Abuse: Not Always As Seen on TV

When some think of abuse in relationships, what comes to mind is physical harm, or being torn apart verbally. Although these may be the components of abuse they are not the only means - in my opinion, they're just blatant forms.

When you hear those stories you may say to yourself, "I wouldn't tolerate It," or "that would never happen to me," and maybe that's the truth. I too was a person who believed it wouldn't happen to her.



I consider myself an independent modern woman who grew up with strong amazon-like women as influences. My attitude was always, I can do it all, I can do it better than any guy and I am making my own way in this world. Interestingly, Many years ago, while I was away in law school I dated a guy who was very jealous. Eventually that jealousy manifested itself into a manipulative form of control.

We would get into arguments when I would wear something he thought was inappropriate:

"Change your shirt, I can see your cleavage when you bend over,"
"that skirt is too short,"
"you should wear a sweater with that tank top (in eighty degree weather),"
"you should wear shorts with your bathing suit,"
"I don't want you going on vacations with your friends."

I was combative initially and it would be a battle of the wills. And somehow in the midst of ignoring these red flags I started changing "me" to conform to his wishes, just so the arguments would stop. I distinctly remember being in my walk-in closet, not wanting to face him because I wasn't sure if my clothes would trigger a fight.

When he succeeded in changing how I would dress, arguments would ensue about how I was too free-spirited and my friends were bad influences. We'd argue about my independent nature, he'd tell me all the ways I disrespected him as a man, tried to inform me on how men think and made me feel like I was less than a wonderful woman, in a very back-handed way.

Anxiety set in and I didn't even realize what I had allowed to happen. Because to me, this was not abusive- this was just jealousy and he could change. Relationships were about compromise, right? But the one changing was me. I stopped going out with my friends and I became withdrawn, secluded. I didn't recognize myself. My family and friends saw my unhappiness but I didn't. And the nature of his control became oppressive.


The arguments didn't stop because I couldn't do anything right in his eyes. Even when it came to sharing household chores, he would throw it in my face that he'd helped fix my car and so I should just clean the house without complaining because that's a woman's job. At this point I had stopped arguing about gender roles and the guilt he put on me set in a lot easier.

His form was to show me how great he was and how horrible and unfair I was being to him. He was creative, manipulative and covert.

It wasn't until he followed me to New York and injured his back, did I realize I was miserable. He distracted me endlessly, needed all of my attention and I allowed it. I had lost myself. He went home to treat his back and I stayed home trying to study for the bar exam. And this is when I started to breathe a little easier. He was unable to see me, and so he could not control me.

A friend of mine suggested we go on vacation. I booked the trip. When I told him, he tried to put his foot down over the phone and told me "no more trips, or we're done," but the little pilot light inside me was still there and with the flame that is 'me' was finally ablaze, I said "fine, we're done."

And that was the end of his reign. Just like that. I found the way out and I grabbed it. But only in retrospect am I able to see how abuse can be disguised- how someone can beat you down without laying a hand on you and make you feel small without calling you a name.

Abuse is not always a shot from a canon... It can be a slow-killing poison. And thankfully, I wasn't so mired that I could not save myself.