Survivor Speaks Truth

Tag: Control

  • When Abuse Becomes Entertainment: How the Media Is Selling Us a Lie About Love

    Some of the most dangerous lies aren’t shouted; they’re whispered through screens, disguised as love stories, and wrapped in fantasy. We watch them unfold in movies, binge on TV shows, and scroll past them in viral TikToks and memes. They’re everywhere. Many tell us that control, dominance, or manipulation are forms of passion.

    Take Fifty Shades of Grey, for example. It was marketed as a provocative, edgy romance—a daring take on seduction and sexual exploration. Millions bought the books. Box office records were shattered. But here’s what was often missed: what was sold as a “love story” was, at its core, a deeply unhealthy and abusive relationship.

    Christian Grey isn’t a dream partner. He’s controlling, possessive, emotionally manipulative, and isolating. He stalks Anastasia, controls her career decisions, dictates who she can see, and uses intimacy as a tool of control. And yet, audiences swooned. His behaviour was excused as the actions of a “damaged man who just needed love.” The message was clear: if you love someone enough, you can fix their trauma, even if it means sacrificing your safety or sense of self.

    This isn’t just bad storytelling. It’s dangerous.

    And it’s not always a man hurting a woman. Women can be abusers, too. Media tends to portray abusive women as “crazy,” “jealous,” or “just emotional,” but these are red flags too, not plot twists. Female abusers may weaponize guilt, control finances, isolate partners from family, stalk, or use children as pawns. Whether the abuse is emotional, physical, sexual, or verbal, and regardless of the gender of the abuser or the victim, it’s still abuse.

    When abuse is repackaged as romance, it distorts our understanding of what love is supposed to look like. It blurs the lines between passion and possession, between desire and domination. And for those who have lived through real abuse, it feels like a punch to the gut.

    Because here’s the truth: Real survivors don’t get luxury penthouses and fairytale endings. They get confusion, isolation, trauma, and years of healing. They get gaslit into thinking it’s their fault. They get disbelieved, silenced, or told to be grateful it wasn’t worse.

    The media doesn’t just glamorize abuse; it often eroticizes it. It teaches young people that being desired means pursuing relentlessly, even when you say no. That jealousy is romantic. Mood swings and emotional outbursts show how deep someone’s love runs. That boundaries are meant to be broken if you’re truly “meant to be.”

    But this isn’t love. It’s an obsession. It’s dysfunction. It’s abuse dressed up as intimacy.

    It’s not just Fifty Shades. Countless other stories glorify toxic relationships: The brooding, emotionally unavailable partner who treats their love interest like a project. The “bad boy” or “crazy girl” who hurts everyone but magically changes for the right person. The romanticization of stalking, ignoring boundaries, or using sex as a bargaining chip.

    Think about how often films show people being “worn down” until they finally say yes. Or how many times emotional abuse is chalked up to childhood trauma that the love interest is supposed to fix. These narratives aren’t just tired—they’re harmful.

    They send the message that love requires suffering. The more you endure, the more valuable your passion becomes. That abuse is a phase, a kink, a challenge—not a crisis.

    And for those of us who have survived actual abuse, it’s triggering. Because we’ve lived the reality behind the fiction. We’ve endured the “love” that left bruises—not just on our bodies but also our minds and spirits. We’ve been told our abusers were just “misunderstood.” We’ve heard, “But they buy you nice things,” or “At least they come home at night,” or “Maybe you’re just too sensitive.”

    So when the world glamorizes what nearly destroyed us, it’s not entertainment. It’s erasure.

    We must start calling it what it is. Abuse is not sexy. It is not romantic. It should not be brushed aside for chemistry or plot development. Abuse is traumatic. It’s life-altering. And no amount of cinematic flair can change that.

    We need better stories. We need love stories rooted in respect, empathy, communication, and mutual care. We need media that shows healthy relationships—where power is shared, not hoarded; consent is sacred, not negotiated; and people are partners, not projects.

    And we need to equip ourselves—and the next generation—to spot the difference. To recognize when the screen is lying to us. To stop confusing red flags with butterflies.

    Because real love doesn’t control, it doesn’t intimidate. It doesn’t cross your boundaries and then blame it on trauma. It doesn’t make you feel smaller so someone else can feel powerful.

    Real love honours, protects, and sets you free.

    Let’s stop letting Hollywood define romance. Let’s tell the truth—even when the truth isn’t shiny or marketable or trending, because survivors deserve more than to see their pain turned into profit. And love deserves more than to be reduced to abuse with good lighting and a soundtrack.

  • Abuse Is Not a Mistake — It’s a Choice

    It’s not an accident when someone hurts you repeatedly, intentionally, and without remorse. It’s not a slip-up, a moment of weakness, or a one-time lapse in judgment. Abuse is not a mistake. Abuse is a choice.

    We need to say this louder and clearer than ever before because too many victims have been conditioned to second-guess their reality, minimize what’s happening behind closed doors, and carry the weight of someone else’s destructive behaviour, all while wondering, “Was it that bad?” or “Maybe they didn’t mean it.”

    But here’s the truth: abuse is deliberate. It’s calculated. It’s repeated. And it thrives in environments where it can go unchecked, hidden behind smiles, charm, and public displays of affection.

    The Test: Can They Control It?

    One of the most revealing indicators that abuse is not a mistake is this: abusers often have remarkable self-control, just not with you.

    Think about it.

    Can they hold themselves together at work? Can they treat their friends with kindness and respect? Can they stay calm and collected in front of strangers, their boss, their pastor, or even the police?

    If the answer is yes, then they can choose how they behave. They have control over their actions. The anger, gaslighting, insults, intimidation, and shouting? Those are not reflexes—they’re choices.

    It’s not that they can’t do better. It’s that they won’t.

    They’ve decided you don’t deserve the respect they show others. They’ve made you the target, the emotional punching bag, the one who absorbs all the pain they refuse to deal with. And that decision to lower the mask behind closed doors isn’t accidental; it’s intentional.

    Mistakes Look Different

    Mistakes include forgetting to text back, burning dinner, or saying something careless and then feeling remorseful. However, mistakes come with ownership, apologies, and a genuine effort to make things right.

    Abuse, on the other hand, is marked by patterns or cycles of control, harm, and manipulation. And while it may be followed by apologies or love-bombing, those moments are not repentant; they’re part of the cycle. A means to regain control. A way to keep the victim tethered in confusion and hope.

    The Mask in Public

    One of the most disorienting parts of abuse is how invisible it can be to everyone else. Abusers are often charismatic, well-liked, and even praised for how “loving” or “fun” they seem. They know how to play the part. They know when to turn it on.

    You’ve probably heard it before:

    “He’s so nice! “She seems like such a great mom! “I can’t imagine them doing something like that.”

    But that’s the point. They don’t act that way with others because they choose not to. It’s not a lack of emotional regulation. It’s a deliberate decision to harm you and protect their reputation simultaneously.

    That’s not a mistake. That’s manipulation.

    You Are Not Overreacting

    If you’re reading this and it resonates, please know that you are not crazy, or too sensitive.

    What you’re experiencing, or have experienced, is real. And just because others can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. That’s often how abusers operate: they isolate you, discredit you, and make sure no one else sees the version of them that you live with every day.

    Abuse Is a Choice—And So Is Healing

    We can’t force abusers to change. We can’t make them take responsibility or stop hurting others. But we can choose healing. We can choose freedom. And we can choose to stop accepting excuses for inexcusable behaviour.

    No one “accidentally” abuses someone repeatedly. They chose it. And you can choose to break free.

    If this spoke to you, or if you’re walking through the confusion and aftermath of abuse, you don’t have to do it alone. Healing is possible. And your story matters.

  • Unraveling Trauma Bonds: Why We Stay, and How We Heal

    To someone who hasn’t lived it, trauma bonding makes little sense. Why would someone stay in a relationship where they’re being hurt? Why defend the person causing the pain? Why go back, even after leaving?

    But for those who’ve experienced it, trauma bonding isn’t just a concept, it’s a deeply disorienting and painful reality. The invisible thread keeps you tethered to something breaking you, yet it feels impossible to let go of. Because somewhere in the chaos, there were moments that felt like love. And you learned to cling to those moments like lifelines.

    Trauma bonding happens when abuse is laced with intermittent affection, apologies, or kindness. It creates an emotional trap—a loop of confusion, fear, longing, and misplaced hope. You begin to associate your survival with the very person causing you harm. The brain responds to the unpredictability with heightened attachment, chemically binding you to the one hurting you. It’s not because you’re weak or naïve. It’s because your nervous system has been conditioned by trauma. And trauma changes everything.

    You lose pieces of yourself when you’re caught in this cycle. You question your judgment. You silence your instincts. You internalize the blame. There’s a deep sense of guilt and shame, and a loyalty that defies logic. You think, but they weren’t always like this. Or, maybe if I try harder, love more, wait longer, it’ll go back to the beginning. Worse still, you may begin to wonder if the problem is you.

    This is the cruel genius of a trauma bond—it convinces you that pain is love, that chaos is passion, and staying is strength. And no matter how much it hurts, leaving feels even harder. Because what if they change? What if you’re wrong? What if you never feel that high again?

    Breaking free from a trauma bond is one of the hardest things a person can do. And not because you don’t know it’s toxic, but because the emotional pull is so powerful. It results from intermittent reinforcement—the cycle of hope and disappointment, tenderness and cruelty, apologies followed by more harm. Your brain latches onto the highs and tries to erase the lows. Add in fear of abandonment, loneliness, or retaliation, and it becomes even harder. Then there’s the gaslighting, manipulation, and the slow erosion of your reality until you no longer trust your thoughts. Your world shrinks. You forget who you were before them. Your identity becomes entangled in their approval. And through it all, a stubborn hope remains: that maybe the love you once glimpsed will finally stay.

    But healing begins with truth. Love doesn’t break you, confuse you, or make you feel like you’re losing your mind. Love doesn’t demand your silence. Love doesn’t punish you for having boundaries. Love doesn’t hold you hostage with guilt.

    To begin healing, you must first name it. You can’t heal what you won’t acknowledge. And once you name it, you begin to see the pattern instead of just the person. If it’s safe, distance yourself, limit contact, and create space to breathe, feel, and think again. If children or circumstances make that difficult, anchor yourself in boundaries that protect your peace.

    Find support. You don’t have to do this alone. Trauma-informed therapy, support groups, and safe, validating relationships can help you rebuild your foundation. Healing requires being seen by yourself and by others who know what it’s like to crawl out of darkness.

    Stop romanticizing the past. It wasn’t all good. If it were, you wouldn’t be in pain. Remind yourself of the pattern, not just the apology. Remember that temporary kindness is not transformation. That love that only comes after cruelty isn’t love at all.

    Start tending to your nervous system. Trauma lives in the body. Breathwork, grounding exercises, EMDR, movement, and even moments of stillness are all tools that begin to rewire what trauma has tangled. As your body feels safe, your mind starts to follow.

    And perhaps most importantly, come back to yourself. Who were you before you were made small? Before you were taught to apologize for your needs? Before your voice was silenced and your light dimmed? You are still in there. Healing means remembering, reclaiming, and rebuilding.

    As you walk this path, your standards will change. Your tolerance for chaos will diminish. Your peace will become non-negotiable. You’ll stop accepting breadcrumbs in the name of potential. You’ll stop explaining your worth to people who refuse to see it. And in time, the bond that once felt unbreakable will no longer have a hold on you.

    If you’re in the middle of that process, please know that the bond was real. But it was built on pain, not love. It might feel like your heart is breaking, but you are saving your life.

    Healing doesn’t happen all at once. There will be days when grief rises unexpectedly. Days when you feel the urge to reach out. Days when the loneliness feels unbearable. But there will also be days when you laugh freely again. When you feel the sun on your face and realize you’re no longer walking on eggshells. Days when you look in the mirror and finally see someone you recognize and deeply respect.

    You are not broken. You are healing, which is the most courageous and powerful thing you can do.

    You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone or defend the truth. You are allowed to walk away from pain and begin again. And you will.

    The bond may have been strong, but your healing broke its grip.

  • “She’s Just Difficult” — The Misconception About Abused Women

    One of the most damaging lies ever told about women who have survived abuse is that they are too much. Too emotional. Too guarded. Too hard to love. Too sensitive.

    It’s a narrative that doesn’t just misunderstand trauma—it weaponizes it.

    Women who have been abused aren’t difficult. They are cautious. They are layered. They are learning to navigate a world that has, more than once, proven unsafe.

    When someone has experienced betrayal from someone who once said, “I love you,” trust doesn’t come easily. That’s not dysfunction—that’s self-preservation.

    When someone has been blamed, degraded, gaslighted, and manipulated, they may flinch at raised voices, silence in the middle of an argument or changes in tone. That’s not drama; it’s a nervous system trying to protect itself.

    When someone has been repeatedly told they are the problem, they may need more clarity, reassurance, and space to process. That’s not insecurity; it’s unlearning years of emotional warfare.

    Yet society often looks at these survivors and says, “She’s damaged.”“She’s just too broken.” “She’s hard to love.”

    But what if the truth is the opposite?

    What if she’s not hard to love—what if she needs to be loved right? With consistency, gentleness, patience, and truth.

    What if the real issue isn’t that she’s difficult but that most people have no idea how to love someone who’s had to survive what she has?

    It takes strength to open up again after betrayal, courage to choose vulnerability after being shamed for your feelings, and immense faith to love again when love was the very thing that hurt you most.

    The women who have walked through abuse and still show up with open hearts, hopeful spirits, and a willingness to heal—those women are not difficult.

    They are remarkable.

    They are resilient.

    And they deserve to be seen not as burdens but as humans. As survivors. As daughters of God doing the hard work of healing.

    If you’re one of those women, hear this:

    You are not hard to love. You are learning how to trust. You are allowed to have boundaries, emotions, and needs. And you are worthy—not despite your story, but because of it.

    It’s time to bury the lie that trauma makes someone unlovable. The truth? It reveals the depth of a soul that has survived hell and is still choosing to hope.

    That kind of woman isn’t too much. She’s extraordinary.

  • Disarming a Narcissist: Taking Back Your Power Without Playing Their Game

    If you’ve ever been in a relationship with a narcissist—familial, romantic, professional—you know how exhausting it is. It’s like trying to reason with a tornado while standing in its path. No matter what you say, they twist it. No matter what you do, it’s never enough. And the moment you reclaim your power, they ramp up their manipulation.

    So, how do you disarm someone who thrives on attention, chaos, and control?

    The answer may surprise you: You stop giving them what they feed on.

    1. Don’t Defend, Don’t Explain, Don’t Engage

    Narcissists want a reaction. They feed off your emotional responses—anger, attempts to explain, and tears. The more you try to defend yourself, the more ammunition you give them to twist the narrative.

    Disarm them by refusing to play the game.

    Let your silence be louder than their accusations. Let your calm be more powerful than their chaos. You don’t need to defend what’s true. The truth doesn’t change just because they refuse to see it.

    2. Stick to Facts, Not Feelings

    Narcissists will use your feelings against you. The more vulnerable you are, the more they exploit it. That doesn’t mean you must stop feeling, but guard your emotions in their presence.

    If you must communicate (especially in co-parenting or work situations), keep it brief, emotionless, and factual. 

    Example: Not: “I feel like you’re always trying to manipulate me.” But: “I’m not available at that time. Please email me any future requests.”

    The goal isn’t to win—because with a narcissist, the game is rigged. The goal is to disengage with dignity.

    3. Gray Rock Method

    This is one of the most effective ways to disarm a narcissist: become as interesting as a gray rock.

    Be boring, non-reactive, and uninterested in their drama. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you flustered or upset. They crave attention—any attention. Even negative attention feeds their ego. Don’t give them what they want.

    They’ll likely escalate at first when they sense they’re losing control, but over time, they’ll move on to a new target if they can no longer manipulate you.

    4. Set Boundaries and Keep Them

    Narcissists hate boundaries. They view them as personal attacks. But boundaries are your lifeline.

    You don’t owe anyone unlimited access to your mind, emotions, or time—especially not someone who repeatedly disrespects them.

    Say “no” without explanation. End conversations when they turn manipulative. Block, mute, or walk away when necessary. You are not mean for protecting your peace. You are wise.

    5. Don’t Try to Change Them

    One of the most challenging truths to accept is that you cannot fix a narcissist. They don’t see a problem with their behaviour, self-reflect, or repent. They will charm, gaslight, lie, and love bomb—but it’s all about control, not change.

    Disarming a narcissist doesn’t mean they change. It means you do. You change how you respond. You take back your voice. You choose not to be their supply anymore.

    6. Reclaim Your Identity

    Narcissists are masters at rewriting history. They’ll try to convince you that you were the problem, that your memory is flawed, and that your worth is conditional.

    But God says otherwise.

    You are not what they say you are. You are not crazy, you are not too emotional, and you are not hard to love.

    You are chosen. Loved. Worth protecting.

    “The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.” – Psalm 9:9

    7. Let God Be Your Defender

    You don’t need to prove your truth to those committed to believing a lie. You don’t need to fight every battle—they aren’t worth your peace. You don’t need to carry shame that was never yours.

    Disarming a narcissist isn’t about revenge—it’s about release. It’s choosing freedom over retaliation and healing over hostility—God’s justice over your own.

    And trust me—He sees it all. Every manipulation. Every lie. Every twisted half-truth they told to protect their image while destroying yours.

    In the end, truth always rises. And you? Walk away. 

  • The Wrong Question: Why Are We Blaming the Victim Instead of the Abuser?

    For far too long, the conversation around domestic abuse has centred on the wrong question.

    “Why did you stay?”

    It’s a question survivors hear far too often—sometimes from well-meaning people, sometimes from those looking to blame. It’s a question that implies weakness, complicity, or even guilt on the part of the one who was harmed. It places the burden of explanation on the victim, as though their endurance or entrapment is the real issue we must solve.

    But that question is a distraction.

    The real question is this:

    Why did the abuser abuse?

    Why did someone feel entitled to dominate, manipulate, control, and harm another human being? Why did they weaponize love, faith, or trust to break down the person they claimed to care for? Why did they believe they could act with impunity—behind closed doors while smiling in public?

    Asking, “Why did you stay?” ignores the power dynamics, fear, manipulation, isolation, financial dependence, trauma bonding, and very real danger victims face. It fails to acknowledge that abuse is designed to entrap and erode a person’s ability to leave. Victims often stay because they’re trying to survive. Because they love their children. Because they’ve been threatened. Because they’ve been brainwashed. Because they have nowhere else to go.

    Abuse is not a relationship issue. It’s a choice. A repeated, intentional pattern of behaviour meant to control another person. And the responsibility lies solely on the one who chooses to abuse—not the one who tries to survive it.

    When we ask why the victim stayed, we reinforce silence and shame. But when we ask why the abuser abused, we shine light on the behavior that needs to be confronted. We hold the right person accountable. We begin to change the system, the culture, and the narrative.

    So, let’s start asking better questions.

    Let’s ask:

    • Why do abusers manipulate and gaslight instead of taking accountability?
    • Why do they maintain a double life—charming in public, cruel in private?
    • Why are survivors disbelieved while abusers are defended?
    • Why is image more important than integrity in so many communities?
    • Why do churches, courts, and families often protect the perpetrator over the victim?

    If we want to stop abuse, we have to stop normalizing it. We have to stop explaining it away, minimizing it, or dressing it up in religious language. We have to stop placing the burden of proof on the one already carrying the weight of trauma.

    It’s time we stop asking, “Why didn’t you leave sooner?”

    And start demanding answers to: “Why did they think abuse was acceptable in the first place?”

    Because that’s where the healing begins; that’s where justice lives. And that’s how we rewrite the story—not with shame, but with truth.

  • When Abusers Can’t Control You, They Control the Narrative

    One of the most painful parts of abuse isn’t just the betrayal that happens behind closed doors—it’s what happens after. When the abuser, so skilled in manipulation and deception, begins to rewrite the story. When they paint themselves as the victim, you, the one who endured the pain in silence for so long, are cast as the villain.

    This isn’t accidental; it’s intentional, and it’s part of the abuse.

    Abusers don’t just harm in private—they also launch smear campaigns in public. They know how to twist narratives, fabricate half-truths, and tell just enough of a story to make themselves look wounded and noble while quietly dismantling your character behind your back. They weaponize their charm and social connections to discredit you, all while maintaining their image of righteousness.

    They go to great lengths to turn people against you. Why? Because they need control. Even after you leave.

    They don’t want people to see the truth. Because if the truth were seen, the mask would fall—and with it, the power they hold over others. So, they preemptively strike. They sow seeds of doubt before you even open your mouth. They spread rumors. They share “concerns.” They tell people you’re unstable, bitter, unforgiving, or even abusive yourself. They will use tears, Scripture, and false humility to garner sympathy—and most of the time, people believe them.

    Because here’s the thing: abusers don’t look like abusers. They often look like kind, involved parents. They serve in churches. They say all the right things. They show up to community events with smiles and handshakes. They know exactly how to appear trustworthy, responsible, and gentle. And when they begin to subtly (or not-so-subtly) tarnish your name, people listen. Not because they’re evil—but because they don’t know better.

    And in the process, you find yourself isolated. People stop calling. They unfollow you. You hear whispers. You get messages from mutual friends saying things like, “I don’t know what happened, but I just want peace,” or “I can’t take sides.”And suddenly, you’re grieving not just the abuse—but the loss of a community you thought would support you. The silence is deafening. The abandonment is cruel. The injustice is unbearable.

    But it is not your fault.

    This is what abusers do. It’s called DARVO—Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender. They deny what they’ve done, attack your credibility, and make themselves look like the wounded party. It’s a psychological tactic designed to confuse everyone watching, including you.

    If you’re in this place—questioning your reality, wondering how so many people could believe the lies—know this: you are not alone. Many survivors have walked this same path. And while it’s excruciating, it’s also a sign that the abuser is losing their grip on you—so they’re working overtime to keep their grip on others.

    They are afraid of the truth getting out, of losing the power they’ve built through deceit, and of being exposed if people knew the real story.

    So they make sure to speak first, manipulate the narrative, and ensure that by the time you finally find the courage to speak up, people already doubt you.

    But God sees it all.

    He sees the lies. He sees the slander. He sees your effort to protect someone who never protected you. He sees the relationships you’ve lost—not because of who you are, but because of what someone else twisted about you.

    And He will make it right.

    Psalm 37:5-6 says, “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act. He will bring forth your righteousness as the light and your justice as the noonday.”

    You don’t have to fight every lie. You don’t have to chase down every rumour. You don’t have to beg people to believe you.

    Truth has a way of rising. And while the pain of the smear campaign feels unbearable, it will not last forever. Those who are meant to see will see in time. And those who were easily swayed were never meant to walk with you in this season of healing anyway.

    If someone truly loves you, they won’t form an opinion about your story without talking to you directly. If they walk away without hearing your side, let them go. God is clearing the room.

    Yes, abusers go to great lengths to turn people against you. But don’t forget—you walked through fire. You survived the storm. You carry a truth they cannot touch.

    And no matter what anyone else believes, God knows the whole story. And in His time, so will the rest.