Latest / Just Listen To Me / Coercive Control: The Abuse That Doesn't Leave Bruises
Transcript
- Julia: Hi, I'm Julia and welcome back to Just Listen to Me. Today's episode is about coercive control. If you've been listening to the podcast for a while, you'll know this isn't the first time we've touched on this topic. Back in season one, I recorded an episode called Trauma or Abuse: Why the Difference Saves Your Relationship. In that episode, I explored an important distinction. That I believe that every couple needs to understand. One of the biggest mistakes we make when talking about relationships is assuming that all conflict is the same. It isn't. Some relationships are struggling because two frightened nervous systems keep colliding. Others are organized around one person's need for power and control. Those are not the same thing. Some relationships need healing, others need safety. And confusing the two can have devastating consequences. In that earlier episode, I drew on John Gottman's distinction between situational couple violence and more coercive, controlling forms of abuse. That distinction matters because these relationships require very different responses. When conflict is driven by unresolved trauma, shame, attachment wounds, and emotional dysregulation, there is often genuine potential for healing through safety, accountability, and appropriate therapeutic support. But relationships organized around coercive control are fundamentally different. The problem isn't poor communication. The problem is is the ongoing use of power, intimidation and control to dominate another person. Then in season two when we explored trauma bonds, we touched on coercive control again, because trauma bonds don't develop in healthy relationships. They develop within environments of fear, unpredictability and control. Today's episode is really an extension of those conversations. Because coercive control deserves an episode of its own. It's one of the most misunderstood forms of abuse, yet also one of the most psychologically devastating. It doesn't always leave visible injuries, but it leaves people questioning their own reality, doubting themselves, walking on eggshells. Gradually losing the freedom to simply be who they are. Today I want to slow down and explore what coercive control actually is, how it develops, why it's so difficult to recognize. When people hear the word abuse, they often picture a single event a shove, a slap, a bruise, something obvious, something that leaves. Physical evidence. But coercive control doesn't work like that. Coercive control isn't defined by one incident. It's defined by a pattern, a pattern that gradually erodes another person's autonomy, confidence, freedom, and sense of self. It's less about what happens on any one particular day, and more about the environment. That's created over weeks, months, and sometimes years. An environment where fear quietly begins making decisions. Where one person's reality becomes more important than the other's. Where freedom slowly disappears. Not because someone is physically imprisoned, but because the emotional consequences of saying no become so overwhelming. That compliance feels safer. That's what makes coercive control so difficult to recognize. There isn't one dramatic moment where everything suddenly changes. Instead, it unfolds gradually, almost imperceptibly. At first, it may even feel like love. Your partner wants to know where you are because they worry about you. They question your family because they're just trying to protect you. Each moment, viewed on its own, can sound reasonable, sometimes even caring. But over time, something begins to shift. Concern becomes surveillance. Protection becomes restriction. Closeness becomes isolation. Reassurance becomes becomes interrogation. Without realizing it, your world begins getting smaller. You stop making spontaneous decisions. You think twice before replying to a message. You start asking yourself, Will this upset them? Before you ask, is this what I want? And that's one of the hallmarks of coercive control. Your internal world Slowly reorganizes itself around managing another person's emotional reactions. Not because you want to, but because your nervous system has learnt that it's the safest way to survive. This is why coercive control isn't simply about conflict. It's about power. One person gradually acquires more freedom while the other gradually loses it. And because it happens so gradually, many people don't recognise what's happening until they look back and realise, I don't know when I stopped feeling like myself. That's the invisible injury of coercive control. It doesn't just change what you do, it changes who you believe you're allowed to be. When conversations about coercive control happen in the media or online, there is one question that comes up again and again. Why didn't they just leave? In many ways, that question reveals just how misunderstood coercive control still is. It assumes the person has the same freedom, agency, and psychological safety as someone in a healthy relationship. But that's precisely what coercive control takes away. The question itself is based on a false premise. It imagines that leaving is simply a decision. It isn't. By the time someone is living within a pattern of coercive control, their confidence has often been eroded, their reality repeatedly questioned, their support networks diminished. and their nervous system adapted to living with chronic fear and unpredictability. But there's another reason this question misses the mark. It assumes people know their experiencing coercive control. Many don't. One of the defining features of coercive control is how subtle it can be. It rarely begins with obvious domination. It unfolds gradually. One criticism, one compromise, one apology, one moment where you begin second guessing yourself. Each moment, viewed in isolation, can seem insignificant, easy to explain away, easy to justify, easy to forgive. It's only when you step back and see the pattern that That something much more concerning begins to emerge. You don't suddenly wake up one morning and think, I'm in a coercively controlling relationship. Instead, you slowly become less yourself. You stop voicing certain opinions. You hesitate before making plans. You begin anticipating another person's reactions before your own needs. Not because they've explicitly told you that you can't, but because your nervous system has learnt that it's safer not to. And for some people, recognizing coercive control is even more difficult because these patterns were normalized very early in life. When control, unpredictability, or walking on eggshells formed part of our earliest relationships. Those experiences shape what our nervous system comes to recognize as familiar. I'll come back to that in a moment because attachment theory helps us understand why. For now, what's important is this. Many people don't recognize coercive control because they simply don't have the language for it. They just know that something doesn't feel right. And that's why education matters. Because once we have language, we begin to recognize patterns that previously just felt like everyday life. So perhaps the better question isn't why didn't they leave? Perhaps the better questions are what happened to this person's freedom? What happened to their sense of self? What happened that made staying feel safer than leaving? Those questions bring us much closer to understanding the lived experience of coercive control. Because coercive control doesn't begin with someone taking away your freedom. It begins with someone earning your trust. The relationship doesn't start with intimidation. It usually starts with connection, hope, affection, shared dreams. The control comes later, little by little, and by the time it becomes obvious your world has already begun reorganizing itself around keeping the relationship safe. Not because it is safe, but because leaving no longer feels safe. Coercive control changes more than your circumstances. It changes your perception of You begin doubting your memory, questioning your judgment, distrusting your own instincts. Over time those doubts stop feeling like doubts. They begin feeling like facts. This is where the nervous system becomes so important. When we've repeatedly been exposed to unpredictability, criticism or intimidation, our best Brain becomes increasingly vigilant. We begin scanning for danger, watching facial expressions, listening for changes in tone, trying to predict another person's mood before they've even spoken. The goal is no longer authenticity, the goal is safety. And when survival becomes the priority, you stop asking, what do I need? And you start asking, what will keep the peace from If you listen to my episode on trauma bonds, you'll remember that trauma bonds develop through cycles of fear and relief. Moments of tension are followed by moments of warmth. Those moments of kindness aren't evidence that the abuse isn't real. Those moments of kindness are part of what makes it so difficult to leave. Because every act of kindness reignites hope. Hope that this time things will be different. And hope is a powerful thing. Because sometimes it's the very thing that keeps people trying long after the relationship has stopped being emotionally safe. That's why recognizing coercive control isn't about asking do they love me? It's about asking what is happening to me? Am I becoming more confident or more fearful? More myself or less? Is this relationship helping me grow or teaching me to disappear? I'd like to spend a few minutes talking about attachment theory because I think it helps explain one of the most confusing aspects of coercive control. If you grew up in a family where love and control were deeply intertwined, where affection dependent on being obedient, where questioning a parent was met with intimidation or punishment, then those experiences don't simply disappear when you become an adult. They become part of your internal blueprint for relationships. In attachment theory, we call these internal working models. They're the deeply held expectations we develop about ourselves, about other people, and about what relationships are supposed to feel like. If your earliest experiences of relationships taught you that love meant walking on eggshells, That peace depended on keeping someone else happy, or that love had to be earned, then your nervous system may come to associate those experiences with closeness itself. Not because they're healthy, but because they're familiar. Sometimes people don't recognize coercive control because it feels familiar. But familiarity is not the same as safety. That doesn't mean they wanted it or chose it or deserved it. It means their nervous system learned very early in life what relationships were supposed to feel like. Those early experiences become expectations, expectations about love, about conflict, about closeness, about safety. The hopeful part is Is that those experiences aren't fixed? Our internal working models can change. Through emotionally safe relationships, through healthy friendships, through good therapy, through being respected instead of controlled, listened to instead of silenced, accepted instead of managed. The more experiences we have of emotional safety. The more our nervous system begins to update what it expects from love. We begin to realize that love doesn't have to feel frightening. It doesn't have to be earned. And it doesn't require us to become smaller. Real love creates enough safety for us to become more fully ourselves. As we come to the end of today's episode, I hope one thing has become clear. Coercive control isn't simply relationship conflict. It's a pattern of power and control that gradually erodes freedom, autonomy, safety, and ultimately a person's sense of self. It's often subtle, it's often confusing. And that's exactly why it's so difficult to recognize. Understanding coercive control isn't about becoming suspicious of every difficult relationship. It's about learning to recognize the difference between relationships that are struggling because of pain and relationships that are organized around power and control. Some relationships need healing, others need safety. If today's episode has resonated with you, I want you to know that recognizing these patterns isn't about blaming yourself for not seeing them sooner. Coercive control is sustained by confusion, by self-doubt, and by the absence of language to describe what's happening. That's why conversations like this matter. Because when we have language, we begin to understand. When we understand we begin to recognize, and when we recognize, we create the possibility for something different. One of the most hopeful things I know is that our earliest experiences do not have to determine our future. Attachment patterns can change. Internal working models can change. Our nervous systems can learn that familiarity is not the same as safety. Healthy love doesn't ask us to become smaller. Secure love creates enough safety to For us to become more fully ourselves. Thank you for spending this time with me today. And if you'd like to explore these ideas further, I'd encourage you to go back and listen to my earlier episodes, Trauma or Abuse, Why the Difference Saves Your Relationship, and Trauma Bonds, as they provide the foundation for today's conversation. Until next time, take care of yourselves. And take care of each other.