Death by a Thousand Million Lies: When Reality Stops Feeling Real

Discarded “fake news” sign Photo by Daniel von Appen via Unsplash

I’ve been thinking a lot about the lies we’re all steeped in lately.
Not the big, dramatic ones that make headlines.
The quiet ones.
The steady drip-drip-drip that wears you down until you’re exhausted, confused, and second-guessing your own sense of reality.

And it’s not just politics.
It’s what so many of my clients live through in private: a slow erosion of reality caused by people who need to control the narrative at all costs. A parent. A partner. A public figure behind a podium with too much confidence and not nearly enough truth. A thousand million lies, and your nervous system pays the price every single time.

If this feels like a lot, that’s because it is. Give yourself a moment. It’s okay to go slow.

When Someone Rewrites Reality (And You Start Doubting Yourself)

Lately, the word “narcissist” gets thrown around a lot - about parents, bosses, exes, even politicians. Sometimes it fits. Other times it’s just shorthand for: this person hurt me in ways I don’t yet have the language for.

The label isn’t the point. The behavior is.

Here’s the pattern people are reaching for when they use the word narcissist:

• Someone who twists reality to stay in control.

• Someone who makes everything about them, no matter the cost.

• Someone who leaves others doubting what they saw, felt, or know to be true

• Someone indifferent to the impact of their actions.

And the part we often overlook? How all of this lands in your body long before your mind can catch up. Your nervous system registers the distortion first: the fogginess, the tension, the sense that something is off, even when the story sounds polished and convincing.

You don’t need a diagnosis to understand the impact. What matters is how it feels in your body:

• You start questioning your memory.

• You second-guess your instincts.

• You feel foggy or “off.”

• You wonder why everything feels harder than it should.

That’s not you being dramatic.
It’s your nervous system responding to chronic distortion, the kind that mirrors emotional abuse even when the relationship isn’t “officially” abusive.

And sometimes, these distortions aren’t private at all. They play out in public, where they affect entire communities.

When Private Gaslighting Goes Public

I’m watching the same dynamics play out on a national level:
The slow, grinding erosion of what’s real.
The gaslighting. The denial.
The confident insistence that you didn’t hear what you heard or see what you saw.

When someone in power lies constantly, it’s not “just politics.”
It reshapes the emotional environment we’re all living in.

You hear another wild claim and think, I can’t keep up anymore.
And that is exactly how nervous system overwhelm sets in, especially for Highly Sensitive People who absorb tone shifts, inconsistencies, and micro-distortions faster than most.

Take a moment to notice your body here. You might feel tightness, or even a subtle sinking sensation. That’s your nervous system registering what’s happening around you. Ground yourself if you need to: place a hand on your heart, take a slow breath, or notice your butt in the chair, your feet on the floor.

This isn’t about left or right.
It’s about what repeated public distortion does to human beings: confusion, anxiety, and emotional exhaustion on a massive scale.

Why Your Brain Feels Foggy and Overloaded

When clients come into session lately, I hear versions of the same thing:

“I feel confused all the time.”
“I don’t know what’s true anymore.”
“I feel like I’m losing my grip.”
“I’m exhausted from trying to make sense of everything.”

And it makes perfect sense.

We’re living in a culture where things that are objectively hard: rising costs, shrinking safety nets, growing instability — are being brushed off as if you’re imagining them.

When someone says, “Everything’s great!” but your grocery bill doubled, your insurance premium tripled, and your neighbor lost Medicaid coverage while working full-time, your body registers the contradiction.

Your mind argues.
Your nervous system reacts.

This is the same psychological pattern as toxic family systems: minimize, deny, distort, confuse, blame, repeat.

No wonder your chest feels tight.
No wonder your sleep is off.
No wonder your anxiety spikes even when nothing “big” is happening.

You’re living in an environment that undermines your reality every single day.

Why Highly Sensitive People Feel the Impact First

Highly Sensitive People don’t have the luxury of numbness.

Your nervous system is wired to notice the subtle stuff like tone shifts, inconsistencies, changes in facial expression, the energy in a room. You pick up the micro-cracks long before anyone else recognizes what’s happening.

It’s not weakness. It’s acuity.

But when the world is this loud, and the lies are this constant, and the emotional temperature is this high, that sensitivity becomes exhausting.

You’re not imagining the toll.
You’re not “too delicate.”
You’re not overreacting.

You’re simply experiencing what’s happening in real time — without the protective layer of denial many people rely on.

Your sensitivity isn’t the problem.
The environment is.

The Slow Erosion of Truth (And What It Does to You)

It’s not just truth that gets worn down.
It’s you.

A lie here, a denial there.
Someone insisting the sky is green even as you stare at a blue horizon.
A leader shrugging off a crisis.
A parent rewriting history.
A partner telling you you’re overreacting.
A system insisting you’re safe while stripping away the very supports you depend on.

None of these things are huge on their own.
But together, they grind you down until:

You feel unstable.
You doubt your own judgment.
You collapse into freeze or numbness.
You stop naming what’s real because you’re too damn tired.

That’s the psychological equivalent of death by a thousand cuts — or in this case, a thousand million lies.

Not dramatic.
Not cinematic.
Just slow, constant erosion.

A Portland Arrest That Shows the Pattern

A few weeks ago, a family friend of mine was arrested at a protest in Portland. One minute they were playing Ghostbusters on their clarinet, and the next they were pulled into a scuffle they had nothing to do with. Ori is a parent, a partner, and a therapist who has spent years showing up for people with far less protection and privilege.

As is true with many ICE or Border Patrol arrests, there’s video of what actually happened: Ori standing near the fence outside the ICE facility, officers tackling someone else, the chaos pushing them into the chain-link fence. They fell onto their back — backpack on, rain gear on, clarinet still in hand. On the ground, an officer moved toward them, and they lifted a foot, a reflex clearly visible on the footage. Seconds later, they were flipped onto their stomach and several agents piled on.

When the “Official Story” Doesn’t Match Reality

Later, ICE released its statement: felony assault of a federal officer, including an allegation of biting — something nowhere visible on the video.

This is the pattern: the official version contradicting the footage, the lived moment replaced with a narrative crafted to justify force.

Seeing this happen to someone I know — someone literally playing an instrument minutes earlier — drives the point home.

This is what death by a thousand million lies looks like.

Not one dramatic untruth, but countless distortions that erode trust, safety, and reality itself.

And the harm doesn’t stop with the person arrested.
It ripples outward into families, friends, entire communities — raising anxiety, fear, and helplessness.
The psychological impact is real, and it’s heavy.

So What Actually Helps?

Not “positive thinking.”
Not “just ignore the news.”
Not “stay neutral.”

What helps is quieter and more rebellious:

1. Trust your perception.
If something feels off, it is. If something feels confusing, there’s a reason. Your nervous system isn’t lying to you.

2. Name what’s real, even gently.
You don’t have to debate strangers online.
Just saying to yourself, “No, that’s not true,” keeps your brain anchored.

3. Allow yourself to feel the impact.
Overwhelm isn’t a failure.
It’s a sign you’re awake and paying attention.

4. Create small pockets of reality.
Conversations with people who aren’t gaslighting themselves.
Moments of quiet.
Grounding rituals.
Music. Your dogs. Your breath.

5. Remember this:
Your sensitivity is not the problem.
Your clarity is not a burden.
Your body is not betraying you.

You see the cracks early because you’re wired to notice what others miss.

You’re Not Overreacting

If you’re feeling unmoored, anxious, overwhelmed, or exhausted, there’s nothing wrong with you.

You’re responding appropriately to a culture that keeps telling you not to believe your own senses. You’re noticing what’s real in a moment when unreality is the loudest thing in the room.

And naming it — quietly acknowledging, “This is a lie, and I feel the impact” — is a small, radical act of staying human.

Truth doesn’t die in one explosion.
Truth dies from exhaustion, distortion, confusion, and neglect.

The way we keep it alive is simple, small, and deeply brave:

We notice.
We name.
We refuse to pretend.

And that’s how you — and the rest of us — survive a thousand million lies.

Disclaimer: Reading this blog isn’t the same as therapy. If you’re struggling, please reach out to a licensed mental health professional — you don’t have to do this alone.