“Emotional abuse is any pattern of behavior that undermines a person’s sense of self-worth and reality.” ~ Beverly Engle
At first, the changes were small.
I stopped wearing the dress that everyone loved because they said it didn’t look good on me. I let some friendships fade because it made her uncomfortable. I used to laugh less at things he didn’t find funny.
I checked myself to make sure my expression was pleasing to him. I just shrunk a little, way no one else would notice.
Then it got bigger.
I stopped trusting my own judgment because she told me I was too sensitive. Or what he did, he didn’t do. Or he didn’t say what he said. Or he doesn’t remember.
It happened so many times that I started to believe his version of reality.
I second guess every decision. I asked for permission to do what I normally do. I drafted and edited everything I thought of to say, trying to get it right before it left my mouth.
I even managed to edit my own thoughts before they were fully formed.
I learned to read him as a sailor reads the sky. A slight change in his tone. A gesture. A certain look. The way he set his phone.
I became subtly and painfully in tune with her moods, needs and expectations.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped to ask, “What do I need? What do I want? What is true for me?”
Instead, I asked, “What exactly does he want to hear? What does he need right now? What will keep things calm?”
I stopped listening to my own internal compass because I replaced it with something else. his approval. His acceptance.
Everything was structured around his comfort, his choice and his convenience. We went to the places he wanted to go, the things he wanted to do, the times he wanted, the way he thought best.
Outing from home projects, my life became a reflection of his choices.
Then one day, years later, I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I didn’t know who I was anymore.
I liked that stuff? I couldn’t remember the last time I did them.
What I used to like? I wasn’t sure what else they were.
What man was I before this relationship? He seemed dead. Or maybe he was never real.
It was not by accident. That’s what toxic relationships do. They just don’t take your time, energy or peace. They take your identity and drain you.
slowly quietly One small surrender at a time.
Until the person who entered the relationship and the person still standing there do not recognize each other.
It’s just that you don’t lose yourself. It is that you have lost the ability to find yourself. Because the compass you used to navigate by (your gut, your intuition), that quiet voice inside telling you what’s true—is gone.
I didn’t fully understand what I was in for until I started doing research.
I hated the word “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 circumstantial or an isolated incident. They are patterns I cannot deny.
Cognitively, I knew that his rants and outbursts—which absolutely terrified me—had to do with the time or the trauma he carried, or at least something to do with what he said.
But since I had never seen him react that way to anyone else, I began to believe that something was wrong i am.
That I was somehow provoking him, and I couldn’t find the right way to stop his misbehavior.
His behavior was such a stark contrast to the image he presented publicly that I thought for sure people would assume I was the cause.
When I tried to speak up or advocate for myself, no matter how polite and caring I tried to be, I was met with anger.
The moment I wanted to scream, defend myself or run away, I laughed or apologized to end the anger. I ignored my own reactions and just focused on calming him down, saying what I needed to say to stop his anger.
When you are told enough times that your perception is wrong, you eventually stop believing your own eyes.
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 relationships, but from the constant mental burden of second-guessing every thought, every feeling, every decision.
You become so engrossed with their voice that your voice is silenced and you almost don’t realize it’s happening.
This makes it difficult to recognize from the inside.
You won’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 feels this uncertain, or needs to check in with everyone someone Before making a decision.
But your intuition is not gone. 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 get away. That pain will eventually go away.
But that’s not how trauma bonds work.
There are many reasons why people stay in relationships for years, sometimes even decades, that slowly destroy them. It’s not that they’re weak or don’t know better.
One of the main reasons is something called the sunk cost fallacy.
The sunk cost fallacy is an economic term that means the more you invest in something, the harder it is to walk away from it.
I have invested a lot of time, energy, love, hope and even my dreams. I saved relationships to people who loved me and made excuses for it.
I believed in potential and stayed in things that would quickly end other people’s relationships.
The few times we broke up, I was met with desperate pleas to get back. Grand gesture. Promises that things will change. I didn’t want a project. I wanted a partner. I didn’t want to fix him or anyone. I just wanted! But he had a way of making me feel guilty.
One moment he would be sad, the next angry at me for leaving, telling me how I was another source of hurt in his life.
So I would stay a little longer. Because it might get better. Maybe if I tried harder. Maybe when I’m younger, quieter, more than what he needs.
Maybe if I prove my undying love and loyalty in a way that diminishes me, it will eventually work. Then finally he wants to see.
The longer I stayed, the more lost I became. Just not much time. More of myself.
And one day, I realized that the cost of living seemed unbearable because I had already paid for it with 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?”—stop here.
Because talking is just shy. And it’s lying to you.
Trauma bonds don’t exploit your weaknesses. They harness the qualities that make you who you are. Like your ability to love deeply. Your ability to see potential in someone. Your willingness to believe someone’s words, even when they don’t match their actions.
Your hope that the loving way they treat you around their family and friends is who they really are, and the version you feel behind closed doors is temporary. situational fixable
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 will eventually show for you.
But these are not weaknesses. They are the best part of you, used against you.
This is why intelligent, high-achieving, successful people are caught in these patterns.
Because they were not stupid or weak. But because they trusted someone’s potential more than they trusted their own discomfort.
Sometimes the only proof you have is a feeling.
And your brain can’t think of a way out of it. Cycles of arousal and relief (an unpredictable mix of warmth and withdrawal) train your system to get the pattern. Your body becomes accustomed to the stress response. What’s healthy starts to feel unfamiliar and your survival mode kicks in. This is why you may know someone is wrong for you and still feel unable to leave.
But the person you were before this relationship is not gone.
Every small step you take toward yourself—every boundary you set, every moment of clarity, every time you choose your well-being in that familiar pull—you are finding your way.
You don’t have 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 him.
The cost of living will continue to rise. But the price of leaving is the price of becoming yourself again.
And you are worth that price.
Fortunately, intuition never dies. It hibernates.
Start with those small moments.
A small choice. “I want tea, not coffee.” A little boundary. “I can’t do that today.”
A small observation. “It felt bad to me.”
You don’t have to work on them. You don’t have to declare them. Allow yourself to be honest about your own experience without feeling threatened, even if it’s only in your own mind.
Over time, these small moments add up and they become threads you can trace back to 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 mind did exactly 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. Cool, yes. But still there.
And it’s waiting for you to listen.
about Good luck K Iheanacho
Chioma Kay Iheanacho writes about reclaiming oneself after losing identity, faith or voice. A former corporate executive turned Grace Navigator, she creates programs for high-achievers to navigate perfectionism and burnout. He writes from the inside, offering what he finds while searching for answers. He is its author Forgiving You: 23 Keys to Unlocking Your Freedom and Healing Your Soul. Visit forgiveness.plus.
