When the bond was hurting you

An abusive relationship almost never begins with a blow. It begins with charm, intensity and promises. That first phase of idealisation even has a name, love bombing: overwhelming attention, «you're what I always looked for», future plans in a hurry. It hooks precisely because it's wonderful. And that's why, when the control arrives —jealousy disguised as love, the criticism that keeps switching you off, isolation from your people, walking on eggshells—, you're already inside and it's hard to see.

It's not «difficult love» or «bad luck with the other's character». It has a technical name.

During the relationship

A roller coaster: wonderful moments followed by coldness, contempt or fear. You live watching the other's mood, measuring every word so as not to «provoke». You doubt your memory and your perception («did I misunderstand?, am I the problem?»). You feel guilty about almost everything. And, at the same time, you cling to the good version of that person, to the hope that whoever they were at the start comes back. That hope isn't naivety: it's what the system uses to hold on to you.

When it ends

A confusing and exhausting mix: relief and, at the same time, enormous pain, emptiness and a «craving» for that person. Doubts assail you («what if I was wrong?, what if I was the guilty one?»). It's common for the other person to reappear with promises, gifts or pity —what's called hoovering, «vacuuming» you back— just when you were starting to breathe. Missing whoever hurt you doesn't make you weak or incoherent: it has a chemical and psychological explanation you'll see in the coming chapters.

Over time

The pain stops being constant and comes in waves, more and more spaced out. The hypervigilance goes down little by little. Things of yours that you'd lost come back: your humour, your hobbies, people you'd been letting slip. You start to trust your judgement again. Healing isn't forgetting or «forgive and move on»: it's the memory ceasing to rule your present.

The internalised voice. After months or years of criticism, that voice stays inside: you keep hearing «you're worthless», «no one will put up with you», «it's your fault», even though the person is no longer there. Recognising it as a learned voice (not as the truth) is the first step to turning down its volume.

Perhaps the cruellest thing about abuse is that it creates an intense bond with whoever harms you. It has a name: traumatic bond (Patrick Carnes, The Betrayal Bond). It forms precisely through the mix of harm and relief repeated over time: the stronger the contrast between the fear and the «forgiveness», the stronger the bond.

These thoughts are common during and after. On the left, what the mind repeats; on the right, a truth to hold you up. Come back to this page whenever you need it.

After prolonged abuse, after-effects can remain. Recognising them isn't labelling yourself or resigning yourself: it's understanding why what happens to you happens, in order to treat it with care and with help.

In practice it can appear as: hypervigilance, anxiety, insomnia or nightmares, intrusive memories or flashbacks, avoiding places or people that recall what you lived, guilt and shame, a sense of not knowing who you are, difficulty trusting or setting limits, and waves of sadness or anger that seem to come from nowhere. All of this can be worked on and improves, especially with specialised support. They're wounds in the process of closing, not your new identity.

Abuse thrives in silence and shame. Knowing it also happens to people we admire breaks the «it only happens to me». Several public figures have told, in their own words, of having survived abusive relationships:

• Tina Turner recounted in her memoirs years of mistreatment by Ike Turner before rebuilding her life and career.
• Rihanna spoke publicly about the assault she suffered in 2009 and how hard the process afterwards was.
• Evan Rachel Wood publicly denounced years of abuse and manipulation in a relationship, and pushed for laws to protect other victims.
• FKA twigs described the control and fear she lived in a relationship, recalling that «it can happen to anyone».
• Pamela Anderson has recounted experiences of violence in relationships throughout her life.

Leaving is a process, and the moment of leaving can be the riskiest, especially if there's violence: that's why safety comes first. If that's your case, call 016 before acting — they help you plan it with a clear head.

Steps that usually help (at your own pace, not all at once):

• Name it. Calling things by their name («this is abuse») breaks the fog of gaslighting.
• Break the isolation. Abuse separates you from your people. Reconnect with a trusted person, even if only to tell them.
• Don't wait for their «closure». Whoever hurt you will rarely give you the explanation or forgiveness you seek. You give yourself the closure.
• No contact (or the bare minimum if there are children). Each contact reactivates the traumatic bond.
• Lean on resources. 016, social services, a lawyer, a psychologist specialised in trauma. You don't have to do it alone.

The psychiatrist Judith Herman described trauma recovery in three stages. They're not rigid steps —they overlap— but they serve you as a map:

1. Safety. First, feeling safe: body, home, routines, calming the alarm system. Without this, the rest doesn't hold.
2. Grief and memory. Putting in order what happened and grieving what was lost — including the relationship you thought you had.
3. Reconnection. Returning to life, to healthy bonds and, above all, to yourself.

Seek help specialised in trauma. Approaches like EMDR or trauma-focused therapies have shown good results in processing this kind of wound. Asking for help isn't a failure or a luxury: it's the fastest and safest way to heal, and it saves you years of doing it blindly.

Validating isn't saying «you did everything right». It's recognising that what you feel makes sense given what you lived. Read this to yourself slowly, out loud if you can:

You got out, or you're trying to, of something designed so you wouldn't get out. That's not weakness: it's one of the bravest things a person will do. The path has waves, relapses and grey days, and even so it moves forward. You don't have to forgive anyone to heal. You don't have to understand everything. You just have to start treating yourself as someone who matters — because you matter.

© EmotionsDev · Jordi Podeschva — Outreach and support, not therapy or diagnosis.