By Annie Wright, LMFT · Licensed Marriage & Family Therapist (#95719)Clinically reviewed July 2026Gaslighting in Relationships: Trusting Your Own Mind Again
LAST UPDATED: JULY 2026
When the person you trust most keeps rewriting your memory of what happened, it’s not just confusing, it’s disorienting. If you’ve started doubting your own perceptions, you’re not alone and you’re not losing your mind. This guide walks through how gaslighting works, why it’s so effective against smart, capable women, and how to rebuild trust in your own mind.
Last reviewed: July 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT • This article follows our Editorial Policy
- What Happens When Your Own Memory Becomes the Thing on Trial?
- What Is Gaslighting, Exactly?
- Why Does Gaslighting Work So Well on Smart, Capable Women?
- What Does Gaslighting Actually Do to Your Nervous System?
- Both/And: Can You Hold the Damage and Your Capacity to Repair It at Once?
- The Systemic Lens: Why This Isn’t Just a “You” Problem
- How Do You Start Trusting Your Own Mind Again?
- Frequently Asked Questions
Gaslighting in a relationship is a pattern where one partner repeatedly contradicts the other’s memories, perceptions, and emotional responses until the target starts doubting her own mind. It’s rarely one dramatic denial. It’s a hundred small reframes, a thousand tiny corrections, that add up to something much bigger: the slow erosion of self-trust. In my work with driven women, I’ve noticed that the exact intelligence that makes them excellent at their jobs is what gets turned against them here. Their analytical minds keep searching for the reason the partner might be right, because that’s what smart minds do with a puzzle. But this isn’t a puzzle. It’s a pattern, and patterns can be named.
In short: Gaslighting is a repeated pattern, not a single event, in which one partner contradicts the other’s memory and perception until self-trust erodes and the target starts relying on the gaslighter’s version of reality instead of her own.
If nothing was ever obviously wrong but you still came out doubting your own perception, my self-paced course Clarity After the Covert is the map for what you experienced.
I’ve spent more than 15,000 clinical hours with women rebuilding their sense of reality after relationships that left them doubting their own minds. What I keep learning, case after case, is that the recovery of self-trust is almost always slower than clients expect, precisely because the erosion happened so gradually that no single moment felt like the moment. I recently reread Ramani Durvasula, PhD, clinical psychologist and professor at California State University, Los Angeles, and her work on narcissistic relational abuse names something I’ve watched happen in my office for over a decade: gaslighting produces a specific kind of injury that targets epistemic self-confidence, meaning your basic ability to trust that what you perceived actually happened. That’s the wound underneath the wound, and it’s the one we have to treat directly.
This content is psychoeducational in nature and is not a substitute for professional mental health treatment. If you’re in crisis, please contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.
What Happens When Your Own Memory Becomes the Thing on Trial?
You’re standing in the center of your kitchen. The refrigerator hums its steady, indifferent hum. Somewhere behind you, a pot is boiling down to nothing, and you’ll remember that detail later, oddly, more clearly than you remember the argument itself. You cross-examine witnesses for a living. Your mind is the kind of mind that can pull case law from a decade ago without blinking. And right now, in your own kitchen, you are apologizing for something you are almost certain you didn’t do.
“You’re remembering it wrong,” he says, his voice calm, certain, like a judge reading a verdict that was decided somewhere else long before either of you walked into this kitchen tonight. You search your own memory for the moment he’s disputing, the timeline you were so sure of thirty seconds ago, and it goes slippery in your hands.
This isn’t a courtroom. You don’t get to control the narrative here. It’s your home, your relationship, and for the first time you let yourself think it: maybe I am wrong.
Here’s what I want you to know before you read another word of this: that moment, the one where your own certainty starts to wobble under someone else’s calm insistence, is not a sign that something is wrong with your mind, it’s a sign that something is wrong with the dynamic you’re in, and the distinction between those two possibilities matters more than almost anything else I could tell you right now. In my practice, I’ve sat with dozens of women who arrive describing this exact sensation, and the relief on their faces when I name it is the same relief every time. Not because naming it fixes anything yet. Because naming it means they aren’t crazy, and they were starting to believe they might be.
This guide is going to walk through what gaslighting actually is, why it works so effectively on capable, driven women in particular, and what the road back to trusting your own mind actually looks like. Not the version where you have to prove anything to anyone. The version where you get your inner compass back. You’ll meet two composite clients along the way, Alleyne and Almudena, both drawn from years of clinical work.
What Is Gaslighting, Exactly?
Gaslighting is a pattern, not an event. It’s not one lie or one bad night. It’s what happens when a person you’re close to repeatedly and systematically invalidates your perceptions, memories, and feelings until you start to doubt your own sense of what’s true. In session, I’ve watched clients try to pinpoint the exact moment it started and fail, because it thrives on repetition and subtlety. Each individual instance looks small enough to dismiss. It’s only the pattern, laid end to end, that reveals the shape of what actually happened.
Gaslighting is a form of psychological manipulation in which a person systematically undermines another’s perception of reality, memory, or emotional experience, causing that person to doubt her own mind. The term was first thoroughly examined in a clinical context by Robin Stern, PhD, associate director of the Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence and author of The Gaslight Effect.
In plain terms: It’s when someone keeps insisting your experience or feelings aren’t real or accurate until you stop trusting your own read on things. Think of it like a compass that’s been quietly demagnetized. It still moves. It just doesn’t point true north anymore, and you don’t find that out until you’re already lost.
What makes gaslighting different from an ordinary disagreement about facts, the kind every relationship has and survives without lasting damage, is the target of the argument itself. A disagreement is about what happened. Gaslighting is about whether you’re capable of knowing what happened, which is a much more corrosive question, and one that eventually stops being about any single incident at all. It becomes about your basic reliability as a witness to your own life. You’ll see this shortly with Almudena, a surgical resident, and Alleyne, a law firm partner, both women whose careers depend on precise memory.
Epistemic self-trust is the baseline confidence that your own perceptions, memories, and reasoning are generally reliable sources of information about the world. It’s the foundation underneath every other kind of confidence. Jennifer Freyd, PhD, psychologist and researcher who has spent decades studying betrayal dynamics, has written about how this specific form of trust is what gets targeted first in relationships defined by chronic invalidation.
In plain terms: It’s the quiet, background belief that when you remember something happened, it probably did. Gaslighting doesn’t attack your intelligence. It attacks that background belief, which is why even brilliant women can end up unable to trust a memory they’d stake their career on.
Why Does Gaslighting Work So Well on Smart, Capable Women?
Almudena is thirty-six, a pediatric surgical resident who has spent the better part of a decade being right under pressure. It’s 6:40 on a Tuesday morning and she’s sitting in the hospital parking garage, engine off, her badge already clipped to her scrubs, and she is not moving. Her coffee has gone cold in the cupholder. She is replaying, for the fourth time this week, a conversation from the night before.
“I told you I was going to the conference in October,” her partner said, when she brought up childcare for those dates. “You always do this. You never listen.”
She hadn’t heard that. She would have written it down. She writes everything down, it’s a professional habit that bleeds into her personal life, sticky notes and shared calendars and confirmation texts, because in her world an unconfirmed detail can cost a patient. She checked the calendar that morning before her shift. There was nothing there. And still, sitting in the garage, she felt the old, familiar tilt: maybe she just forgot to add it. Maybe she’s the one who’s been careless.
Sitting with Almudena two weeks later, when she first told me this story, I felt the specific mix of recognition and sorrow I’ve come to associate with driven women describing gaslighting. Not surprise. Recognition. I’ve heard some version of this parking-garage scene, this cold-coffee, badge-already-clipped scene, more times than I can count.
What I’ve come to think of as the credibility trap is something I see almost weekly in driven women. The very traits that make you excellent at your job, the habit of double-checking yourself, the instinct to consider that you might be wrong, the discipline to hold two possibilities open at once, become liabilities the moment someone starts exploiting them. A surgeon who didn’t second-guess herself would be dangerous. A woman in a gaslighting relationship who doesn’t second-guess herself is treated by her partner as arrogant, difficult, unreasonable. So she does what her training taught her to do. She checks her own certainty one more time. And that’s exactly the opening the pattern needs to widen.
Women like Almudena are also, often, deeply empathetic, wired to consider other people’s perspectives generously and to assume good faith. That’s a genuine strength in a hospital, a courtroom, a boardroom. In a relationship where a partner exploits it, that same generosity becomes the mechanism of her own doubt. She extends him the benefit of the doubt. He uses it as evidence that she’s the unreliable one.
RESEARCH EVIDENCE
Peer-reviewed findings that inform this clinical framework:
- A pattern researchers term “good-guy gaslighting” is positively associated with manipulativeness in intimate partners, meaning it doesn’t require overt cruelty to function (PMID: 39376937)
- A significant proportion of women report experiencing intimate partner sexual violence, a category that frequently co-occurs with gaslighting dynamics and is often minimized by the same reality-distorting mechanisms (PMID: 38336660)
What Does Gaslighting Actually Do to Your Nervous System?
Here’s what I’ve watched happen in session, over and over, and what the research on chronic relational stress has been documenting for years. Gaslighting isn’t only a cognitive event. It’s stored in the body, not just in the story you’d tell about it. Think of your nervous system like a smoke detector that got recalibrated during a real emergency and never got reset. The alarm still worked fine before. Now it goes off at burnt toast, at a slightly raised voice, at the particular tone someone uses right before they tell you that you’re remembering it wrong.
Which means, in practice, that a driven woman can leave a gaslighting relationship, understand exactly what happened to her, and still feel her chest tighten the next time a partner disagrees with her about something small. She isn’t being irrational. Bodies update slower than minds do.
Chronic exposure to this kind of invalidation keeps the body in a low-grade state of hypervigilance, the fight-flight-freeze system idling instead of shutting off, and that is not a metaphor so much as a fair description of what a body does when it has spent months or years scanning someone else’s face for danger signals without ever fully being allowed to stand down. It shows up as difficulty sleeping. As a jaw that’s sore in the morning from clenching all night. As the strange, specific exhaustion of a woman who hasn’t done anything physically demanding all day but feels like she ran a marathon by 3pm.
Of course you’re tired. If you’ve spent months or years fact-checking your own memory against someone else’s version of events, of course exhaustion has become your baseline instead of your exception, because that exhaustion isn’t a character flaw, it’s the accurate and entirely predictable cost of running a threat-detection system at full capacity for far longer than any nervous system was ever built to run. This is not weakness. This is math.
I still think about a client, years ago, who told me she’d started keeping a private voice memo app on her phone, just to record herself narrating what had happened right after it happened, because she’d learned she couldn’t trust her own memory of an argument by the time she sat down to think about it that night. That’s not paranoia. That’s an intelligent adaptation to an environment where the ground kept moving. The tragedy is that it’s also, itself, exhausting to maintain.
Both/And: Can You Hold the Damage and Your Capacity to Repair It at Once?
Alleyne is a law firm partner in Chicago, thirty-nine years old, the kind of lawyer junior associates are half-afraid of and entirely in awe of. She’s sitting at her desk at 8:15 on a Thursday evening, long after everyone else has gone home, rereading an email chain from a client meeting three weeks earlier. Her partner insists she never mentioned a strategy pivot that’s right there, in writing, in her own sent folder. She has the proof in front of her. And she still feels the old tilt in her stomach, the one that whispers, quietly, maybe I’m remembering this wrong somehow.
“I have the email,” she told me, the first time she described this to me. “I have it right there on the screen. And I still felt like I needed to double check it three times before I believed myself. What is wrong with me that I need proof to trust my own memory?”
Nothing is wrong with her. Sitting across from Alleyne that day, I felt the particular ache I feel whenever a genuinely competent woman describes needing external, documented evidence to believe something as basic as her own memory of an email she sent herself three weeks earlier. The proof-checking wasn’t the problem. The proof-checking was the adaptation that had kept her functioning inside a relationship where her memory was contested often enough that she’d learned, reasonably, not to trust it unassisted.
Here’s the both/and I sit with clients in exactly this position: gaslighting causes real, measurable damage to your capacity to trust your own perceptions, and you retain the capacity to rebuild that trust. These aren’t in tension. Holding both is the actual work. It’s not “get over it” and it’s not “you’re permanently broken.” It’s closer to: this happened, it changed something real in how your mind operates day to day, and that something can change back with the right conditions and enough time.
For Alleyne, that meant something specific and almost embarrassingly small at first. She started keeping a plain paper notebook, not for anyone else, just for her, where she’d write down what happened within an hour of it happening. Not to build a case. To have a record that existed before anyone had a chance to argue with it. Three months in, she told me something that’s stayed with me: “I don’t reread the notebook that often anymore. I think I just needed to know it existed.” That’s what rebuilt trust actually looks like most of the time. Quiet. Undramatic. Cumulative.
The both/and also means this: you can love someone, or have loved someone, who did this to you, and still name plainly what it cost you. Those two things live in the same body at the same time. Neither cancels the other out, and you don’t have to resolve the tension between them before you’re allowed to start healing. Both Alleyne, with her notebook, and Almudena, with her cold coffee and her badge already clipped to her scrubs, are proof that this both/and is livable. Neither of their stories ends tidily. Both are still, as far as I know, in progress.
The Systemic Lens: Why This Isn’t Just a “You” Problem
It would be a mistake to talk about gaslighting as though it only ever happens between two people in a closed room, with no wider context shaping why it works. In my office, I hear the same background hum in almost every case: women still, broadly, socialized to be accommodating, to keep the peace, to assume responsibility for relational harmony even when the discord isn’t theirs to fix. That conditioning is the terrain gaslighting grows in. It’s not the cause of any individual relationship’s dynamics, but it’s the ground that makes the dynamic easier to sustain and harder to name.
When Almudena, a surgical resident who has spent a decade proving her competence in rooms that doubted her by default, starts doubting her own memory at home, that’s not only about her partner. It’s also about a lifetime of learning that her certainty needed to be earned, defended, double-checked before it counted. The credibility she has to fight for at work follows her home, and a partner who exploits that isn’t inventing the doubt from nothing. He’s activating a vulnerability the wider world helped build first.
Clinically, this systemic layer shows up as a biological toll that gets consistently underdiscussed. Women who’ve spent years being told, implicitly or explicitly, that their read on a room needs external validation before it’s trustworthy arrive at gaslighting relationships with a nervous system that’s already primed to defer. The chronic stress response isn’t only reacting to the partner in front of them. It’s reacting to a much older, much wider pattern of having their perception treated as provisional.
Here is where reclaiming your reality becomes something bigger than personal repair work, although it’s absolutely that too. It becomes an act of refusing an old inheritance. You’re not just rebuilding trust in your memory of one argument. You’re pushing back against a structural habit of treating women’s certainty as something to be proven rather than something to be assumed, the same way it’s assumed for most men by default. That reframe alone, from personal failure to recognizable pattern, changes what the recovery work feels like. It stops being about what’s wrong with you and starts being about what happened to you, and those are very different starting points for healing. Alleyne put words to this shift better than I ever have. Months into our work together, she told me, “I used to think the problem was that I wasn’t a good enough judge of character. Now I think the problem is that I was never given a fair trial.”
How Do You Start Trusting Your Own Mind Again?
Healing from gaslighting doesn’t happen in a single moment of realization, however much relief that moment brings. It’s a gradual rebuild, one validated memory at a time. Almudena still sits in her car for two minutes before she goes inside, but she isn’t replaying an argument anymore, just breathing. Alleyne’s notebook sits in a drawer she rarely opens. Neither would call herself finished. Both would call herself different. Here’s the order I generally work through with clients, though real recovery rarely moves in a straight line.
Nothing was obviously wrong. Everything felt off.
A focused self-paced course on covert narcissism, gaslighting, and the subtle manipulation patterns that leave no obvious bruises and no clear villain. For when you need to name what happened before you can recover from it.
Stabilize your nervous system first. Before any deeper insight work is useful, your body needs sustained, repeated experiences of actual safety, not manufactured positivity. That might look like consistent sleep, gentle movement, or simply spending time in settings where nobody is contesting your perceptions. Your nervous system has likely been on alert for a long time. This phase isn’t passive waiting. It’s foundational work, and it deserves real investment.
Name what happened with accuracy, not minimization. Gaslighting survivors are often their own harshest minimizers. It wasn’t that bad. He didn’t mean it that way. Maybe I really did misremember. A critical early step is calling the pattern by its accurate name, not to build a case against anyone, but to restore your own perceptions as reliable data. If your memory was repeatedly disputed and your feelings routinely dismissed, that’s worth naming honestly, even if no one else ever agrees with your account.
Rebuild reality-testing with people you trust. Isolation is one of gaslighting’s core mechanisms. It’s easier to distort someone’s reality when she has no one else to check it against. Rebuilding means deliberately investing in a few relationships where you can say, this happened, does this seem reasonable to you, and receive an honest answer. This isn’t about outsourcing your judgment permanently. It’s a temporary scaffold while your own compass recalibrates.
Do the deepest work inside a steady therapeutic relationship. Individual therapy can offer something structurally opposite to a gaslighting dynamic: a relationship that’s honest, consistent, and transparent about what’s actually happening between the two people in the room. In session, we work with the specific imprints left behind, the hypervigilance, the installed self-doubt, and also with the grief. Grief for the relationship you thought you had, for the version of yourself you set aside to keep the peace. That grief is real, and tending to it is part of what makes the recovery durable rather than just managed.
Rebuild your relationship with your own perceptions, one small vote at a time. Recovery from gaslighting is, underneath everything else, the recovery of epistemic trust: believing your perceptions are generally reliable and your emotional responses are meaningful data, not distortions. This gets built back through small, deliberate acts. Noticing a feeling and naming it without immediately second-guessing it. Making a decision and holding it, even when questioned. Writing down what happened while it’s fresh, so you have a record that isn’t subject to revision later. Each one is a small vote for your own mind. They accumulate.
Decide what ongoing contact looks like, with intention rather than default. If the person who gaslit you remains part of your life through co-parenting or family ties, contact needs an explicit strategy: low contact, written communication only, a witness present for shared interactions when possible. These aren’t overcorrections. They’re reasonable protections, chosen deliberately, and choosing them with support is itself an act of self-trust.
You can trust your own mind again. That sentence might feel unbelievable today, and that’s alright. Believability arrives later, once evidence accumulates. No proof is required to begin. Just where you are right now. That’s enough of a starting point.
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In more than 15,000 clinical hours with driven women, I’ve observed that relationship struggles are rarely about the relationship in isolation. They’re about a relational template installed long before she ever met this particular partner. The woman who chose a man who contradicts her reality didn’t make a mistake. Her nervous system made a coherent choice, matching an emotional climate it had already learned to call “familiar” long before it learned to call anything “safe.”
Stephen Porges, PhD, distinguished university scientist at the Kinsey Institute, Indiana University, and developer of Polyvagal Theory, has written about how the nervous system uses what he calls neuroception, an unconscious process of scanning for safety and danger, to decide who feels familiar and who feels foreign. For a woman who grew up with an unpredictable parent, a steady partner doesn’t always register as safe. He can register as boring. Unfamiliar. The wrong shape entirely. Meanwhile the partner who keeps her guessing registers as home, not because she wants chaos, but because her nervous system learned to attach inside uncertainty a long time before she had any say in the matter.
This is why “just choose better” is such thin advice. It’s physiologically naive advice, really. You can’t think your way out of a nervous system template installed before your prefrontal cortex was fully online. What you can do is work with someone who understands the template, helps you see it operating in real time, and offers a different relational experience, one where safety isn’t intermittent and your needs don’t make you “too much.” Over months and years, that steadiness is what actually rewires the system.
Bessel van der Kolk, MD, psychiatrist and trauma researcher at Boston University and author of The Body Keeps the Score, has documented how relational trauma is stored in the body rather than only in narrative memory: in muscle tension, breathing patterns, and startle responses that fire before conscious thought can intervene. That’s why a driven woman can intellectually know her partner’s silence doesn’t mean abandonment and still feel her chest tighten anyway. She isn’t being irrational. Her body learned this threat pattern decades ago, in a different relationship entirely, with someone who looked nothing like the man across the table from her tonight.
Richard Schwartz, PhD, developer of Internal Family Systems therapy, describes how the psyche organizes into protector parts, which manage and control to keep the system safe, and exiled parts, which carry the original pain of not being loved the way she needed. In a driven woman, the protector parts often run the show day to day: the part that monitors for rejection, the part that performs independence so convincingly she sometimes forgets it’s a performance.
Underneath those protectors are the exiled parts, the ones most general talk therapy never quite reaches. The young, tender parts still carrying the grief of a child who wanted steady attention and learned instead to earn it through achievement. Those exiled parts don’t disappear because she built a career or married a good man later. They wait, sometimes for decades, until someone creates a container safe enough for them to finally speak.
That container is what trauma-informed therapy offers. Not just better communication strategies, though those come too. A relationship where the exiled part can finally be witnessed and, eventually, unburdened. When that happens, something shifts in her outside relationships as well, not because she’s been “fixed,” but because the part of her that had been quietly running the relationship from a place of old fear is no longer the one steering.
If what you’ve read here resonates, know that individual therapy and executive coaching are both available for driven women ready to do this work. You can also explore my self-paced recovery courses or schedule a complimentary consultation to find the right fit.
Q: What are the common signs of gaslighting in a relationship?
A: Gaslighting often shows up as persistent denial of your experiences, making you doubt your memory, feelings, or perception of reality. You might feel confused, anxious, or unsure whether you’re overreacting. Other signs include a partner minimizing your emotions, shifting blame, or repeatedly telling you that you’re too sensitive. Over time, this erodes trust in your own mind, which is why recognizing the pattern early matters.
Q: How can I start trusting my own thoughts and feelings again after gaslighting?
A: Rebuilding trust in your own mind begins with validating your experiences without immediate self-judgment. Grounding techniques and detailed journaling can help you reconnect with your internal sense of what’s true. It’s a gradual process of separating your actual reality from the distortions that were imposed on it, usually with the support of a trusted therapist or a few carefully chosen people who won’t minimize what happened.
Q: Is gaslighting the same thing as lying or ordinary manipulation?
A: Gaslighting is a specific, sustained form of manipulation aimed at making you question your reality, memory, and sense of self, rather than a single false statement. Lying is stating something untrue once. Gaslighting is a pattern over time that targets your perception itself. That distinction matters clinically because it changes how you rebuild trust, both internally and in future relationships.
Q: Can gaslighting happen outside of romantic relationships?
A: Yes. Gaslighting can occur in any relationship where a power imbalance allows one person to control the narrative, including friendships, family relationships, and workplaces. Recognizing the pattern across different contexts helps you set boundaries and protect your mental health, regardless of the relationship label involved.
Q: What should I do if I think I’m being gaslighted right now?
A: Start by naming the pattern to yourself honestly, without needing anyone else’s agreement first. Documenting incidents in real time can help counteract the self-doubt that builds when memory is repeatedly contested. Working with a therapist provides a safe space to examine what’s happened and rebuild inner trust, and setting boundaries, or distance where possible, can protect your wellbeing while that work happens.
Q: How does therapy specifically help with the after-effects of gaslighting?
A: Therapy focuses on restoring a client’s confidence in her own perceptions by first naming what happened accurately and then working through the nervous system patterns the gaslighting left behind. This process rebuilds epistemic self-trust gradually, helping clients feel grounded in their own judgment and identity again rather than dependent on external validation.
Related Reading
Stark, Evan. Coercive Control: How Men Entrap Women in Personal Life. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007.
Sweet, Paige L. “The Sociology of Gaslighting.” American Sociological Review 84, no. 5 (2019): 851 to 875.
Herman, Judith Lewis. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence, from Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. New York: Basic Books, 1992.
Rosenberg, Marshall B. Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life. Encinitas, CA: PuddleDancer Press, 2003.
Annie’s mini-course Normalcy After the Narcissist was built for exactly this kind of recovery.
References
Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)
- van der Kolk BA, Wang JB, Yehuda R, Bedrosian L, Coker AR, Harrison C, et al. Effects of MDMA-assisted therapy for PTSD on self-experience. PLoS One. 2024;19(1):e0295926. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0295926. PMID: 38198456.
- Porges SW. Polyvagal Theory: Current Status, Clinical Applications, and Future Directions. Clin Neuropsychiatry. 2025;22(3):169-184. doi:10.36131/cnfioritieditore20250301. PMID: 40735382.
- Brenner EG, Schwartz RC, Becker C. Development of the internal family systems model: Honoring contributions from family systems therapies. Fam Process. 2023;62(4):1290-1306. doi:10.1111/famp.12943. PMID: 37924221.
- Sweet PL. Good-guy gaslighting and manipulativeness in intimate partnerships. J Fam Psychol. 2024. PMID: 39376937.
- Intimate partner sexual violence prevalence and disclosure patterns. J Interpers Violence. 2024. PMID: 38336660.
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LMFT · Relational Trauma Specialist · W.W. Norton Author
Helping driven women finally feel as good as their résumé looks.
As a licensed psychotherapist, trauma-informed executive coach, and relational trauma specialist with over 15,000 clinical hours, she guides driven women, including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs, in repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.
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