Trigger Warning: This post discusses domestic abuse, coercive control, emotional abuse, intimidation, manipulation and the impact these behaviours can have on someone experiencing them. Some content may be difficult to read, particularly for anyone with personal experience of abuse.
I had never heard of the term coercive control before my relationship. I didn’t even know what it meant. It wasn’t a term that was really talked about then, but I first heard about it when I was in counselling. I didn’t talk about any of the physical things that were happening, but I did talk about how he was towards me about having counselling, telling me it wasn’t working, and talk about some of the other things that were happening in the relationship. At the time, I didn’t realise that there was a word that could describe so much of what I was experiencing. When I look back at my relationship now, coercive control describes so much of what I experienced that I didn’t have the words for at the time. I understand now that so much of my life had become controlled by his behaviour, what I did, where I went, who I spoke to, what I said and how I behaved. I didn’t understand it as coercive control then. I just thought I was constantly trying to avoid doing something that would cause a reaction.
Coercive control isn’t necessarily one single incident. I experienced it through jealousy, constant texts, monitoring, controlling my behaviour, taking my phone, isolation, financial control, intimidation, making me question myself and fearing his reactions. When all of those things existed at the same time, it felt like I was constantly living a nightmare. Individually, someone might dismiss some of these behaviours. They might say, “He just worries about you,” “He just wants to know where you are,” or, “You two just argue.” When those behaviours happen repeatedly and form a pattern that restricts someone’s freedom, they become much more serious. That was something I didn’t understand at the time. I was looking at each incident separately rather than seeing how they were all connected. I didn’t realise that all of these different behaviours were contributing to the same thing, making me feel like I had less and less freedom to simply be myself.
I started recognising that there was a pattern when the texts started becoming more and more frequent and the tone of them started to change. I could be just five minutes late taking my break at work, or five minutes late walking home after doing Couch to 5K with my mum, and those five minutes could mean accusations coming my way. A big part of my personality is being able to have a laugh and a joke with people, but I soon found out that I couldn’t always do that with him, especially in front of other people, because it could be seen as humiliating him. It started appearing in different parts of my life, and eventually I couldn’t understand what would trigger a reaction anymore. There were things I could predict. I knew that being late for my break or not replying to a message straight away could cause a problem, but then there were things I had no idea would cause a reaction at all. The rules kept changing. What was okay one day could suddenly become a problem the next. I found myself constantly trying to work out what I had done wrong, what I should have done differently and what I needed to change to prevent another reaction. Eventually, I felt like nothing I did was right. I was trying to change myself, not because I wanted to, but because I was scared of him.
I always felt like I was walking on eggshells. For me, that meant thinking before I spoke, watching his mood, staying quiet, trying to prevent arguments, avoiding certain subjects, watching where I looked, checking my phone, watching the clock, trying to keep him happy and constantly changing my behaviour. It became exhausting trying to prevent another person’s reaction every day. What started as something that happened around once a week became almost daily, and I was living in fear all the time. By this point, I wasn’t just being controlled by what he said or did. I was controlling myself because I had learned what might happen if I didn’t. I was constantly trying to stay one step ahead of his reactions, even though I could never be completely sure what might cause one.
I do wonder if that’s why I’m not a fan of the unknown. Writing these posts has definitely made me realise some of the reasons why I may get triggered by certain things. Not being able to predict his reactions or his moods was frightening. Even if he woke up in a good mood, there was no way of knowing whether it was going to be a good day. I looked hard for the warning signs. I watched his moods and paid attention to his behaviour, trying to work out whether there was something I had missed or something I could do differently. But no matter how much I observed, things weren’t always obvious. I thought that if I admitted fault and said sorry, maybe that would fix things, but it didn’t work like that. I knew how unpredictable he could be from the moment he moved himself in with me, around five months into the relationship. There was no warning. Nothing. Living with your partner should be an exciting and happy time. Instead, I was sat at the top of the stairs crying my eyes out while he was moving boxes of his things into my home. Even writing that brings back the feeling in my stomach that I felt that evening.
There was just no predicting his behaviour anymore, or what the consequences of his reactions would be. Sometimes I could predict that I was going to have something thrown at me, or that things were going to become physical, but then there were things that were so completely unexpected and degrading that I couldn’t have prepared myself for them. I’m not sure whether I should share this because it feels embarrassing, and even writing about it makes me emotional. I remember one time when he took his dirty boxers out of the washing basket, pinned me down on the bed and rubbed them in my face. That is the most degrading thing that has ever happened to me in my life. I was told I was nothing, and eventually I felt like nothing, and this is what I mean when I talk about the unpredictability of it. It wasn’t just the fear of knowing that something physical might happen. It was not knowing what humiliation, intimidation or reaction might come next. I could never completely prepare myself for what was going to happen because I didn’t know what I was going to be faced with.
I also found him intimidating. He would square up to me, shout in my face and throw things at me. For as long as I can remember, I loved Christmas. Well, I used to. I remember one Boxing Day when we were meant to go to his friend’s house for dinner and presents. I had only met two of the people there once and had never met any of the others before. I was feeling really anxious about going and, because of that, it was taking me ages to get ready. I couldn’t focus, and that made him so angry. I couldn’t help the way I was feeling, but he didn’t see it that way. He started throwing parts of the Christmas tree at me and around the room. I had some expensive baubles that he was throwing at me and at the walls. They smashed everywhere. He then got in my face, shouting, and the abuse started before he eventually left the house. I spent the rest of the day sweeping up pieces of broken baubles and resin from the floor. I’ve never felt the same about Christmas since. He completely ruined something that had always been important to me.
There were also times when he would get angry when we were out somewhere and we had to go back home. I hated that because I knew the drive home was going to be awful. He would drive erratically, and it was scary. I would beg him to slow down, but he wouldn’t. He would turn the volume on his stereo up as loud as it could go. I would turn it down, but it was pointless because he would just turn it back up again. Then he would repeatedly scream. There were times when he would pull off down a random lane, stop the car and just walk away. I never knew what to do in those situations. There were also times when he would leave me somewhere and I had no idea how I was going to get home, so I would have to beg him to come back. He did this on holiday once. That was particularly frightening because I had no idea how I was going to get back to the lodge, and home was nearly six hours away. Looking back, I think one of the hardest things about situations like this was that I was constantly trying to work out what I was supposed to do differently. Should I have got ready quicker? Should I have said something differently? Should I have stayed quiet? Should I have done something else to stop him getting angry? I had no idea. That’s the thing about intimidation and unpredictable behaviour. You can spend so much time trying to work out what you could have done differently, when the real problem is that you shouldn’t have had to be afraid of someone’s reaction in the first place.
Looking back now, I understand something that I didn’t understand then. I wasn’t just dealing with individual arguments, incidents or moments where he was angry. I was living in a pattern of behaviour that was gradually taking away my freedom, my confidence and my ability to feel safe in my own life. At the time, I was constantly trying to work out what I could do differently. I thought if I could just say the right thing, behave differently, reply quickly enough, avoid the wrong look or make sure I didn’t upset him, then maybe things would be okay, but there was no right answer. The rules kept changing, and I was spending more and more of my life trying to prevent someone else’s reactions. I didn’t have the words for coercive control then. I didn’t understand that the constant messages, the jealousy, the monitoring, the isolation, the financial control, the intimidation, the humiliation and the fear were all connected. I just knew that I was scared. I knew that I was changing. I knew that I wasn’t myself anymore. I know now that none of that was my fault. I didn’t cause his reactions. I wasn’t responsible for keeping him calm. I didn’t need to change who I was to prevent someone else from behaving abusively.
Coercive control doesn’t always look like someone physically stopping you from leaving the house. Sometimes it looks like being technically free to make your own choices while being so frightened of the consequences that you no longer feel able to make them. That is what control did to me, and by the time the abuse became physical, I had already been living with fear, control and intimidation for a long time. Tomorrow, I’ll be talking about the question survivors are so often asked, “Why didn’t you just leave?” The reality is, it isn’t that simple.
🧡 Support and resources
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse, support is available.
National Domestic Abuse Helpline (UK)
📞 0808 2000 247
🌐 Refuge National Domestic Abuse Helpline
🌐 Women’s Aid
🌐 Men’s Advice Line
Amy x
