I Didn’t Realize It Was Abuse—Until I Did

You don’t wake up one morning and suddenly realize you’re in an emotionally abusive relationship. That’s not how it works. It’s a slow unraveling. A quiet erosion. A steady drip of confusion that dulls your instincts until you no longer trust your own gut.

Every time I got close to the truth of what was going on, I was pulled back in. I rationalized. I minimized. I clung to hope because it was the only thing that felt familiar.

Emotional abuse rarely begins with cruelty. It begins with intensity, charm, and connection. The kind that makes you believe you’ve finally found someone who sees you in a way no one else ever has. By the time you realize you’re drowning, you’ve been in the water so long that you no longer remember what it felt like to breathe freely.

The Manipulation I Didn’t See—Until I Did

My ex-fiancé was a master at shifting the goalposts. What was acceptable one week became offensive the next. When I handled things with the care he asked for (which was similar to the care I give my daughter..not adults), I was still wrong. No matter how hard I tried, it was never enough.

When he needed help managing his budget, I did it. When I tried to set boundaries, he ignored them or told me I was irrational. When I expressed how I felt, he flipped the script and made me the villain for even speaking up because I was “putting too much on him.”

I allowed it to happen because I thought I was being understanding. I believed I was supporting someone who was struggling. He had a lot going on. I had been taught that love meant patience, flexibility, and grace - but that also meant manipulation and abuse.

At the time, I didn’t have the language for what was happening. I only knew that I always left those conversations feeling like I was the problem.

Now I understand that I was experiencing DARVO—Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender. Each time I brought up something that hurt me, he twisted it. If I was upset, he was more upset that I would even say something. If I voiced a need, I was accused of being selfish. If I tried to set a boundary, I was labeled controlling.

Every interaction became a trap. Every attempt at honesty was used against me.

The Gaslighting Was Relentless

He rewrote history so often that I began to doubt my own memory. He insisted I had been “mean all week” when I had been carefully walking on eggshells and being hyper focused on my tone. He accused me of pushing him away when all I had done was ask for time to think.

Each argument ended the same way: with me apologizing for something I didn’t do and wondering if I was the one destroying the relationship.

What I didn’t yet realize was that I was no longer just emotionally overwhelmed—I was physiologically trapped. My nervous system was in a constant state of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. I was trying to survive something my body knew was dangerous, even when my mind hadn’t caught up.

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The Emotional Rollercoaster of Trauma Bonding

I knew the relationship was unhealthy. I felt it in my chest, in my body, in the way my world kept shrinking. I didn’t laugh as much. I didn’t rest. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. Still, every time I tried to pull away, he reeled me back in. He made it impossible, like the entire world would collapse if I left. I would often settle asking for space.

He wasn’t always cruel. Sometimes, he was the man I fell in love with at the beginning. He said the right things. He wrote them down. He painted a future I wanted to believe in. He reminded me of the version of him I had been holding onto for so long.

And that is the trap of trauma bonding. It is addictive. It hijacks your nervous system and wires you to chase the very person who is hurting you. You begin to confuse relief for love. You interpret the absence of harm as connection.

Every tender moment, every apology, every “I love you, I need you” made me downplay the times he withheld affection, punished me with silence, or turned my own words against me.

Those were not glimpses of the real man. They were part of the cycle of abuse and his control.

What made it hardest to leave wasn’t the pain, it was the hope. I held the belief that if I could just do one more thing right, maybe it would go back to the beginning. Maybe all of the therapy he was doing for trauma would help. Maybe I could earn back the version of him that never actually existed. But I didn’t need to “earn” anything. I wasn’t doing anything wrong….other than abandoning myself.

The Moments I Knew—And Still Struggled

I remember being sick—feverish, depleted—and he barely noticed. He was so consumed with his own stress and his own story that my suffering didn’t even register. In that moment, I realized how little space I occupied in his emotional world because he had to break through his feelings, emotions, theories, judgements, before he could even acknowledge that I existed.

At one point, when I realized he was relentlessly selfish, I tried setting a boundary around texting. He blew past it immediately. It wasn’t a mistake. It was a test. He was watching to see if he still had access to me, and I watched myself respond—knowing full well what he was doing, but still hoping he might finally understand.

He often walked into my space without asking. He took what he wanted without warning. I knew it was an intimidation tactic, even if I didn’t want to call it that at the time. He was making it clear that my space was only mine if he allowed it to be.

Instead of supporting me as a parent, he made it about his own hurt. That was the moment something shifted within me. He wasn’t just neglecting my needs—he was sabotaging my ability to exist outside of him.

Even with all of this, I stayed longer than I want to admit. Shame convinced me I had failed. Shame told me I should have seen it sooner. But shame was part of the trap. Abusers rely on it. They know that if we carry enough guilt, we’ll keep ourselves small. We’ll stay.

The Hard Truth: He Knew What He Was Doing

For so long, I tried to make sense of his behavior. I wanted to understand it. I wanted to fix it. I wanted him to work on his own trauma.

Eventually, I had to accept the truth: he wasn’t confused. He wasn’t unaware. He wasn’t broken. He was deliberate.

He had been told his behavior was abusive by me and the couples therapist. He had been in therapy. He had been given tools. He had been offered clarity - and he still chose to harm me because he could not get out of his own way.

He didn’t lack the capacity to change. He lacked the desire to let go of control. And that was more important to him than loving me in a healthy way.

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How I Finally Broke Free

Recognizing the abuse was one thing. Acting on it was another.

I started documenting everything—each boundary violation, every manipulative conversation, every pattern I had normalized. I stopped trying to win the argument. I stopped trying to explain the harm back to the person causing it.

I stopped believing he would change. This was the hardest part but I literally told myself every day that he would not change.

When I finally left, he did exactly what I expected. He begged. He promised. He performed remorse. And when that didn’t work, he escalated—because that is what abusers do when they lose control.

But I did not go back.

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If You’re in This Situation

If any part of this feels familiar, I want you to know something.

You are not crazy. You are not too sensitive. You are not imagining things. You are not the problem.

You are waking up to the truth, and once you see it clearly, you cannot unsee it.

You do not need more proof. You do not need his permission to walk away. You do not need to wait for something to break in order to leave.

You already know - and knowing is enough.

You do not need to collapse in order to justify your decision. Quiet clarity is enough. You do not need to set everything on fire to escape. You only need to choose yourself.

If this feels like your story—or something close to it—you are not alone. That feeling in your chest is not confusion. It is your truth. It is your body trying to lead you out.

I work with women who are navigating trauma bonds, high-conflict divorce, and the emotional wreckage left behind by coercive and narcissistic abuse.

If you are ready to reclaim your voice, rebuild your identity, and come back to yourself, I can help.

📍 Explore courses, coaching, and free resources at emotionalabusecoach.com
📍 Listen to my Podcast: You Are Not Crazy

You are not alone. You are not too much.
You are waking up—and that changes everything.