Safe Space: When You’ve Been Taught Not To Trust Yourself

By Jessica Steinmetz, LMHC, CASAC-G

Question:

My husband has been in recovery for almost a year. Things seem better, but I still find myself second-guessing everything. When something feels off, I immediately wonder if I’m imagining things or making it into something bigger than it is. I spent so many years hearing that I was crazy or overreacting, that I don’t even know how to trust my own instincts anymore. Will this ever get better?

Answer:

Yes. It can get better. What you’re describing is something I see all the time, even if it’s not something people talk about openly.

When you’re living alongside addiction, the impact isn’t only in the obvious places: the lying, the hiding, and the chaos. It’s in what happens to your sense of reality.

Addiction rarely travels alone. It brings deflection with it—minimizing, denying, shifting things just enough so that the person asking the questions starts to feel like the problem. You notice something, bring it up, and somehow, you’re the one who ends up apologizing.

That doesn’t just affect the relationship. It changes how you relate to yourself.

Over time, you stop trusting your instincts. You start editing your reactions before you even fully feel them. You learn to ask, “Am I overreacting?” before you ask, “What am I noticing?” After years of being told you were wrong, that self-doubt doesn’t just stay in the marriage, it follows you everywhere you go.

So now, even with things getting better, something feels off: a tone, a behavior, a shift you can’t quite name. And instead of staying with that feeling, your reflex is to talk yourself out of it.

That reflex didn’t come from nowhere. It was learned. And it was learned in an environment where trusting yourself didn’t feel safe.

Here’s what I want you to hold onto: your instincts didn’t disappear. They were questioned for so long that you learned not to trust them.

That’s an important distinction. You’re not broken. You’re not damaged. You adapted to a very disorienting set of circumstances, and those adaptations don’t disappear just because things have gotten better. They unwind slowly, with intention and support.

So where do you start?

Start with what you’re noticing, not whether you’re right.

The first shift is a small one, but it matters. When something feels off, instead of immediately asking yourself if you’re overreacting, try asking, “What am I noticing?”

I notice his tone felt different tonight. I notice he is on his phone more. I notice this situation feels familiar. I notice I feel anxious when this comes up.

You’re not making an accusation. You’re not starting a fight. You’re giving yourself permission to observe without immediately dismissing it. That permission, small as it sounds, is where self-trust starts to come back.

Learn the difference between anxiety and intuition.

They can feel similar, but they move differently. Anxiety rushes you. It pushes for answers and certainty. It tells you to act now, confront now, and resolve it now.

Intuition is quieter. It lingers. It doesn’t force; it stays.

Part of rebuilding trust in yourself is learning to slow down enough to tell the difference. You don’t have to act on every feeling immediately. But you also don’t have to talk yourself out of it. Give it time. See if it stays.

Look at your boundaries and communicate them clearly. This is where the real work happens, and it’s also where things get harder before they get easier. Most women in this situation have some sense of what boundaries they need. What they’re less sure of is whether they’re allowed to have them, and whether they can hold them when they’re challenged. Because they will be challenged.

Here is the fine print that most people don’t tell you: when you start communicating your concerns clearly and holding your boundaries firmly, it will get messy. He may push back. He may say mean things. He may tell you that you’re wrong, that you’re overreacting, that you’re being unfair. He may do the very things he’s always done when he felt cornered.

That reaction is not proof that you were wrong. It’s proof that the boundary landed.

Holding a boundary when someone is challenging it, questioning your perspective, or calling you names is one of the hardest things to do. It goes against every instinct you’ve developed over years of keeping the peace. But every time you hold it, you send yourself a message: What I feel is real, and I am allowed to act on it.

That is how trust comes back. Not all at once, but through repetition—small moments where you choose not to ignore yourself.

You don’t have to do this alone.

When your sense of reality has been questioned over and over, sorting through what’s real and what’s the residue of everything you’ve been through is hard to do by yourself. It helps to have someone in your corner, not to tell you what to think, but to help you hear yourself more clearly.

That support exists. It’s for you, not as an afterthought to his recovery, but as something you deserve in your own right.

You’ve spent a long time assuming you were wrong.

You don’t have to keep doing that.

If you or someone you know is struggling or has questions about gambling, substance use, or habits that feel harder to control than they should, support is available. Questions may be submitted anonymously to [email protected]; selected questions will be addressed in future columns. For confidential support, call (718) GET-SAFE. 

Jessica Steinmetz, LMHC, CASAC-G is the clinical director of The Safe Foundation, an outpatient treatment program licensed by NYS OASAS and NJ DMHAS, providing confidential, professional services for individuals and families affected by substance use and gambling disorders. We offer respectful and culturally sensitive support delivered with a deep understanding of the values and dynamics that shape the communities we serve.