I didn’t think gaslighting was a real thing. I mean, I’m a privileged white guy with a nice house and everything that comes with it. The thermostat’s always set at 21 degrees, no matter what global warming throws at us. My life isn’t just comfortable, it’s fucking great. I thought gaslighting was something that only happened to certain people or personality types—people dealing with tougher circumstances or stuck in a victim mindset.
But here’s the thing: gaslighting doesn’t care who you are or what you’ve achieved. It happens, even to people who feel like they’re “winning.”
For context, Merriam-Webster defines gaslighting as:
the act or practice of grossly misleading someone especially for one’s own advantage
And let me tell you, it messes with your head. Here’s how it went down for me:
I was excited to start a new role at a big company. It was a leadership position that checked all the boxes for my ambition—I’d be leading a team to design a product that could change the world. On paper, it was the perfect gig.
Then Day 1 hit.
Within ten minutes, I realized something was off. One of the first people I met was someone on my team, but they didn’t even know I was coming. They were visibly upset and clearly not in the mood to meet me—blindsided and, as I later learned, understandably frustrated. Over the next few weeks, I discovered that several other team members weren’t thrilled either. My role hadn’t been properly communicated or planned internally. People didn’t know why I was there, and some actively resented it.
From Day 1, I was set up to fail.
Still, I pushed through. I built strong relationships with consultants and remote team members, learned a lot from my team, and together we produced great work in those first few months—work I’m genuinely proud of, and that ultimately shipped. But something still felt off.
We were sold a vision but no real direction. Leadership didn’t physically disappear—we’d see them often, especially when it was important to show face at all-staff meetings—but they were absent emotionally and strategically. The guidance simply wasn’t there. Their modus operandi was clear: Do as I say, not as I do. The message was loud and unmistakable: Deliver on our vision by a non-negotiable date. Figure it out.
The team, demoralized and afraid, pushed forward hesitantly, fear guiding every step. When we follow your instructions while you openly contradict them in demoralizing ways, what are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to feel? How can we possibly deliver on this insane vision—just to help you get promoted—while working under your oppressive thumb?
Sound familiar? This is a classic corporate move: set ‘ambitious’ (read: unrealistic) goals to ‘motivate’ the team, all while staying involved just enough to change priorities, create chaos, and ultimately set the team up for failure. When things inevitably went wrong, the blame fell squarely on those who were simply following leadership’s erratic lead.
By Month 4, the cracks were impossible to ignore. As a remote team, it became increasingly difficult to get time with leadership, clarify priorities, or have meaningful conversations without a constant shadow of fear looming overhead. My 1:1 meetings were repeatedly canceled or rescheduled. Accountability was watered down through dotted-line reporting structures. And my boss routinely threw me under the bus or undervalued my team’s time and deliverables in executive reviews.
Critical roles in the user experience team were scaled back seemingly because metrics like developer pull requests were easier to quantify. Headcount was shifted to show progress on a spreadsheet. UX writing for example, which was vital for our audience, was deprioritized by leadership. Later, of course, leadership blamed us for poor copy across the app, as if designers or product managers were secretly wordsmiths in disguise.
This is when it hit me: I was being gaslighted. I even started a file on my desktop named “Am I Being Gaslighted.txt”, where I documented specific situations that didn’t feel right. When I realized I was adding to this file every few days, it was no longer a question.
Six months in, we traveled to meet some remote team members in person. I was excited to finally meet the people I was working with—the team I was leading—some for the very first time. But over dinner that night it became clear that I wasn’t valued and that I wasn’t supported—I was just a pawn.
That’s the thing about leadership in large companies—it often feels like a game. Just like chess, different pieces hold different value, and pawns are the easiest to sacrifice to win. Not every game is played this way, and not every leader operates like this, but it’s still a game—and you have to decide if it’s one you’re willing to play.
My biggest takeaway from this experience was understanding that even when you’re a great fit for a role, your success can be undermined by leadership’s shifting priorities and toxic politics. On paper and in practice, I was effectively leading a large design team and driving meaningful work. But the constant flip-flopping of leadership’s direction—their ‘game’—made it impossible for anyone in the position to succeed. While I’ve carried this lesson forward, I still wonder: is there a way to spot these toxic dynamics earlier next time?
If you’re reading this and wondering whether you’re being gaslighted, let me tell you this: if it feels like you are being gaslighted, you probably are. Trust your instincts and get out—now.
You’re better than this, and if you’re smart (and determined) enough to recognize the situation, you’re capable of finding something better. That’s exactly what I did. I found a team with leadership that values me. The difference is night and day, and it feels incredible to finally work in an environment where I’m respected.
Remember, gaslighting doesn’t define you. It’s not a reflection of your worth—it’s a reflection of their failures.