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Anger After Abuse Isn’t Destructive – It’s Healing

By
Samara Knight
-
anger after abuse

Anger has long been framed as a “negative” emotion and something to suppress. Survivors of abuse are often told to stay calm, be rational, and try to forgive if they want to move on. But there are many emotions that can arise in the aftermath of abuse, such as rage, fury, and grief. What happens when those emotions are seen as wrong or shameful? For many survivors, giving themselves permission to feel angry becomes an essential part of healing.

Anger is not the enemy; it’s a messenger and a sign that a boundary has been crossed. Anger is a part of you screaming, “That was not okay.”

Many survivors who accepted feeling anger as part of their process after abuse have described their experiences. One said, “It wasn’t until I let myself feel the anger that I stopped trying to make sense of it all. I was finally able to name what happened as abuse” and another person added, “I spent years trying to forgive too soon. What I needed was to feel angry, to feel all of it, before I could even begin to heal.”

Why Anger Is Often Suppressed After Abuse

Many survivors were conditioned, long before the abuse began, to downplay their emotions. Women especially are taught that expressing anger makes them “difficult” or “ungrateful.” In abusive relationships, this belief gets weaponized. Survivors are gaslit into believing their reactions are the problem—not the harm itself.

“I wasn’t even allowed to be upset,” one person shared. “If I cried or looked angry, he’d mock me or threaten to leave. So I just went numb.”

Another shared, “My abusive ex would regularly go into rages, but if I showed even the slightest hint of anger, he’d call me crazy, insane, or mentally unstable. I learnt to shut down my anger because it was the safest option.”

This emotional suppression creates an internal pressure that builds over time, until it either implodes in depression or erupts in delayed rage.

The Double Standard Around Survivor Anger

When survivors speak with sadness or pain, they’re often met with empathy. But when they speak with anger—they’re usually met with discomfort, disapproval, or silence.

“When I finally told someone I was furious about what he did, they told me I needed to let it go. But I hadn’t even had space to feel it yet,” one woman said.

Someone else shared, “People don’t know what to do with angry survivors. But if they’d lived through what we did, they’d be angry too.”

This double standard reflects a societal discomfort with victim power. When survivors reclaim their voice through anger, they disrupt the narrative that they are broken, fragile, or passive victims.

Anger as a Sign of Healing

Contrary to the belief that anger is a step backward, many trauma therapists see it as a sign of recovery. In the early stages of abuse, many survivors blame themselves. Anger often signals the moment they begin to shift that blame outward—toward the person that harmed them.

“The first time I allowed myself to say, ‘He hurt me on purpose,’ I cried for hours. But they weren’t sad tears—they were angry ones. And they were freeing,” one survivor wrote.

Another said, “It was only when I got angry that I stopped trying to fix him and started protecting myself.”

Anger can help with reclaiming dignity. It affirms that what happened wasn’t okay. It moves the survivor from confusion to clarity—and often to action.

Give Yourself Permission to Feel Your Emotions

For many people, it can be difficult to allow themselves to feel angry without guilt. Especially for those raised in religious or cultural environments that equate anger with sin or “being bad,” this can be deeply challenging. But every human emotion is valid—including rage.

One person reflected how their views on feeling anger changed following abuse, “I grew up thinking anger was unholy. But now I think not feeling it was the real harm.” Another person echoed how they needed to shift their perspective on this emotion, saying “I had to learn that anger wasn’t a failure of healing. It was the healing.”

Whether it’s writing an unsent letter, screaming into a pillow, hitting a punching bag, running it out on a treadmill, or simply telling a friend, “I’m mad as hell”—expressing anger safely and consciously is a powerful step toward recovery.

When Anger Feels Scary

For some survivors, anger brings up fear. Either because it reminds them of their abuser’s violence or because they worry they’ll become “just like them.” But survivor anger, grounded in truth, is not the same as abusive rage. One is about harm. The other is about healing.

“I was afraid that if I felt the anger, I’d become someone else,” one survivor said. “But I didn’t. I became more me than I’d been in years.” Another added, “His anger destroyed. Mine restored.”

Anger doesn’t mean lashing out or hurting others. It can be a deeply private, reflective, and cathartic experience. It’s not about revenge—it’s about release.

Transforming Anger into Strength

Once anger has been acknowledged and expressed, many survivors channel it into purpose. They advocate. They write. They protect others.

“My anger got me out,” said one woman. “But it also got me through.”
Another survivor shared, “I used to feel guilty about being angry. Now I see it was my inner protector all along.”

When survivors stop apologizing for their anger, they may discover that the emotion provides a new source of strength to take action. The same fire that once burned in silence becomes a light that guides them forward.

Experiencing anger after abuse isn’t something to fear. It’s something to honor. It’s the part of you that never accepted mistreatment, that rises up no matter what has tried to silence it. Feeling anger doesn’t mean you’re stuck in the past —it can be a sign that you’re healing. And when someone who’s healing from abuse identifies their feelings of anger and allow themselves space to experience that emotion in a safe way, peace often follows.

Featured Image: Feeling angry after abuse is normal and it’s healthy to work through that emotion. Source: stokkete / Adobe Stock

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

New Report Reveals Ireland’s Family Courts Are Failing Domestic Abuse Victims

By
Samara Knight
-
family law court failing abuse victims

Survivors of domestic abuse are being retraumatised by the very system meant to protect them, according to a major new study commissioned by Women’s Aid and conducted by Trinity College Dublin and University College Cork. Drawing on the experiences of over 400 survivors, the research paints a grim picture of Ireland’s family court system—one that too often overlooks ongoing abuse, fails to prioritise safety, and reinforces coercive control through legal processes.

“It is one of the worst things I’ve ever been through. Ever,” one survivor reported. “I sometimes put it down as worse than some of the things that he did, because of what resulted from it.”

A Stage for the Abuse to Continue

Describing their time in family law proceedings, survivors used words like “relentless,” “horrific,” and “retraumatising.” In many cases, the abuse didn’t end with separation—it evolved. The court process, rather than offering relief, became a new battleground where abusers weaponised the legal system to maintain control.

“It’s essentially a stage for the abuse to continue,” one survivor in the study shared.

According to the report, 92% of survivors said the abuse either began or worsened after separation and during court proceedings. Patterns of coercive control, emotional abuse, and financial abuse frequently escalated during this period. Victims described being manipulated through repeat summons, adjournments, and court-ordered access that enabled intimidation.

Court-Ordered Contact as a Tool of Coercive Control

A central finding was that court-ordered access often put survivors and their children in harm’s way. In trying to comply with legal requirements, victims were forced into ongoing contact with their abuser—what Women’s Aid called “court-sanctioned opportunities for further abuse.”

Sarah Benson, CEO of Women’s Aid, said on RTÉ’s Morning Ireland that survivors were being “required to regularly engage with their abuser,” sometimes leading to fresh harm or trauma. She added that this reflected a “completely inadequate” system that assumes abuse ends once a relationship does.

Parental Alienation Accusations Undermine Protective Parents

A troubling theme was the widespread misuse of the term parental alienation, often weaponised against protective parents—primarily mothers—who raised safety concerns. Instead of their fears being acknowledged, they were accused of manipulating their children or undermining the father’s role.

The research found that in many cases, judges and assessors failed to meaningfully consider the possibility of domestic abuse, instead accepting parental alienation claims without sufficient scrutiny. As Benson stated to RTÉ, “this was especially evident in the reported experiences of court-appointed assessors,” who often lacked adequate training in recognising coercive control or post-separation abuse.

The report found that children’s views were frequently dismissed or ignored altogether. Many expressed fear about visits with the abusive parent, yet their perspectives were sidelined.

Despite expressing discomfort, many children were compelled to maintain contact due to court mandates. Survivors said their children felt unsafe and unheard, reinforcing the perception that the family law process prioritised the rights of the perpetrator over the wellbeing of victims.

A Call for Urgent Reform in Family Law

The new research exposes a family law system out of step with the reality of domestic abuse. A significant proportion of cases involve ongoing abuse, yet professionals across the system—from judges to legal practitioners—are often unequipped to recognise or respond to it.

Sarah Benson noted, “What we are particularly appalled by is the finding that adult victim-survivors of domestic abuse navigating the system for matters of guardianship, custody, and access describe the experience as relentless, overwhelmingly negative and retraumatising, with some saying that it became ‘even worse than the abuse’.” [via The Journal].

Women’s Aid is calling for a domestic abuse-informed overhaul of Ireland’s family justice system. This includes mandatory training in coercive control, improved legal representation, and a shift away from blanket assumptions that separation ends the abuse.

Experts Demand a Domestic Abuse-Informed Justice System

Professor Stephanie Holt of Trinity College, the lead researcher on the report, described the family court system as “fundamentally flawed” in its response to abuse. She called for systemic reform that places the safety and voices of both adult and child survivors at the centre of legal decision-making.

As pressure mounts, the Department of Justice has reaffirmed its commitment to reform through the Family Justice Strategy 2022–2025 and the Family Courts Act 2024. But campaigners stress that unless those reforms are deeply informed by the lived realities of domestic abuse survivors, the system will continue to retraumatise those it should be protecting.

Featured image: Family law courts are failing domestic abuse victims. Source: IBEX.Media / Adobe Stock.

The Hidden Pain of Not Being Believed After Domestic Abuse

By
Samara Knight
-
not being believed after abuse

Leaving an abusive relationship is one of the hardest steps a person can make. It requires extraordinary bravery to walk away from someone who controlled, manipulated, or hurt you—especially when fear and affection are so deeply tangled. But for many people who make that brave decision, the heartbreak doesn’t end with freedom. Instead, they face something just as devastating: not being believed after abuse.

This second form of betrayal doesn’t come from the person who harmed them—it often comes from those they expected to offer support: friends, family members, co-workers, professionals, or even entire communities. And the emotional damage it causes runs just as deep.

Reaching for support, but met with blame

After breaking away from abuse, survivors often want to share their stories and begin to make sense of their experiences. But when they are met with denial or judgment, the emotional impact can be jarring.

One survivor shared, “After being able to share some of what it was like, hoping for some comfort, my stepmother said, ‘I told you not to move in with him.’”

Another recalled, “My mom said, ‘He must’ve really been upset when he got fired from his job,’ as if that was a good reason to abuse me.”

While these remarks may seem harmless or even caring to the speaker, they can feel like echoes of the abuse for the survivor. They invalidate what happened and often mirror the gaslighting or deflection used by the abuser. For someone not being believed after abuse, these responses deepen the trauma.

The pain of being dismissed and misjudged

Even after escaping, survivors may find that the harm doesn’t stop. This time, it’s not physical or verbal abuse—it’s disbelief, downplaying, or denial of what they’ve endured.

Phrases like “It wasn’t that bad” or “Sorry things didn’t work out” might sound polite, but to the survivor, they can feel like another round of gaslighting.

One survivor recalled, “I can’t believe you left him; he was such a good man,” repeating the kind of denial they’d already endured in the relationship. Another said, “You should’ve said something sooner,” a phrase that shifts blame onto the survivor rather than acknowledging the complexity and fear that kept them silent.

These reactions breed shame and uncertainty, leaving survivors isolated and unsupported—especially harmful when they’ve already struggled with not being believed after abuse.

When disbelief becomes a wound of its own

Being met with disbelief isn’t just disappointing—it can create lasting emotional scars. When someone who’s escaped an abusive situation begins to doubt their own memory, their sense of reality, or their right to feel hurt, recovery becomes much harder.

“My own mother had the audacity to say I must have liked the abuse,” said one woman. “I love her from a distance now… I don’t have to put up with her mental abuse either.”

“I have several friends who still don’t fully comprehend how bad or dangerous it all was for me,” one woman said. “That made me doubt my own experiences at a vulnerable time when I was still getting over being gaslit by him.”

Another survivor shared, “The cop I reported to said, ‘You’re just making this up,’ after doing zero investigation.”

These aren’t isolated stories. For many, the experience of not being believed after abuse happens repeatedly—eroding the fragile ground they’re trying to stand on.

When systems that promise safety fall short

It’s deeply painful when friends and family don’t listen. But when professionals dismiss your trauma, it can be downright traumatic. Survivors are often told to trust these services. They’re promised safety. But when those same systems ignore them, the betrayal cuts even deeper.

One woman said, “I told the therapist what he did, and she asked me what I had done to trigger him. I never went back.”

Another shared, “My child told the judge he was scared of his dad. I tried to protect him, but they said I was alienating him. Then they gave full custody to the man he was afraid of.”

Another recalled reporting a strangulation incident: “The cop never investigated and just said I was making it up.”

For anyone not being believed after abuse, this kind of institutional disbelief reinforces the trauma. It tells survivors their truth doesn’t matter—and that no one will help.

Why it’s easier for some to deny than accept

People often find it easier to dismiss or question a survivor’s account than to accept that someone they know could be abusive. Many people still believe abuse must be loud, visible, or physical—and they struggle to recognize coercive or emotional abuse when it doesn’t fit those expectations.

“There’s this idea that abuse has to look like bruises and black eyes,” one survivor said. “But for me, it was the constant erosion of self-worth. When I talked about it, people looked at me like I was overreacting.”

Another added, “I wish people knew how many of us look ‘fine’ on the outside. How many of us smiled through hell.”

When others choose the easier version of the story—the one that denies abuse—they leave survivors bearing the full weight of not being believed after abuse.

The dangerous road back

One of the most harmful consequences of being dismissed is that many survivors end up returning to their abuser. Not because they wanted to—but because they were isolated, shamed, and made to feel their experiences weren’t real or serious.

“Real support can be felt,” one survivor said. “A lot head back to their abuser because they didn’t get support—they got reprimanded and invalidated.”

Another echoed the heartbreak of this cycle: “I left once and no one believed me—not even my closest friend. I started wondering if I was overreacting. So I went back. And things got worse.”

When survivors are met with disbelief, they’re left carrying the trauma alone. That silence can become overwhelming—and sometimes, dangerous.

Restoring belief, one voice at a time

Recovering from abuse is already a long and painful journey. But trying to heal while also coping with not being believed after abuse adds a heavy layer of grief. Survivors must look for new sources of support and affirmation—often in therapy, survivor groups, or anonymous spaces online.

“I wish someone had just said, ‘I believe you,’” one person said. “Those three words could have changed everything.”

Another said, “Quiet support. No questions, no judgment, but understanding, acceptance, acknowledgment… that’s what I needed.”

These moments of being believed are powerful. They help survivors reconnect with their truth and slowly rebuild what abuse and disbelief tried to destroy.

Not being believed after abuse is a profound and painful betrayal. But by listening with compassion, by choosing to trust survivors without judgment, we can help stop this secondary wound. And for those who’ve already lived it, know this: your story matters, your pain is real, and you never needed anyone’s permission to protect yourself or choose what was right for you.

Featured image: When victims are not believed. Source: fizkes / Adobe Stock.

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

Queensland Says ‘Enough’: Coercive Control Now a Criminal Offense Under Hannah’s Law

By
Samara Knight
-
coercive control in Queensland

In a historic move to combat domestic abuse, the state of Queensland in Australia has officially criminalised coercive control — a pattern of controlling and abusive behaviour that often precedes domestic homicide. The legislation, known as Hannah’s Law, came into effect on May 26, 2025, and carries a maximum penalty of 14 years’ imprisonment.

Named in honour of Hannah Clarke and her three children, who were murdered by her estranged husband in 2020, the law marks a turning point in how Australia responds to non-physical domestic violence. Hannah’s death, which shocked the nation, has since become a symbol of the silent suffering many endure behind closed doors.

Lloyd Clarke, Hannah’s father, said it was vital to recognize the many sacrifices made throughout the journey — not just by his family — as those efforts have made it possible to hold future abusers accountable.

What Is Coercive Control?

Coercive control refers to repeated abusive behaviours — emotional, psychological, financial, or technological — intended to dominate, isolate, or instil fear in a partner. Under the new Queensland law, these behaviours are now officially recognised as a serious criminal offense when used in the context of domestic relationships.

Nadia Bromley, CEO of Women’s Legal Service Queensland, emphasized the significance of this shift: “For a long time, we’ve known that coercive control underpins a lot of domestic family violence,” she said [via SBS]. “This change today is about recognising that coercive control is a very serious form of domestic violence.”

While coercive control does not always involve physical violence, its effects can be equally, if not more, devastating. Victims often experience long-term trauma, anxiety, depression — and in too many cases, the abuse ends in homicide. A review in New South Wales found that 97 percent of intimate partner homicides were preceded by coercive control.

A Global Shift Against Invisible Abuse

As Queensland joins New South Wales in criminalising coercive control, the push for legal reform is gaining traction globally. The United Kingdom and Ireland have already made coercive control a criminal offense, recognising that controlling behaviours can be deadly even in the absence of physical violence.

New South Wales was the first Australian state to pass coercive control legislation, with the law taking effect in July 2024. Like Queensland’s reforms, it followed years of advocacy, high-profile tragedies, and growing awareness that domestic abuse often begins long before the first act of physical violence.

The legislation in Queensland was first introduced to Parliament in 2023, following recommendations from the Women’s Safety and Justice Taskforce. It applies to abusive behaviours occurring on or after May 26, 2025, and is backed by bipartisan support.

Amanda Camm, Queensland’s Minister for the Prevention of Domestic and Family Violence, described coercive control as the “underpinning dynamic” of abuse: “It can include physical and non-physical forms of abuse and creates a climate of fear, humiliation, isolation, that over time, erodes the victim’s sense of identity, freedom and independence [via Women’s Agenda].”

Technology and the Changing Face of Abuse

Frontline workers have embraced the new law, describing it as a long-needed step forward. Adam Beck, area manager at Centacare’s domestic violence service on the Sunshine Coast, noted that patterns of controlling behaviour frequently precede lethal violence. He explained that abusers often manipulate what they know about their victims to instil fear or maintain control, rather than relying on any fixed set of tactics.

Modern technology has further complicated the issue. Research by the eSafety Commission revealed alarming attitudes toward digital surveillance in relationships: nearly a quarter of Australians think it’s acceptable to demand a partner’s phone passwords, and 13 percent agree it’s reasonable to track them via location apps. Perpetrators have also used children to gain access to private information, including passwords and surveillance during video calls.

Hannah’s Family Leads the Change

Sue Clarke, Hannah’s mother, said her daughter hadn’t recognized the danger she was in:
“If knowing about coercive control could save someone’s life, we’d be willing to share our story a thousand times over [via SBS].”

Since Hannah’s murder, her parents have become relentless advocates, establishing the Small Steps 4 Hannah foundation to raise awareness and educate Australians on the dangers of coercive control. Their campaigning helped push this law across the finish line, ensuring other victims may receive protection before it’s too late.

Queensland Attorney-General Deb Frecklington described the new legislation as a major move toward greater justice and protection, highlighting that the coercive control laws, backed by bipartisan support, will strengthen efforts to hold abusers accountable.

However, experts warn that the law’s success will depend on education and proper implementation. Some advocates have raised concerns about the risk of misidentification, particularly for women who may be incorrectly identified as perpetrators when acting in self-defense. Training for police, legal professionals, and support workers is essential to ensure the law protects the people it was designed for.

As coercive control continues to gain recognition worldwide, Queensland’s new law adds momentum to the broader global movement. The law, born of tragedy, now stands as a symbol of change — not just in memory of Hannah Clarke and her children, but for every survivor who was never believed, and for those still living in silence.

Featured image: Coercive control has been criminalized in Queensland. Source: kieferpix / Adobe Stock.

The Journey to Self-Forgiveness: Healing After Abuse

By
Samara Knight
-
forgiving yourself after abuse

For many survivors of domestic abuse, the hardest person to forgive isn’t the one who hurt them—it’s themselves.

Even after leaving, after the danger has passed, many of us carry an invisible burden. The burden we carry is more than the trauma of what was done to us; there’s also guilt, self-blame, and regret for what we did or didn’t do in response to the abuse. We reflect on our choices: Why didn’t I leave sooner? Why did I believe them? Why didn’t I protect myself—or my children—better? And over time, these questions often morph into something much heavier: shame.

To begin forgiving ourselves, we first need to explore the complex reasons why shame exists in the first place.

Silent Self-Blame That Lingers

Abuse is designed to disempower. It chips away at your self-trust until you start doubting your instincts, your decisions, even your memories. And when you finally get out, you’re often left holding the wreckage, unsure how much of it you caused.

“I remember thinking,” one survivor shared, “maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I’m remembering it wrong. Maybe I’m exaggerating.”

Another reflected on her feelings of guilt and self-blame, “I let that thing into my life. I gave it my soul. That’s something I have to live with.”

One woman said, “I used to think it was my fault. That I needed to communicate better. That if I just said things right, he’d understand.”

This kind of self-questioning is common in the aftermath of abuse—especially if you’ve been gaslighted, invalidated, or repeatedly blamed by the person who hurt you. And even when you intellectually understand that you were abused, the emotional residue lingers.

The Myth of the Perfect Reaction

Part of what makes forgiving yourself after abuse so difficult is the unrealistic standard we often impose on ourselves. We imagine the “ideal” survivor of abuse—someone who sees the red flags immediately, walks away at the first sign of harm, and never looks back. But that’s rarely how it works.

Abusers are skilled at weaving together kindness and cruelty. They create confusion, dependency, and hope. And survivors—especially those who were isolated or groomed from an early age—may not recognize the harm until they’re deep inside the cycle.

“I didn’t realize it was abuse until years after I left,” one survivor wrote. “I just knew I was unhappy, that I was losing pieces of myself, but I didn’t have the words for it yet.”

Another reflected, “For 30 years I kept thinking if I just did better or acted differently, things would change—until I realized they never would.”

Many of us punish ourselves for the ways we coped—whether that was minimizing the abuse, lashing out, staying too long, or shutting down emotionally. But those were survival mechanisms. You did the best you could with the knowledge and support you had at the time.

Self-forgiveness begins when we acknowledge the complexity of abuse. No one stayed because they were weak. Many of us stayed longer than we would have liked because our existence became trying to survive something that was designed to keep us trapped.

Grieving the Versions of Ourselves We Lost

Forgiving yourself also means grieving: grieving the years lost, the dreams that were derailed, the person you were before the abuse began. This grief is deeply personal and can be painful to sit with.

“I felt ashamed that I wasn’t able to save my marriage,” one survivor said. “That a devoted wife should have been able to help her husband overcome his addictions. I felt absolutely defeated.”

Another person said, “I feel like I lost out on so many great opportunities in my life because I didn’t leave him sooner. When I think about all the things I didn’t do and doors that are now closed to me since I spent so many years worried about keeping him happy, it makes me want to cry.”

Forgiving yourself means letting go of the illusion. It means no longer shaming yourself for believing in something that wasn’t real—because you wanted it to be and you deserve real and healthy love.

When Others Reinforce the Blame

One of the hardest parts of recovery is when others echo the blame we already place on ourselves. Whether it’s subtle judgment, religious condemnation, or outright dismissal, it can deepen the wounds and stall the process of healing.

“I was told, ‘Just get over it’—as if I hadn’t already tried,” one woman said.

Other survivors reported hearing, “No wonder he treated you like that” or “If it was so bad, why didn’t you just leave?”. This victim-blaming reflects a poor understanding of the power dynamics inherent in domestic abuse and invalidate survivors’ experiences.

When the world doesn’t offer compassion, it becomes even more crucial that we offer it to ourselves.

Reframing the Narrative

Self-forgiveness doesn’t mean excusing everything you did or didn’t do. It means understanding your actions in the context of trauma. It means recognizing that you were manipulated, isolated, or afraid—and that your responses were human.

“I’ve forgiven myself for putting up with it,” one survivor said. “For falling into the trap. For the ways I could’ve behaved better. I’ve moved on and am constantly healing.”

“I used to beat myself up for not leaving sooner, especially because of the horrible things my children witnessed” another survivor shared. “But then I realised—I wasn’t free to choose. I was surviving the only way I knew how.”

You are not the person who set out to hurt you. You are the person who survived. And now, you’re a person who is healing.

Forgiving Yourself After Abuse is a Gentle, Ongoing Process

Self-compassion and forgiveness is not a one-time decision—it’s a process. Some days you’ll feel strong and clear. Other days the old voices will return, whispering blame and doubt. That’s normal. That’s part of it.

You don’t have to rush it. You don’t have to “get over it.” You’re allowed to move slowly. To feel it all. To forgive yourself in layers.

And when it feels too hard, come back to this:
You didn’t deserve what happened to you.
You were doing the best you could.
You are not broken—you were hurt.
And you are worthy of healing, love, and a life that is yours again.

Featured Image: Many survivors struggle with it, but it’s important to forgive yourself after abuse. Source: alexandre zveiger/ Adobe Stock

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

Silenced in Church: When Religious Communities Dismiss Domestic Abuse

By
Samara Knight
-
religious communities ignore domestic abuse

For many survivors of abuse, faith can be a source of comfort, strength, and belonging. But for others, religious communities become yet another place where their pain is ignored, their voices silenced, and their abusers protected. Spiritual teachings meant to offer healing are sometimes weaponized to keep domestic abuse survivors quiet and submissive—turning sacred spaces into sources of further harm.

When Scripture Becomes a Weapon

Many survivors report that religious texts or beliefs were used to justify staying with their abuser. Beliefs like “God hates divorce” or “submit to your husband” are twisted and stripped of context, used to pressure people—especially women—into enduring mistreatment for the sake of spiritual obedience.

One survivor wrote, “My narcissistic father always used our religion like a cricket bat to emotionally beat me over the head, so he could control me.”

“I was told I was going to hell if I left,” one woman said. “Even though he was abusing me and our child.” Another said, “Even today he was questioning my Christianity, saying my boundaries are unbiblical and abusive.”

Instead of being encouraged to seek safety, survivors are often told to pray harder, forgive more, or have more faith.

Another shared how her husband controlled her ability to express her faith, “My husband was not so religious but I am. If he caught me playing Christian music, all hell would break loose by physical abuse.”

The result for both of these situations is a deep internal conflict between spiritual belief and survival instinct.

Protecting the Abuser, Not the Victim

In many cases, abusers are respected members of their religious community—pastors, volunteers, “good husbands,” or regular churchgoers. A public persona as devout or upright can make it almost impossible for others to believe the person could be abusive behind closed doors.

“My ex father-in-law was a preacher,” one woman wrote. “Behind closed doors, he was a full-blown narc and abuser. Same as both his sons.” Another survivor said, “My church saw him as a wonderful, giving man. But they didn’t see what he did at home.”

This dissonance often leads communities to downplay the abuse, blame the victim, or quietly encourage her to stay for the sake of appearances. In some cases, church leadership actively discourages divorce or disclosure, prioritizing the image of a strong marriage or the institution over the wellbeing of the individual.

The Pressure to Stay Silent

For survivors who are religious, being shamed by their community is especially painful. They are often already struggling with guilt, confusion, and grief. Being told they are sinning by leaving an abuser—or worse, being ostracized for speaking up—only compounds their suffering.

“The worst is when we look the other way and allow church doctrines to prevent women from divorcing and make them stay for years in domestic violence,” one woman shared. Another said, “He abused me and then claimed I had to forgive him because we were Christians and as a Christian, I was called to forgive.”

This weaponized forgiveness can silence a survivor’s pain, forcing them to spiritually reconcile with someone who has shown no remorse, accountability, or change. This can escalate abuse over time since there are no repercussions for the abuser and the victim’s story is ignored.

Leaving Both the Abuse—and the Church

For some, leaving their abuser also meant leaving their faith community behind. The betrayal by those they trusted spiritually created wounds that ran just as deep as the abuse itself.

“My ex-husband abused me in every way. But what hurt almost as much was being shamed in church when I left him,” one woman explained. Another survivor said, “My friends’ church supported her abuser and told her she was being ungrateful. It broke her spirit. She doesn’t go to church anymore.”

When spiritual communities prioritize doctrine over human dignity and safety, survivors are left spiritually homeless—unable to find support in a space that once grounded them and with the people who claimed to care.

Finding Faith After Betrayal

Despite everything, many survivors eventually reclaim their faith—but on their own terms. They find new communities, redefine their relationship with God, or rebuild their spirituality in quiet, personal ways.

“Even though I left the church that enabled my abuser, I found a new one—one that listened, that believed, that didn’t ask me to pretend,” a survivor shared.

Another wrote, “I still believe in God. I just don’t believe in staying where my soul is dying.”

“A pastor from a different church came to me and told me he would come with me to the police. That one act changed everything,” another person shared. This shows that while some religious individuals and institutions may be complicit, others can offer true sanctuary.

For some survivors, faith becomes the very thing that leads them out of darkness.

Reclaiming Voice and Belief

The journey of healing after spiritual betrayal is long, but survivors do not have to walk it alone. There are faith leaders who speak up, communities that protect the vulnerable, and spaces that do not demand submission to abuse in exchange for salvation.

Reclaiming faith after a religious community denied or dismissed domestic abuse means allowing your own spirit to speak louder than the voices that once told you to stay silent. It means believing that your safety, your dignity, and your voice matter in the eyes of something bigger.

When coercive control and domestic abuse are denied by a religious community or these groups choose to help abusers maintain their public image over supporting survivors, they are failing those they claim to protect. But survivors are not alone, and despite what some religious practitioners may say, they are not wrong for leaving an abusive relationship and putting their wellbeing first.

No faith should require you to stay in harm’s way. If your religious community told you otherwise, know this: You don’t owe them your silence and submission. Your life matters more than their judgment.

Featured Image: Religious communities may dismiss domestic violence to “keep up appearances” and some abusers misrepresent religious teachings to control their partners. Source: Sana / Adobe Stock.

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

1 in 5 Think It’s Normal to Track a Partner: The Rise of Tech-Based Coercive Control

By
Samara Knight
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phone tracking and coercive control

It might seem harmless to use location-sharing apps to stay connected, but when that behavior carries over into romantic relationships, it can cross the line into something far more dangerous. Increasingly, young people around the world are using phone tracking as a way to stay connected to their partners—but experts warn it’s also fueling a disturbing rise in coercive control.

Recent research from Australia’s eSafety Commission has cast a stark light on this growing trend, revealing that nearly one in five young Australians aged 18 to 24 believe it’s normal to track their partner’s location. What many see as affection is increasingly recognized as a gateway to abusive, controlling behaviors—and experts say it’s happening worldwide.

Love or Surveillance? Normalized Tracking in Young Relationships

ABC News reports that apps like Life360, Find My iPhone, and Snap Maps were designed for convenience and safety. But their use in intimate relationships is reshaping how young people perceive boundaries. According to the eSafety Commission’s recent report, over 18% of young Australians expect to be able to track their partner “whenever they want.” Nearly a quarter see password sharing as a requirement for trust, and a third believe it’s acceptable to check how their partner appears in a photo before they can share it.

According to EducationHQ News, domestic violence lawyer Maneesha Prakash says this mindset is part of a troubling shift. “They think it’s normal. They think it’s part of somebody caring about them,” she explains. “That leads to toxic relationships and all the flow-on effects.” The problem, Prakash notes, is that many young people no longer recognize the red flags. They’ve been socialized to see surveillance as love and protection.

These behaviors fall under tech-based coercive control—a pattern of manipulation, domination, and isolation that often escalates over time. While not always accompanied by physical violence, it can be just as damaging.

The Global Rise of Tech-Facilitated Abuse

Australia is not alone in grappling with this issue. According to Victoria Police, technology-facilitated abuse reports in the state have risen 650% in just five years. In the UK, the Office for National Statistics found that a third of women aged 18 to 24 had experienced some form of controlling behavior by a partner. In the United States, the National Domestic Violence Hotline has warned that digital abuse is now one of the most commonly reported concerns, with survivors citing GPS tracking, account takeovers, and constant surveillance through shared devices.

As eSafety Commissioner Julie Inman Grant puts it, “Technology can make coercive control feel normal, because it’s such a big part of young peoples’ lives” [via ACS]. She warns that while location sharing may begin as a mutual decision, it can rapidly become a tool of control, fear, and isolation. “The thing that’s so insidious,” she says, “is that a very determined predator can always exploit the loopholes.”

From Apps to Abuse: How Everyday Technology Becomes a Weapon

Perpetrators of coercive control increasingly exploit innocuous devices: smart home systems, shared calendars, even pet-feeders with tracking capabilities. In one case cited by the eSafety Commissioner, a woman’s ex-partner used her electronic cat feeder to monitor her movements inside her home.

Griffith University researcher María Atiénzar Prieto’s findings support this. Her study revealed that many young people are introduced to location-sharing apps by well-meaning parents—a dynamic that normalizes surveillance long before romantic relationships begin. She explained that participants described being monitored from a young age ‘for safety,’ but that expectation transferred to later relationships. It becomes the perfect tool for perpetrators of domestic violence.

This was tragically illustrated in the 2023 murder of Australian woman Lilie James, whose killer used Snap Maps to track her movements. The behavior, the court heard, had been excused as coming from “a place of love.”

What Needs to Change: Education, Awareness, and Digital Boundaries

The eSafety Commission has urged schools, parents, and tech companies to act. Their recommendations include modeling respectful digital behavior, teaching young people about consent and boundaries, and creating safer app environments through design-level safeguards.

Ashton Wood, CEO of DV Safe Phone, believes practical solutions are critical. His organization provides free, untraceable phones to survivors of domestic abuse. He explained that they see lots around technology-facilitated abuse and the only real way to escape it is to start fresh—with a phone the abuser doesn’t even know exists. DV Safe Phone has distributed more than 12,000 secure devices through shelters and police stations across Australia.

While Queensland has pledged to criminalize coercive control following the murder of Hannah Clarke and her children, similar legislative efforts are gaining traction globally. In the UK, coercive control has been a criminal offense since 2015, and Ireland followed suit in 2019. However, tech-specific legislation remains limited.

Inman Grant stressed the need for cultural change, explaining that it’s not about saying couples can’t share their locations. It’s about removing the expectation to monitor a partner’s every move. That’s not safety—it’s control.

Featured image: Phone tracking and coercive control. Source: Yuliia / Adobe Stock.

Too Young to Be a Victim? Calls Grow to Change Domestic Abuse Laws for Under-16s

By
Samara Knight
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abuse in teenage relationships

Lucy was only 13 years old when she met her first serious boyfriend online. The BBC reports that what began as a fast-moving romance soon spiraled into coercive control, isolation, and abuse. Lucy’s experience highlights a deeply concerning issue: despite clear patterns of domestic abuse, the law currently does not recognize such relationships as domestic abuse when the victim is under 16.

While abusive partners can be charged with other crimes, campaigners argue this legal gap fails to acknowledge the specific dynamics of coercive control and psychological harm experienced by younger teenagers. Lucy’s story is far from isolated. Rising numbers of young people are reporting similar experiences, yet remain legally unprotected under existing domestic abuse legislation.

Social Media, Online Misogyny, and the Rise of Teenage Coercion

Charities and support organizations warn that the digital age is fuelling a dangerous new wave of domestic abuse in teenage relationships. Social media platforms, pornography, and online influencers are normalizing controlling and violent behaviors, turning them into templates for young boys to assert dominance in relationships.

Many young men are being exposed to aggressive, misogynistic content online, often before they fully understand what healthy relationships look like. Experts warn that this exposure radicalizes their views on women and normalizes controlling behavior. For girls like Lucy, these influences manifest in real-world consequences—location tracking apps, constant surveillance, and threats disguised as concern for their safety.

“If people would message me and I was at school, he would message them back and then delete the chats, so I couldn’t see it,” Lucy explained [via The BBC]. “I thought it was normal, because he was my first proper boyfriend.”

The situation is so concerning that, as part of the UK’s new Online Safety Act, Ofcom has introduced child safety rules coming into force this July. These measures aim to limit children’s exposure to harmful content, but campaigners argue that without legal reform and direct education, the damage is already being done.

Currently, the UK legal framework defines domestic abuse as occurring only when both victim and perpetrator are over 16. This leaves thousands of younger victims invisible in the eyes of the law. Although criminal charges for assault or harassment may apply, the relational dynamics of coercive control are often overlooked, and victims miss out on specialized support services designed for domestic abuse survivors.

High-profile cases like the tragic murder of 15-year-old Holly Newton by her controlling ex-boyfriend have prompted parliamentary discussions about whether the age threshold should be lowered. Gloucestershire Police, in collaboration with the Home Office, is now piloting a project to gather evidence that could support changing the legal definition of domestic abuse to include younger victims.

Campaigners stress that without such recognition, patterns of coercive control are misclassified as isolated incidents or dismissed as typical teenage behaviour, leaving victims without the help they need to break free.

Education and Prevention: The Key to Breaking the Cycle

While legal reform is critical, experts also highlight the urgent need for early intervention and education. Teaching young people about healthy relationships and helping them recognize coercive control before it escalates could be vital in preventing abuse in teenage relationships.

Debbie Beadle, head of the charity FearFree, advocates for open conversations between parents, educators, and children. She warns that avoiding these topics out of discomfort only increases the risk of young people falling prey to controlling and abusive partners.

Lucy herself believes that if she had been better informed about the signs of domestic abuse, she might have recognized what was happening sooner. Her experience highlights that abuse can happen at any age, and acknowledging this reality is the first step toward protecting vulnerable young people.

Featured image: Abuse in teenage relationships. Source: miss irine / Adobe Stock.

The Lies That Linger: How Abuse Victims Internalize Harmful Beliefs

By
Samara Knight
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how abuse victims internalize lies

Leaving an abusive relationship means walking away from the person—but not always from the damage left behind. One of the most lasting effects of abuse isn’t just the mistreatment itself, but the damaging beliefs you begin to hold about yourself because of it. Long after the abuse ends, many survivors remain trapped by the lies they were told—and even more painfully, by the lies they started believing about themselves.

These aren’t fleeting words; they become deeply ingrained beliefs that shape how survivors view their self-worth, their future, and what they believe they deserve.

The Lie That You Are to Blame

Abuse often flourishes in confusion and secrecy. One of the most damaging tactics abusers use is convincing their partner that they are the problem. Through relentless gaslighting, manipulation, and criticism, many victims internalize the belief that the abuse was their own fault.

One survivor recalled, “I used to think it was my fault—that I needed to be the bigger person, detach from my ego. That maybe when he told me I was grandiose, he was right. That I needed to communicate better, and if I just said things right, he’d understand.”

Another shared, “I remember thinking (I still do), ‘Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I’m remembering it wrong. Maybe I’m exaggerating.’ Makes you go back thinking you were being ridiculous, and the wheel resets.”

Even after finding freedom, these doubts continue. Survivors can remain caught in a painful mental loop, second-guessing their memories, doubting their decisions, and questioning whether they even have the right to feel angry.

The Lie That You’re Not Good Enough

When someone you love repeatedly tells you that you’re unlovable, worthless, or too much to handle, those words eventually take root. This is how abuse victims internalize lies about their worth, often walking away from the relationship carrying a shattered self-image shaped by years of humiliation and belittlement.

“My ex told me, ‘You’re a joke. You’re a kindergartner. Are you incompetent?’” one woman shared. “To our kids he said, ‘Your mother can’t understand how dumb she is.’ My self-esteem has been shattered.”

One male victim wrote, “She said, you’re a f*cking mad anxiety tablet junky. You’re a low-life no-mark. You’re gullible and naive. If we split up, you’ll be a miserable sad man. You’re a sad old bastard with no drive.”

Even after leaving the abusive situation, these cruel words linger. Many survivors struggle to believe they deserve love, happiness, or peace. And because the abuse was so personal and targeted, the lies often feel more believable than the truth.

The Lie That You’re Overreacting

A common pattern in abusive relationships is the constant accusation that the victim is “too sensitive” or “making a fuss over nothing.” This repeated dismissal of feelings leads many victims to distrust their own emotions—a key way that abuse victims internalize lies about their emotional responses.

“When I challenged his assumptions, he told me I didn’t know what I was talking about. That I was totally unreasonable, that I used convoluted, unnecessary arguments,” one survivor recalled. “He said we’re in a relationship, not a competition of intellect.”

Another added, “When other people praised me and I’d acknowledge it, he’d call me grandiose. Then he’d tell me I thought too highly of myself for someone who’s never done anything.”

Over time, survivors learn to silence their own needs and emotions—not because they lack clarity, but because they were conditioned to believe that expressing themselves would only lead to criticism and mockery.

The Lie That Real Love is Meant to Hurt

For many survivors, chaotic and conditional love was all they knew growing up. When they enter abusive relationships, this emotional turmoil feels strangely familiar. Pain becomes synonymous with love. Cruelty is followed by grand apologies and gifts, creating a damaging emotional cycle.

“It hurts because their perception isn’t true. But at the time it’s confusing. They say they love me, but why do they say such things?” one person wrote. “It must be true.”

Another said, “He tore down everything that made me who I am—until I didn’t even know what I really liked anymore. I used to hesitate when my new partner asked what I’d like to do, and I’d say, ‘Not sure.’ Because I didn’t know.”

When so-called love has long been entangled with fear, control, or punishment, it takes time—and often professional support—to separate the two. Part of healing is learning what healthy, reciprocal love truly feels like.

The Lie That You’ll Never Recover

Perhaps the most damaging belief abuse plants is that healing is out of reach. After years of being told they’re broken, difficult, or destined to fail, many survivors believe they’ll never overcome the damage—or be worthy of happiness again.

“I wasn’t allowed any independence or attempts to further my education,” one person shared. “I supported him in every way—drove him to work, taught him to drive, helped him build a career. But when I tried to learn or grow, I was told I wasn’t smart enough. That it was selfish.”

Another echoed, “He made me believe I’d never succeed. That I’d drop out again. That everything I tried was a waste of time. I still hear him telling me I’ll fail.”

These internalized lies can quietly shape the course of a survivor’s life if left unchallenged. But each small act of reclaiming independence—each boundary set and each step forward—weakens those lies and helps survivors rediscover their resilience.

Reclaiming the Truth

One of the hardest parts of recovery is letting go of the lies that once felt like truth. It’s not just about rejecting what the abuser said—it’s about rebuilding the pieces of your identity that were systematically broken down.

This process takes time, support, and a willingness to sit with discomfort while you question old beliefs. Above all, it takes self-compassion—for the version of you that didn’t know better and the version now bravely learning to live differently.

As one survivor put it, “At least now he’s just a weaker voice in my head.”

And another affirmed, “I have so much to give. Never, ever again in my life will I be treated as if I am nothing.”

Survivors don’t just walk away from abuse—they carry the hidden scars of every lie they were told and believed. But with every truth reclaimed, every boundary drawn, and every act of self-kindness, those lies lose their hold. You are not defined by what they said. You are defined by what you’re becoming.

Featured image: Unpacking the lies of abuse. Source: Vilius / Adobe Stock.

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

Power, Fame, and Coercive Control: Inside the Trial of Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs

By
Samara Knight
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Diddy and coercive control

The high-profile sex trafficking trial of music mogul Sean “Diddy” Combs began this week in New York, drawing intense public scrutiny as jurors heard shocking allegations of coercion, abuse, and the calculated use of power to dominate and control women. While the term “coercive control” is not officially being used in court—due to legal limitations in New York—the disturbing patterns described by witnesses and prosecutors align closely with this form of psychological abuse.

According to USA Today, despite the judge’s decision to bar expert testimony explicitly mentioning “coercive control,” the prosecution is determined to demonstrate how Mr. Combs used his wealth, fame, and influence to exert control over his alleged victims in ways that go far beyond physical violence.

A Pattern of Coercion Hidden Behind Celebrity Glamour

According to RTE, Prosecutor Emily Johnson told jurors that Mr. Combs used violence, threats, and the looming power of his celebrity status to silence and dominate those around him. RTE reports that Ms. Johnson described the case as “not about a celebrity’s private sexual preferences,” but rather about behavior that was “coercive and criminal.”

She also detailed how Combs weaponized threats of reputational ruin to control women he abused for years, ensuring their silence and submission through fear of public humiliation and career destruction.

One of the most disturbing allegations centers around Combs’ former girlfriend, singer Cassie Ventura. Prosecutors claim he not only physically abused her but also imposed impossible emotional and psychological demands, isolating and controlling her life behind the scenes of their public relationship.

Video footage presented in court showed Combs chasing Ms. Ventura through hotel hallways in a towel, striking her during the pursuit. RTE reports that a former police officer said when he responded to a distress call that night, Combs attempted to bribe him, allegedly saying, “Don’t tell nobody.”

While the courtroom may not formally use the term, what’s unfolding reflects classic signs of coercive control—a sustained campaign of domination through intimidation, isolation, and control of a victim’s behavior and freedom.

Why ‘Coercive Control’ Isn’t on Trial—But Should Be

As USA Today previously reported, Judge Arun Subramanian ruled earlier this year that while expert testimony about coping strategies for victims is allowed, the specific term “coercive control” cannot be introduced in court. This is largely because New York has yet to adopt legal statutes recognizing coercive control as a distinct form of domestic abuse, despite its widespread psychological impact and its recognition in several other U.S. states, as well as the United Kingdom, Ireland, and Australia.

Experts like psychologist Lisa Fontes, author of Invisible Chains, argue that Combs’ wealth and influence created an environment ripe for coercion, allowing him to use his status to manipulate and dominate others. Fontes explained that coercive control isn’t always visible through physical violence; it often manifests through isolation, financial manipulation, and relentless emotional abuse—tactics reportedly used by Combs for years.

Defense Strategy: Framing Abuse as ‘Toxic Love’

While prosecutors lay out a case built on patterns of coercion and dominance, Combs’ defense team paints a very different picture. Attorney Teny Geragos described Combs’ past relationships as complicated but consensual, telling jurors the case is about “love, jealousy, and money,” not criminal activity.

Geragos admitted that some of Combs’ behavior amounted to domestic violence but argued that this does not equate to the racketeering and sex trafficking charges he faces. According to RTE, she insisted, “Being a willing participant in your own sex life is not sex trafficking,” dismissing claims that Combs used coercion to force women into unwanted situations.

Yet, critics argue that this defense sidesteps the nuanced reality of coercive control—that abuse isn’t always about force, but about eroding a person’s autonomy through sustained psychological pressure.

A Trial That Could Redefine Power and Accountability

If convicted, Combs faces the possibility of spending the rest of his life in prison. The proceedings, expected to last up to 10 weeks, could set a precedent in how society views the intersection of wealth, power, and abuse.

While the legal system in New York may not formally recognize coercive control as a criminal offense, the testimonies and evidence emerging from this trial offer a stark reminder: coercion doesn’t always leave physical scars, but its psychological wounds can last a lifetime.

As the case continues, survivors and advocates hope it will spark broader conversations about the need to update legal frameworks to include coercive control as a recognized and punishable form of abuse.

For now, the world watches as one of the most influential figures in music faces the consequences of years of alleged abuse hidden behind fame, fortune, and power.

Featured image: Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs. Source: Nikeush / CC by SA 4.0.

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