As told to Ann DeGrey.

I've always enjoyed a drink. Not in a wild or reckless way, just a couple of glasses of wine with dinner, something to mark the end of the day.

I work hard and I like cooking. So sitting down with a glass of red has always felt like a little reward. It was never something I worried about or felt ashamed of.

Around a year ago, work became very difficult.

I had a new manager who seemed to single me out, constantly criticising my work and questioning my decisions in front of others. I dreaded going into the office. I was anxious and on edge most days.

Some nights, I'd pour myself a third glass of wine. Not every night. It wasn't like I was trying to numb myself, it was just to take the edge off. It didn't feel out of control by any means. But my partner Greg* noticed. Or at least, he said he did.

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At first, his comments sounded caring. "Do you think you're drinking a bit more than usual?" he'd ask.

Or, "You seem really dependent on wine lately." I laughed it off because we all go through stressful periods.

So I told him I was fine and he shouldn't be worried about me. But he didn't drop it. In fact, he ramped it up. He started pointing out every time I opened a bottle. He'd comment on the size of my pours. If I forgot something small, like where I left my phone or whether I'd replied to an email, he'd say, "That's the wine talking."

If I was tired or emotional, he'd say, "You've been drinking again, haven't you?" Eventually, it got into my head. I began to second-guess myself. Was I drinking too much?

Was I forgetting things? Was I relying on alcohol more than I realised? When someone you love keeps telling you something about yourself, you start to believe them, even when it doesn't quite match how you feel inside.

Greg took it further and suggested I talk to someone. He said it was "coming from a place of concern." He told me his friends had noticed it too, although I never heard that from anyone else directly.

He said he was worried I was becoming someone he didn't recognise. That really scared me, so I booked therapy.

I sat in that room and talked about my stress, my job, my anxiety, and yes, my drinking. The therapist didn't think I had a serious issue, but suggested being mindful, cutting back and finding other ways to cope. I took it seriously because I wanted to prove to myself as much as to Greg that I wasn't the problem he kept implying I was.

I cut down to one glass. Then none on weeknights.

I exercised more and started to meditate. And still, Greg kept finding fault. He'd say I seemed "foggy" and that I was rarely present.

He also told me my mood swings were concerning. He said therapy clearly wasn't working and then he even accused me of hiding alcohol, which made me laugh at first, until I realised he was serious.

The turning point when I was cleaning out the garage. Behind a box of old tools, I found several empty wine bottles. Then more bottles, hidden behind paint tins, tucked into a corner I never went near. Some weren't brands I even drank and would never buy. So I started noticing other things.

The recycling bin was filling up faster than usual. Then I noticed the smell of alcohol on Greg's breath at unusual times, like first thing in the morning. I also saw bottles shoved into cupboards I rarely opened.

Then it hit me; he wasn't worried about my drinking. He was hiding his own.

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When I confronted him, he denied it and said I was being paranoid. He also said that I was projecting. But when I showed him the bottles, he went quiet then angry.

Then he got all defensive. And then he admitted he'd been drinking heavily for months, mostly in secret.

He said he was ashamed and said it was easier to focus on my habits than face his own.

So that's when everything clicked.

All the accusations and the way he'd made me doubt my own reality. He wasn't just lying, he was gaslighting me, to deflect attention from himself.

There was no way I could stay in that relationship. I left him a few weeks later. It took a good year for me to rebuild my confidence and to trust my own perceptions again. I had to stop myself from hearing his voice in my head every time I poured a glass of wine.

I've learned something I wish I didn't have to learn: gaslighting doesn't always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like concern or worry, like someone is "just trying to help."

*Names have been changed to protect identities.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons. The feature image used is a stock photo.

Feature Image: Getty.