One of the most confusing things about coercive control is that you often don’t realise it’s happening while you’re in it. It rarely starts with obvious abuse. It can begin with small things: “Why are you wearing that?” “Who were you talking to?” “Why did you take so long?” “I don’t like that friend.” Slowly, it becomes monitoring, criticism, guilt and punishment when you don’t comply. And eventually, you start changing your behaviour—not because they explicitly told you to, but because you have learned what happens when you don’t. You stop mentioning certain people. You avoid certain conversations. You check their mood before you speak. You become more focused on “How do I keep the peace?” than “What do I actually want?” This is why coercive control is so powerful. You adapt to the control. You may not recognise it until you realise: "I don't recognise myself anymore.” You’ve become quieter. More anxious. Less confident. Constantly second-guessing yourself. And because the changes happened gradually, you may believe you chose this life. You didn't. You adapted to survive it. Coercive control isn't always one dramatic incident. It is the gradual erosion of your freedom, confidence, autonomy and sense of self. So don't only ask: "Is my partner abusive?” Ask: "What happens when I say no?” Love allows you to have boundaries, friendships, opinions and choices without fear. If you've slowly stopped being yourself because you're constantly managing someone else's reactions, pay attention. Awareness is often the first step back to yourself.

A large percentage of the work I do is the counselling and coaching of women who are in - or recovering from - abusive and toxic environments, both at work and at home. My clients are powerful women. Highly intelligent. Highly capable. Beautiful, articulate, competent, and often exceptional in their fields. When I watch them in action, leading teams, managing crises, delivering outcomes, holding families together, I am genuinely blown away by their ability and skill. And yet, I have also seen these same women break down behind closed doors, where no one else gets a front‑row seat but me. Over the years, I’ve learned something that most people never understand: These women stay not because they are weak, but because they are strong. Their strength becomes the very thing that traps them. The Trap of Being “Too Strong” Psychology has long shown that people with high resilience, high pain tolerance, and a strong capacity to carry emotional or relational weight often remain in harmful environments far longer than those with lower thresholds. And while this article speaks largely to women - because they're the clients I work with most - it’s important to acknowledge that this pattern is not exclusive to women. Anyone who has been conditioned to “handle it” can fall into the same trap. A person with a lower tolerance for emotional discomfort will often leave at the first red flag. Their nervous system sends a clear, immediate message: “This doesn’t feel right. Step back.” But someone who has spent their life being strong responds differently. A stronger person says, “I can take more.” And they do - sometimes for years. Not because they're naïve or foolish, and not because they lack boundaries or intelligence. They stay because their nervous system learned one thing early in life: They can handle it. They learned to tolerate discomfort, silence, instability, emotional labour, and relational imbalance. Their body became fluent in endurance - pushing through, absorbing tension, and adjusting themselves around the behaviour of others. So instead of sending the signal to leave, their body sends the signal to cope. To push through. To endure.