“Emotional abuse is any pattern of behavior that undermines a person’s sense of self-worth and reality.” ~Beverly Engel
At first, the changes were small.
I stopped wearing that dress that everyone loved because they said it didn’t look good on me. I let some friendships end because it made him uncomfortable. I laughed less at things he didn’t find funny.
I checked my face to make sure my expression was pleasing her. I just shrank a little, so that no one else would notice.
Then it became bigger.
I stopped trusting my judgment because she told me I was too sensitive. Or that he didn’t do what he actually did. Or that he didn’t say what he said. Or that he didn’t remember.
There were times when I started believing their version of reality.
I second-guessed every decision. I asked for permission to do things I did naturally. I drafted and edited everything I thought about saying, trying to get it right before it came out of my mouth.
I even edited my ideas before they were fully developed.
I learned to read it the way a sailor reads the sky. There was a slight change in his tone. A hint. A certain look. The way he set up his phone.
I became exquisitely and painfully attuned to her moods, needs and expectations.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking, “What do I want? What do I need? What is true for me?”
Instead, I ask, “What is the exact thing he wants to hear? What does he need right now? What will keep things calm?”
I stopped listening to my internal compass because I replaced it with something else. His approval. His approval.
Everything was structured around her comfort, her choice and her convenience. We went to the places he wanted to go, we did the things he wanted to do, at the time he wanted to do them, in the way he thought best.
From household projects to outings, my life became a reflection of his priorities.
Then one day, years later, I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I didn’t know who I was anymore.
Things I liked? I can’t remember the last time I did this.
The opinion I used to have? I was no longer sure what they were.
The person I was before this relationship? It felt as if she was dead. Or maybe it was never real.
This was not accidental. That’s what toxic relationships do. They don’t just take up your time, energy or peace. They take away your identity and destroy you.
slowly. silent. One small dedication at a time.
Until the person entering the relationship and the person still standing in it barely recognize each other.
It’s not that you lose yourself. It happens that you lose the ability to find yourself. Because the compass you used to navigate by (your gut, your intuition), that quiet voice that tells you what’s true – is gone.
I didn’t fully realize what I was doing until I started researching.
I hated the term “people pleaser,” so I tried to distance myself from it. But the research forced me to look at the root of my own patterns.
I also had to accept that his behavior was not situational or a one-time incident. Those were patterns I couldn’t deny.
Cognitively, I knew that his babbles and outbursts – which absolutely terrified me – were due to whatever he was going through at the time or the trauma he was going through, or at least that’s what he said.
But since I’ve never seen him react this way to anyone else, I started to believe there was something wrong. Me.
That I was somehow provoking him, and I couldn’t find the right way to stop his misbehavior.
His behavior was so contrary to the image he presented in public that I thought surely people would assume I was the reason for it.
When I tried to speak up or advocate for myself, no matter how gentle and careful I tried to be, I was met with anger.
In moments when I wanted to scream, defend myself, or run away, I would smile or apologize to quell the anger. I controlled my reactions and just focused on calming her down, saying whatever I needed to say to calm her anger.
When you are told several times that your perception is wrong, you eventually stop trusting your eyes.
You say yes to things you don’t have the bandwidth for because saying no feels dangerous.
You feel exhausted all the time, not just from the relationship, but from the constant mental burden of second-guessing every thought, every emotion, every decision.
You get so lost in their voice that your voice becomes silent, and you almost don’t realize what’s happening.
This is why it becomes so difficult to recognize from the inside.
You don’t wake up one day and think, “I’ve lost the ability to trust myself.”
You just…stop believing in yourself.
You think maybe everyone finds it uncertain, or everyone needs to check it out Any Before taking decisions.
But your intuition has not ended. It’s buried beneath countless moments of invalidation, someone else’s reality, and the exhaustion of constantly adapting.
You would think that the more someone loses themselves, the easier it would be to walk away. The pain will eventually outweigh the strain.
But trauma bonds don’t work like that.
There are many reasons why people stay in relationships for years, sometimes even decades, that are slowly destroying them. It’s not because they’re weak or don’t know any better.
One of the main reasons is called the sunk cost fallacy.
The sunk cost fallacy is an economic term that means the more you have invested in something, the harder it is to get rid of it.
I had invested a lot of time, energy, love, hope and even my dreams. I defended the relationship in front of people who loved me and made excuses for it.
I believed in possibilities and persisted in things that would have quickly ended other people’s relationships.
Every time we broke up, I received desperate requests to come back. Grand gestures. The promise that things will change. I didn’t want any project. I wanted a partner. I didn’t want to fix him or anyone. I just wanted to go out! But he had a way of making me feel so guilty.
One moment he was sad, the next he was angry at my leaving, and telling me how I was just another source of trauma in his life.
So I will stay a little longer. Because maybe it will get better. Maybe if I had tried harder. Maybe if I became smaller, quieter, more than she needed.
Maybe if I prove my undying love and loyalty in ways that make me vulnerable, it will eventually work out. Then he will finally see.
The longer I stayed, the more I lost. Just not more time. More about yourself.
And one day, I realized that the cost of living seemed unbearable because I already paid for everything I had.
If you’re reading this and recognizing your own experience, and thinking, “But I’m smart. I’m successful. I should have known better. How did this happen to me?” – Wait there.
Because talking is a matter of shame. And it is lying to you.
Trauma bonds do not take advantage of your weaknesses. They exploit the very qualities that make you who you are. Like your ability to love deeply. Your ability to see the potential in someone. Your willingness to trust someone’s words even when they don’t match their actions.
Your hope is that the loving way they treat you with their family and friends is who they really are, and the way you feel behind closed doors is temporary. Situational. Correctable.
You believe that if you can understand them better, focus on their heart, love them more, or communicate more carefully, the person they show the world to be will eventually show up for you too.
But these are not weaknesses. They are the best parts of you that have been used against you.
This is why intelligent, high achieving, successful people get stuck in these patterns.
Not because they were innocent or weak. But because they believed in one’s ability more than they believed in their discomfort.
Sometimes the only evidence you have is a feeling.
And your brain can’t think of a way out. The cycle of stress and relief (the unpredictable mix of heat and withdrawal) trains your system to crave patterns. Your body becomes accustomed to the stress response. What is healthy begins to seem unfamiliar, and your survival mode is activated. This is why you may know that someone is wrong for you and still feel unable to leave them.
But the person you were before this relationship is not gone.
Every small step you take toward yourself – every boundary you overcome, every moment of clarity, every time you choose your own well-being over that familiar pull – you are finding your way.
You don’t need to go today. You don’t have to figure it all out.
Just remember this.
You were someone before this relationship. And you will be someone after this.
Cost of living will continue to increase. But the price of leaving is the price of becoming yourself again.
And you are worth that price.
Thankfully, intuition doesn’t die. It goes into hibernation.
Start with those small moments.
A small option. “I want tea, not coffee.” A small limit. “I can’t do that today.”
A small overview. “It made me feel bad.”
You don’t need to act on them. You don’t have to announce them. Simply allow yourself to be true to your experience without threat, even if it’s only in your mind.
Over time, these little moments add up, and they become threads you can follow yourself.
Then one day, someone will ask what you think, and without hesitation, you will say what is true to you and you will believe it.
If you find yourself here, you are not weak or broken.
You are someone who survived an environment where it was dangerous to trust yourself. And your brilliant, adaptive brain did what it needed to do to keep you safe.
But that environment is not forever. That survival strategy is not who you are.
Your intuition is still there. Quiet, yes. But still there.
And it’s waiting to hear from you.
About Chioma’s Iheanacho
Chioma’s Iheanacho writes about reclaiming oneself after losing identity, confidence or voice. A former corporate executive turned Grace Navigator, she creates programs for high achievers navigating perfectionism and burnout. She writes from the inside out, presenting what she wanted when she was searching for answers. she is the author of Forgiving You: 23 Keys to Unlocking Your Freedom and Healing Your Soul. go to forgiveness.plus.
