I never knew Ricky was gaslighting me. I was too smart for something like that to happen to me. The definition of gaslighting is “to manipulate (someone) by psychological means into questioning their own sanity.” That wasn’t me. I would have spotted it and stopped it. But I didn’t. Ricky was too clever, never making it obvious. Never being blatant. That’s the way it works. You never know it’s happening until you are already there.

At first, we were perfect. How could we not be? Ricky opened himself up to me. Told me his thoughts, his greatest fears, all his emotions. Told me he had never said these things to anyone else, never trusted anyone else like he trusted me. I marvelled at the honesty. I had never had a relationship like that before. I felt so blessed that finally, finally, I had found the person for me. The person who would never disappoint me and never, ever hurt me.

So, when the gaslighting began, I didn’t notice. Couldn’t notice. The twinges of doubt and confusion I was feeling were wrong. Dead wrong. I got mad at myself for even questioning them. Ricky was perfect.

The twinges got louder and stronger. The mounting losses, the mounting controversies. The media leaks. The impending Ricknobyl. But there was always a reason. Always. And I was always the paranoid one for questioning. How could I doubt Ricky when he promised so much? Maybe I was the one with the issue. It must be all in my head. I needed to learn to trust Ricky more, hear him more, believe him more.

I became obsessed with fixing it. Desperate to avoid his grip. I stayed up all night planning. I stopped sleeping. If I just did this, said this, tried this, I could fix myself. I could be free of Ricky.

But last night’s upset win over the Eels was the final straw. I am done. The gaslighting is complete. I am broken. Ricky has broken me. And I am left alone, with no apology.