I have a recording where my ex laughs, “If you were standing there battered and bruised, then maybe you’d have a leg to stand on.” Because it’s so covert, you doubt your sanity. No doubt, the person is gaslighting you—telling you you’re too sensitive, and it’s all your fault. These are some of the things (besides physical violence) that suggest your significant other might be abusive. That was when he was getting desperate. Before that, he’d make a fuss about things I just didn’t understand. In retrospect, it makes perfect sense. Once, after a yoga class, he insisted that I had told him we were going to a crab restaurant, and that I must’ve been “messing with [his] head,” because Burger and Lobster was emblazoned all over the restaurant. Every time I went to yoga, he’d remind me of that. Eventually, it just became easier not to go. If you’re financially dependent, or in the pit of abuse, you may feel extremely isolated. You’re never completely trapped. To reclaim your connection with your friends and family, simply say, “This may sound strange, and it’s hard for me to say. I’ve been abused by [name], and it became impossible for me to talk to anyone. Still, I’d really like for us to get connected again.” You’d be surprised at how much your loved ones will help you. I had nothing to hide. But he’d read my emails and messages, interrogating me. He’d insist on knowing my whereabouts: “What if something happens to you? What would your parents and the police say?” He might show up somewhere, and even if I was sitting by the window waving to him, he’d insist that I wasn’t there. Some abusers threaten to hurt children or pets. The mere thought is frightening enough. You walk on eggshells, knowing your personal space might be intruded upon anytime, no idea what might trigger an outburst. Today, I still receive threatening communications from him, garbled with sob stories, attempts to play both hero and victim. I’ve never needed to be saved by anyone, much less him. Neither do you. If I did what he suggested, it was evidence that I was “up to no good.” If I didn’t, he’d use it against me for months. It was a classic case of damned if I do, damned if I don’t. Maybe your abuser doesn’t try to control what you wear. But he may control the way you fold the clothes, clean the house, speak, or do any number of other activities. The more trivial and banal, the more degraded you feel and the less personal space you have. It’s a powerful tool for emotional manipulation. His pressure oscillated between “I’m just trying offer you pleasure” and “you’re such a snob, my friends don’t like you.” My decisions were never respected, and somehow, they were always about him. Then there were the nights he forced me to spend on his drug dealer’s couch because going home on my own meant I was “cheating on him.” The one night I made a boundary and went home without him, he said, “Now everybody knows there’s something wrong. My friends hate you. And I’m still standing up for you.” But you see, the abuser believes they are entitled. He’d tell me how tolerant and kind he was, flip the script and call me demanding or sensitive—sensitive, because I wouldn’t let him inspect the contents of the toilet before I flushed. After he did something physically abusive—like throwing an iPad at me or pointing a knife at me—he’d insist he was too intoxicated to remember but would plead remorse. As time passed, he’d rewrite the story, saying he remembered everything and I was lying. If this happens to you, hold on to your gut instinct—your abuser is lying. If I walked away after his repeated taunts, he’d say I was being “abusive” for triggering his fears of abandonment. Never mind that anyone has the right to use the bathroom without being told she’s being unfaithful in the first place. But I checked myself. I was the one fleeing from my own house over and over again. I was the one shaking in fear. And I was the one who sometimes wanted to end my life. Since I’m a therapist myself, he’d taunt me with rhetorical questions like, “Aren’t you supposed to help me? You should know better.” It didn’t matter how many times I said, “I’m not your doctor or therapist. I’m your girlfriend.” He continued to insult my credentials and credibility. “How do you even help your clients if you can’t even be patient with me?” Other abused women have told me how their empathy is used against them. “You’re a healer/coach—how can you not help me?” But you can’t help a person who adamantly refuses to change anything and only wants to feed off your energy. Women who are especially empathetic are actually often bait for psychopaths, sociopaths, and narcissists—exactly because of that sensitivity to the feelings of others. Research shows that abusers eventually become violent. And I know what it’s like to become so desensitized that you accept things you never would have tolerated before as normal. When a policewoman told me, “You’re at medium risk of suffering significant harm or homicide perpetrated by your partner,” I was stunned. That’s how much my reality had been skewed. For a long time, I felt guilty for even entertaining the thought of creating an exit strategy. When a friend told me, “Honey, you need to see your doctor. Get it on record,” I felt trapped by the guilt of betraying him by telling a professional. I still wanted to believe he was a good person. That he could change. That he loved me. That he could love me. You owe it to yourself to keep yourself safe. If you don’t honor and protect yourself, who will? You are so much more precious than your abuser would have you believe. For me, the steps to an exit happened slowly, over time. My local friends, a domestic violence charity, and my doctor knew. After that, I started to mentally organize my belongings, so I could execute easily when the time came. Eventually, I started to discard and donate things in small batches; I corralled my important documents and scanned key ones. I locked down my devices, hard drives, and Kindle accounts, changing every password I had. I was absorbing information about the Dark Triad (psychopaths, narcissists, and Machiavellians) wherever and whenever I could, and didn’t want him to know. And every night, I’d pin everything I wanted in my new home on a secret Pinterest board. It’d be a place of beauty and light—no tobacco ash in my bed—and it would smell divine. It gave me something to look forward to. I even arranged to rent a friend’s spare room if I needed an emergency out. I was still holding on to some invisible hope, though. I thought, maybe he’ll check into rehab. Maybe he’ll change. But he didn’t. And everything I’d done up to that point meant that when he shoved me, twice, doubling me over in pain, I didn’t have to think about whether or not I could get out. I just had to go. I packed everything up in eight hours, and I’ve never regretted that choice for a second. She has been featured in Elle, Forbes, and Business Insider and has previously worked with Olympians, business professionals, and individuals seeking to master their psychological capital. She works globally in English and Mandarin-Chinese via Skype and Facetime, blending cutting-edge neuroscience, psychology, and ancient wisdom.
