When “It Wasn’t That Bad” Keeps Showing Up: Understanding Minimising After Abuse

If you find yourself thinking "it wasn't that bad" or "others had it worse," even when part of you knows something harmful happened, you're not alone. These phrases and the doubt that comes with them, can show up repeatedly after experiences that were confusing, frightening or left you feeling unsafe. Sometimes it appears the moment you begin to name what happened. Other times it arrives months or years later, just as you're starting to make sense of things.

This article is for anyone who's noticed themselves downplaying or questioning their own experiences, particularly after abuse or other harmful situations. Maybe you're not sure whether "abuse" is the right word for what you went through. Maybe you're certain it was serious, but still catch yourself thinking it doesn't count somehow. Either way, if something doesn't feel quite right, that's enough of a reason to explore what's going on.

A note about language

The title uses "abuse" because that's the search term many people use when they're trying to make sense of confusing or harmful experiences. If that word doesn't fit for you right now, you can read this as being about any experience that felt unsafe, controlling, violating or left you questioning your own perception of what happened. There's no threshold you need to meet for your experience to matter.

What I describe here applies whether you're navigating something recent or making sense of something from years ago. The patterns of minimising tend to show up regardless of when the harmful experiences occurred.

What minimising looks like in real life

Minimising isn't just saying "it wasn't that bad" out loud. It's the internal commentary that follows you around, the comparisons you make, the explanations you offer yourself for why something that hurt you doesn't really count.

You might notice thoughts arriving like: "They didn't mean it that way." "I'm probably overreacting." "It only happened a few times." "They were stressed." "I should have been clearer." "At least they didn't do something worse." These thoughts can feel automatic, like they arrive before you've had chance to consider whether they're actually true or helpful. They can feel more like reflexes than reasoned conclusions.

Sometimes minimising shows up in how you talk about what happened. You might use softened language like "difficult," "complicated," or "not ideal" when describing situations that were genuinely frightening or harmful. You might laugh it off, preface it with "it's not a big deal, but..." or frame it as something quirky about the other person rather than something that affected you. This isn't dishonesty. It's often a way of managing how much weight the experience carries, for yourself and for others.

Minimising can also appear as comparison. You might measure your experience against stories you've heard or read about, deciding yours wasn't "bad enough" because it didn't match a particular image of what abuse looks like. If there were moments of kindness or affection alongside the harm, or if the person who hurt you was also someone you cared about, that complexity can make it harder to name what happened without immediately questioning whether you're being fair.

Why this pattern develops

Minimising isn't a character flaw or a sign that what happened to you wasn't serious. It's a protective strategy your mind uses to help you cope with something overwhelming, confusing or difficult to reconcile.

When you're in a harmful situation, or just coming out of one, your brain is trying to manage a lot at once. There's the reality of what's happening, the need to survive it, the relationships or circumstances that tie you to it and the emotional weight of naming it for what it is. Minimising can make that weight more manageable. If it "wasn't that bad," you don't have to face the full impact yet. You can keep functioning, maintain relationships or avoid decisions you're not ready to make. In that sense, minimising can act as a kind of psychological pacing mechanism, allowing you to take in only as much as you can handle at any given time.

Sometimes minimising develops because the situation itself was confusing. If someone was kind one day and cruel the next, or if they told you that your perception was wrong, or if they framed their behaviour as love or care, your sense of what was real can become blurred. In that context, minimising can feel like the only way to make sense of conflicting information. It's easier to think "maybe I'm wrong" than to sit with "maybe they're hurting me." This is particularly common in relationships where someone's words and actions don't match, or where you're told your feelings are invalid.

There's also a social element. If you've absorbed messages, whether direct or indirect, that abuse looks a certain way, happens to certain people, or requires a particular level of severity to count, you might apply those ideas to yourself. If your experience doesn't match those narrow definitions, minimising can feel like the logical conclusion, even when your own lived experience tells you something different. Cultural narratives about what "real" abuse looks like can be powerful, and they don't always reflect the messy, complicated reality of harmful relationships.

For many people, minimising also protects against judgment or disbelief. If you're not sure others will understand or believe you, it can feel safer to downplay what happened before they have chance to question it. That instinct makes sense. It's a way of protecting yourself from further harm, from having to defend your experience, or from facing someone else's discomfort with what you're sharing.

Common thoughts that can show up

Minimising often arrives with a familiar set of thoughts. You don't have to relate to all of these, but you might recognise some. I'm listing these not to tell you what you're thinking, but because people often describe similar patterns, and seeing them named can sometimes make them easier to notice.

You might find yourself thinking "others had it worse." This thought measures your experience against an imagined scale and decides yours doesn't rank highly enough to matter. The trouble with this logic is that suffering isn't a competition, and your pain doesn't become less real because someone else's looks different.

"It only happened once, or a few times, or occasionally" is another pattern. Frequency doesn't determine whether something was harmful. A single incident can be deeply affecting. Repeated harm can be just as significant whether it happened three times or three hundred.

You might notice the thought "they didn't hit me" appearing. This assumes that physical violence is the only thing that counts as abuse. Emotional, psychological, financial, and sexual harm are all real, even when they don't leave visible marks.

"I provoked it" is a particularly painful one, because it shifts responsibility away from the person who caused harm and places it on you. Even if you were angry, confused, or made mistakes, that doesn't justify someone else's harmful behaviour toward you. Your imperfection doesn't invite mistreatment.

Some people notice thoughts like "they had a difficult childhood, mental health struggles, or their own trauma." Understanding why someone behaved the way they did can be important, and compassion for their struggles is possible. At the same time, an explanation for their behaviour doesn't erase the impact on you. Both things can be true.

"I stayed, so it can't have been that bad" is another common pattern. Leaving is complicated. There are practical, emotional, financial, and safety reasons why people stay in harmful situations. Staying doesn't mean you consented to being hurt, and it doesn't mean the situation was tolerable.

You might also notice "I still love them" or "I miss them" showing up alongside memories of harm. Love and harm can exist in the same relationship. Missing someone who hurt you doesn't mean the hurt wasn't real or that you're confused about what happened. Relationships are rarely simple, and caring about someone doesn't cancel out the damage they caused.

These thoughts aren't fixed beliefs you have to accept. They're patterns that developed for reasons that made sense at the time. Noticing them when you feel ready, can be a first step in understanding how minimising has shaped your relationship with your own experience.

How self-doubt forms alongside minimising

When you're repeatedly telling yourself that your experience wasn't significant, or that you're misremembering, or that you're overreacting, it can start to erode your trust in your own perception. Self-doubt and minimising often reinforce each other, creating a loop that can be difficult to step out of.

You might begin to question not just what happened, but your ability to interpret experiences accurately. If someone told you that your version of events was wrong or that you were too sensitive, those messages can linger. Over time, they can make it harder to trust your own judgment about what felt safe and what didn't. This erosion of trust doesn't happen all at once. It builds gradually, until you might find yourself second-guessing even clear memories or strong gut feelings.

This kind of doubt can extend beyond the specific situation. You might find yourself second-guessing your feelings in other contexts, wondering if you're being unreasonable or if you're reading too much into things. It can affect your relationships, your sense of self, and your willingness to speak up when something doesn't feel right. Some people describe feeling like they need external validation for their own experiences, as though their feelings don't count unless someone else confirms them.

Sometimes people describe feeling like they're "making it up" or "being dramatic," even when they have clear memories of what happened. That disconnect between what you remember and what you're allowing yourself to believe can be exhausting and isolating. It can also keep you stuck because if you can't fully acknowledge what happened, it's difficult to begin processing it. You might find yourself caught between knowing something was wrong and being unable to fully trust that knowing.

How counselling can help

If minimising has been part of how you've coped, abuse therapy offers a space to slowly, carefully untangle what happened without pressure to reach particular conclusions or use specific language.

In person-centred therapy, you lead. I'm not here to diagnose you or tell you what your experience means. Instead, we work together to explore what feels true for you, at a pace that feels manageable. If you're not ready to name something as abuse, or if you're uncertain whether that word fits, that's fine. We can work with whatever language feels right. Some people find it takes time to settle on the words that capture their experience and that process itself can be part of the work.

We might look at patterns you've noticed: the thoughts that keep showing up, the ways you talk about your experiences, the moments when self-doubt feels strongest. We can explore where those patterns come from and whether they're still serving you or whether they're getting in the way of making sense of things. There's no pressure to share more than you feel ready for and there's no timeline for this work. Some sessions might focus on small observations. Others might go deeper. You set the pace.

For many people, counselling provides something they haven't had before: someone who witnesses their story without judgment, comparison or an agenda. Someone who won't minimise what happened, won't tell you you're being too sensitive, and won't rush you toward conclusions you're not ready for. For others, it's about rebuilding trust in their own perception, learning to notice when minimising happens, and developing a gentler relationship with themselves. It can also be about exploring what comes next, once you've begun to see the patterns more clearly.

If you'd like to talk, I offer a complimentary 15-minute telephone consultation. It's a friendly, no-obligation way to see if it feels like the right fit. You can reach me through my contact page, and we can arrange a time that works for you. I offer in-person sessions in North Manchester, as well as online, telephone, and walking therapy options.

You don't have to face this alone, and you don't have to have it all figured out before you reach out. I'm here when you're ready.

Additional support: If you're in immediate danger, please call 999 or 112. For confidential support with domestic abuse, the National Domestic Abuse Helpline is available 24/7 on 0808 2000 247. The NHS also provides guidance on getting help for domestic violence and abuse.