more diffuse, ambiguous, and automatic, and precisely for that reason, more difficult to detect.
In fact, it can occur in healthy relationships, between people who love and respect each other. It takes the form of constant corrections, categorical denials, or persistent reinterpretations. However, the fact that it’s done without malicious intent doesn’t mean it’s without consequences.
The risk lies in the accumulation, not in isolated incidents. When someone continually questions us, repeatedly tells us that our perception is incorrect, or makes us doubt what we have experienced, our self-confidence begins to erode.
Gradually, we can stop trusting our own experiences and start seeking external validation to interpret them. We constantly ask ourselves, “What if I’m exaggerating?” or “What if I remember it wrong?” And that’s where gaslighting starts to take hold and cause harm.
It’s a subtle change, but over time it breeds insecurity, indecisiveness, and a growing dependence on the gaze of others to confirm what is “real” and what isn’t. When we learn to distrust what we feel or remember, our identity also suffers. We’re likely to become inhibited: we speak less, question ourselves more, and avoid conflict for fear of being wrong.
In the long run, this can translate into low self-esteem, a persistent feeling of confusion, and increasing difficulty making decisions. And the most paradoxical thing is that all of this can occur without any intention to harm, simply through small, everyday “denials.”
How to avoid falling into unintentional gaslighting?
The first and most important thing to understand is that reality itself is not subjective, but our perception of it is. This play on words means that we don’t see reality as it is, but rather filtered through our history, emotions, and expectations. And we don’t remember events exactly as they happened; instead, we reconstruct them in our memory to fit our life narrative (a narrative that, incidentally, is also constantly changing).
To make matters worse, we tend to overestimate our objectivity. We believe our version is the closest to the facts, when in reality it’s just another interpretation. Therefore, there’s no point in arguing to impose a particular version of reality.
Secondly, it’s worth changing our approach. That is, instead of arguing about why it “really” happened, it might be more productive to focus on how the other person experienced it. We may not agree with their version, but at least we can acknowledge their experience.
Ultimately, it’s far more beneficial for the relationship to understand how the other person experienced the events, rather than trying to impose a narrative. When we share our experiences and perspectives, we’re pooling feelings that strengthen the connection.
Third and finally, it also helps to incorporate nuance into your language. Instead of the categorical, “That’s not how it was,” try “I remember it differently.” That small change reduces confrontation and opens up space for dialogue and different perspectives.
Obviously, the idea that we can all manipulate each other’s reality, even unintentionally, isn’t particularly comforting because it challenges our notion of being fair, rational, and objective. However, it also opens the door to a deeper and more complex understanding of our memory and interpersonal relationships. Accepting that we could all unintentionally gaslight others will allow us to listen better, be more nuanced, and impose our views less. And ultimately, that’s more important than imposing a narrative.
References:
Lee, J. L. C. et. Al. (2017) An Update on Memory Reconsolidation Updating. Trends Cogn Sci; 21(7): 531-545.
Loftus, E. F. (1979) The Malleability of Human Memory: Information introduced after we view an incident can transform memory. American Scientist; 67(3): 312-320.
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