So what is it, and have you been a victim of coercion?

Repeatedly?

Because that’s abuse, my friend.

coercion noun
the use of express or implied threats of violence or reprisal (as discharge from employment) or other intimidating behavior that puts a person in immediate fear of the consequences in order to compel that person to act against his or her will

Coercive control is an ongoing pattern of domination in intimate or family relationships where one person systematically restricts another’s freedom, autonomy, and sense of self through isolation, monitoring, threats, financial control, and other manipulative tactics.

It’s a strategic, long-term pattern of behavior used to dominate another person, even subtly. It’s not always physical violence. Sometimes it’s a pattern of behaviors that creates an environment where the victim’s daily life, choices, and independence are tightly regulated.

It took me 18 years to realize that I was being coercively controlled—and, in turn, abused.

My husband had been controlling me for the longest time, and I didn’t even realize the patterns. I just knew I hated our relationship but loved the overall life we had built.

We lived in a large home that I loved, on several acres of wooded land. It had a pool, a hot tub, lots of room for the kids to grow up and play in the yard, and plenty of space to host family and friends. We had a huge friend group that would regularly visit. We had great jobs that afforded us the ability to travel.

From the outside, we had a great life.

But behind the scenes, things were dark.

My husband thought—and actually stated out loud toward the end of our marriage—that his mood was completely dependent on me.

He required sex every day.

Well, he could settle for multiple times a week. Maybe every other day.

And if he didn’t get his required doses, he would get angry.

He would snap. Sometimes he would be aggressive, but never physical.

Other times, I would just get the silent treatment for days.

No responses to verbal interactions at all. No replies to text messages.

After some time had passed between these “mood swings,” he would come back around like nothing had happened. Sometimes he was extra affectionate.

I thought it was his way of saying he was sorry because he couldn’t verbalize it. He would just become a loving husband again.

I was a busy mom working full time and juggling a lot. I didn’t have the time or energy to figure out this pattern.

But looking back, it was definitely coercion.

He was teaching me that if I didn’t put out when he demanded, there would be a consequence.

When he tried to pressure me into sex on days when I wasn’t in the mood, he would ask and ask and ask.

“NO!” never meant no to him.

“No!” meant not this second, but maybe try again in a minute.

Then five minutes.

Eventually, you’ll wear her down.

And sometimes he did.

When he didn’t, and I held my ground, I was punished, even if ever so slightly.

Huffing and puffing. Stomping to turn out the light or go to the bathroom after the denial.

Sometimes yelling and telling me why he “needed” it and why it was unfair that he didn’t get what he wanted, keeping me up for hours.

The best was that I “wasn’t fulfilling my marital duties.”

Like it was 1956.

In retrospect, the funny thing is that he had done this so often and for so long that my body finally reached a point where it knew we weren’t in a safe space with him.

His advances literally turned me off.

His touches became disgusting to me.

But I didn’t know it was from coercive control, and he had planted seeds that it had to be my fault.

He asked several times if I was a lesbian because, if I didn’t want him, that was the next logical explanation in his brain.

He told me I needed therapy to figure things out.

That I was “broken.”

He knew that I had experienced sexual abuse multiple times previously.

A stepfather who would regularly come into my bedroom naked as a teen just to have a conversation after his showers.

A guy on a first date who whipped his dick out and put my hand on it.

An older brother of a friend in high school who cornered me in a dark basement after I had used the bathroom.

Guys in crowded nightclubs who grabbed my ass as I walked through to find my friends.

So it must be repressed trauma, in his mind.

For a while, that actually sounded right.

I had been through horrible things. I had been traumatized.

But my husband, who should have understood this and given me grace, was instead berating me, punishing me, and relentlessly pressuring me.

Because evidently my grace period had ended.

And he had needs.

After months—maybe years—in therapy, I was finally introduced to a book by Pia Mellody that referenced sexual abuse, coercion, and codependency.

All things that applied.

I brought them up to my husband to share what I had learned, hopeful that he could grow and change.

In one ear and out the other.

I don’t know what made me think that after this long, and knowing my history with sexual abuse, and still blaming me in our relationship, he would suddenly understand or be able to change.

But I had hope.

For a while, at least.

Once your eyes are opened to these things, you can’t miss them.

And you can no longer excuse them, especially from people who are supposed to love you.

So please be aware of coercive control in its MANY forms.

I’d like to educate others. Open their eyes to it too. Have them call it out.

And if it doesn’t stop, I want them to know they can escape their situation like I did.

Look it up.

Know the tactics.

Call it out.

It’s abuse. Full stop.

No means no. Also full stop.

People who love you don’t act this way.

Coercive control is extremely common in abusive relationships:

• 60–80% of women seeking help for abuse report experiencing coercive control.
• Some reports estimate over 95% of domestic violence victims experience coercive control.

Does any of this sound familiar?

If it does, please know this:

You are not crazy.

You are not broken.

And “no” was never supposed to mean “try again until I give in.”