“It Wasn’t Love—It Was a Trauma Bond (and a Soul Contract): How I Finally Saw the Pattern and Broke Free”

For nearly six years, I lived inside something I couldn’t name.

I was trauma bonded. Gaslit. Blamed. Discredited. Controlled. And told it was “love.” But love doesn’t look like what I went through. It doesn’t silence, isolate, and shame you for your pain. It doesn’t manipulate your mind until you question your goodness, your sanity, and your soul. It doesn’t reward obedience and punish truth.

This wasn’t love.

This was narcissistic abuse.

And I know that now… because I’ve lived through the global pattern of it. Emotional, psychological, financial, spiritual, and yes—even physical intimidation, though he never laid a hand on me. I’m speaking now, because for too long I was silenced. For too long, I was told I was the problem.

Now, I reclaim the truth. And I write this for anyone else that may still be stuck in the fog.

The Emotional and Psychological Abuse: How He Manipulated My Mind

He would punish me emotionally for asking questions. He didn’t want truth—he wanted control. The moment I asked about something tangible (like finding hair in his shower that wasn’t mine… or why he didn’t have money for his part of the bills), he didn’t explain. He attacked. Because asking questions threatens the mask. So he made sure I knew not to ask them again.

He accused me of cheating constantly—never with proof. Just fear. He’d monitor my phone, kept me on video chat all night, every night, like it was about connection. It wasn’t. It was surveillance. Digital lockdown. Because he’d already claimed I was cheating if he saw me online (time-killing because I couldn’t sleep… saying there was only ONE reason to be online at that hour… forgetting he was clearly online at that hour too to even see me there.)

He would devalue me in a thousand tiny ways that added up to a lifetime of not-enoughness. He wouldn’t kiss me unless I had just brushed my teeth. He stood over me and told me I brushed them wrong more than once. He wouldn’t be intimate with me unless I’d just taken a bath. So I started taking a bath every single night so I’d be “clean.” I had never been made to feel that way about my body before.

He told me I cooked wrong. Drained noodles wrong. Loaded the dishwasher wrong. I’ve cooked since I was 12 years old. But suddenly I was incompetent at everything. And if I ever defended myself? I was “too sensitive.” “Causing drama.” “Distrurbing his peace.”

He told me I took advantage of him over a few dollars of Easter candy—for our children early in dating. But he didn’t rember that I Paid his $3000 repossession debt. Bought him furniture. Paid for his online subscriptions and even his pizza at times. He called me greedy, even after I gave him thousands of dollars. Even after he moved into the home I built, and still didn’t contribute to the bills on time while living there.

He gaslit me endlessly. If I cried, it was manipulation. If I stayed silent, I was giving the silent treatment. If I got overwhelmed, I was unstable. There was no right way to exist with him. Only ways to be wrong.

The Financial Abuse: What He Took, And What He Never Gave Back

Let me be clear: I didn’t need a man to take care of me. But I came from a long-term marriage where I was cared for and provided for. I didn’t work, pay bills, or even have to pump my own gas. The issue that ended my marriage had nothing to do with anything like that. That’s what that man did right.

He entered my life while I was building a new home, opening businesses, and leasing a brand-new car. I put $50,000 down on that house. I gave him opportunity after opportunity… not because he earned it, but because I believed in giving people a chance.

When we met, he was living in a friend’s spare bedroom, working a factory job making $11/hr. He didn’t tell me how recent his divorce really was, acted like he couldn’t remember. I later realized he had JUST moved out of the marriage home barely a month prior. From the beginning, he showed up with empty hands and entitlement.

I wasn’t with him for what he could provide. I had that taken care of, but I didn’t want to be used either. And the truth, he would’ve financially drained me, if I let him.

He used my car all the time “because it was more reliable. He ran up the mileage so fast I had to buy a new one early… since leases have mileage limits. He used the gas and never replaced it. He was constantly behind on bills. And never seemed to respect that I lost $800/month in alimony just by moving him in. So his contribution mattered even more. He agreed to pay $1,000/month toward bills…but that was only a net $200 benefit to me… but when he didn’t have it, the loss was significantly greater to me because my income was already less now than before he moved in.

He contributed late. He paid inconsistently. He left me carrying the weight. The only thing he was consistent in was making me responsible for everything, while still blaming me for not doing more.

Even during the refinance of my home (which I paid for), I gave him $2,000 for cosigning a house he was going to live in. Then he then told people he paid off my car. That was my equity. My mortgage. My life. And he wanted credit without responsibility.

The Physical Intimidation and Control

He never hit me. But he did scare me.

He used his body to control space. He blocked doors. He got in my face. He pushed his chest against mine to trap me. He made me scared to knock on a door just to use the bathroom. And when I did, he yelled at me and later called me a dumbass.

He used volume, tone, presence. He knew how to look at me in a way that said: “Don’t you dare.” He raged at me in the driveway over finances. Told me he’d decide what he’d do with me when he got home. Like he owned me. Like I was his problem to solve.

His anger was explosive over even the most minor inconvenience. He left ruts in my yard with his truck because he didn’t like someone parking behind him. He made messes and called me controlling if I asked for help or clarity. And through it all, he rewrote the story. Because to him, if he didn’t punch me, it wasn’t abuse.

And In the End… All He Could Admit Was This:

When everything finally broke, the only thing he admitted to was calling me a “dumbass” and “raising his voice.” That’s it.

After six years of emotional, psychological, financial, and spiritual abuse, he reduced all of it down to two isolated incidents. And then made me feel ridiculous for being hurt by them. Because… just “Raising your voice isn’t trauma,” right?

But here’s the truth: when yelling is used to silence, intimidate, and control you—it is abuse. When names are used to break your spirit—it is abuse. When someone minimizes the harm they’ve done—it’s not accountability. It’s manipulation.

What It’s Left Me With

Now, even though I am seeing someone absolutely incredible… someone who is stable, loving, kind, and consistent—I still feel myself still on edge. My nervous system is on alert. Still asking: “Are we safe?”

That’s what trauma does. That’s what psychological abuse does. It wires your brain to expect harm, even when it’s not coming.

I’m working every day not to let the damage of this dynamic ruin the beauty I’m stepping into now. Because I didn’t survive all that to sabotage my joy. I fought my way out so I could live the life I actually deserve.

Why I’m Speaking Now

Because I lost my voice in that relationship. I was silenced, gaslit, and made to doubt my own goodness. And now, my healing is about reclaiming my reality. About naming what was real. About showing others the pattern—because it’s never about a one-time event. It’s about the globalness of it all. How it infiltrates everything.

This was emotional abuse.

This was psychological abuse.

This was financial abuse.

This was physical intimidation.

And it was a high level soul contract too… which makes it more confusing.

Not because I deserved it. But because my soul chose to transform through it. Because I had to meet this mirror—the exact kind of fire that would force my phoenix to rise.

That’s why I can say this was a trauma bond and a soul contract. It was never love… though my love for him was real, I see now that he never actually loved me. He used me, abused me, and controlled me. But it made me become the woman who now knows her worth so deeply, no one will ever rewrite her reality again.

And if that’s you? If you’re reading this and seeing your own story?

Then let this be your clarity.

Let this be your mirror.

Let this be your freedom.

You’re not crazy. You’re not weak. You’re waking up.

This Is the Work of Healing:

• Reclaiming your identity

• Reclaiming your narrative

• Reclaiming your intuition

• Reclaiming the difference between real love and emotional violence

And most of all?

Reclaiming your ability to feel safe again… without apology.

The Truth Is the Cure

You don’t have to fix them.

You don’t have to understand them.

You don’t even have to hate them.

You just have to see them—clearly.

Not the illusion. Not the mask.

Just the truth.

And once you do?

You never let anyone take that truth from you again.

To the One Still Doubting Yourself

You are not broken.

You are not crazy.

You are not too much.

You are someone who loved with your whole heart, and got used by someone who never intended to hold that love properly.

But now?

You are reclaiming every piece of your power.

And no one—no one—gets to distort your reality ever again.

You are allowed to heal.

You are allowed to love again.

And this time?

You get to feel safe doing it.

This is not love… this is control, manipulation, and trauma-bonding. And you don’t have to live like that anymore.