Coercive Control and Trauma Bond – My Story

I had a full, busy life. I loved my career. I had a beautiful home and two wonderful children. I had been married for (timeframe removed by Moderator) years to a good man — someone who gave me stability, support, and unwavering friendship. But in the bedroom, we were completely mismatched. I tried to suppress my desires for years, tried to compromise, but eventually, I couldn’t live a half-truth anymore. When our marriage ended, I didn’t leave because I stopped loving him — I left because I finally admitted I needed to live fully, not in pieces. Then I met him. We met on a dating site. My husband and I had agreed to explore options independently, so I joined without guilt — curious but cautious.
I excitedly filtered through the messages and eventually settled on one. We met (location removed by Moderator). My heart was racing while we talked — he was leaning casually against a tree, flashing a cheeky, confident smile that instantly disarmed me. I barely remember what he said — I was too busy trying to hide the fact that my body was already responding to his presence. There was chemistry — fast and undeniable. I felt like I had known him forever. And when he kissed me goodbye, I knew: this wasn’t just going to be an ordinary affair. Years passed and we spoke constantly — texting, calling, meeting in hotel rooms and car parks. He told me he had been in an abusive marriage. That his ex-wife had damaged him. He played the role of the broken victim so well, and I stepped in like I always do: nurturing, loyal, ready to fix everything for him. He made me feel alive — desired in a way I had never experienced. He showered me with compliments and made me feel like I was the only one for him. I was sexually inexperienced, but he was patient. He taught me, teased me, pushed my boundaries. I let him. I craved pleasing him. Our dynamic was electric — he insisted I call him (name removed by Moderator), and he named me his (name removed by Moderator). The sex was intense, rough, beautiful, addictive. He made me feel like I was everything. And I believed it. I still remember the moment I fell for him completely. We were in a(location removed by Moderator). He looked down at me and told me, (communication removed by Moderator) I should have felt objectified, but in that moment, it felt like praise. Like he saw me. I handed over every part of myself that night — my trust, my love, my submission — and let him do things I would never want anyone else to experience, because he wanted it. I still have traumatic flash backs from that night. I found out he was still fully married. Eventually, his wife kicked him out — and I was there for him. I cooked for him, stayed over when I could, and held him through his pain. He gave me keys to his place. I imagined a life with him. I truly believed he wanted the same deep down, as he told me I was the kindest person and nothing like his ex. I desperately held on to the bare minimum of affection he so rarely scattered my way — believing it was a grand gesture. Small things, like a kiss before bed or a morning cup of tea. At home, it was tense and awkward. I was stuck between two lives, and my guilt pushed me even further into the arms of the man who felt like my escape. But then he started pulling away. Slowly at first. Then cruelly. He began demanding more from me sexually — saying it wasn’t worth being with me if I didn’t do what he wanted. Most nights, I just wanted connection. To lie on the sofa and watch a film with someone I loved. But to him, that wasn’t enough. One of the many low points was when he demanded we have a threesome. I had held my ground for (timeframe removed by Moderator) and refused. That was until he said he was leaving because I wasn’t giving him what he needed. (timeframe removed by Moderator) I was coerced into sleeping with a sex worker for him. I kept trying to be what he wanted. I changed who I was, shut off parts of myself, gave more than I had. I started to spiral and was consumed by hate for what I had done. He told me I was too intense. Too emotional. That he couldn’t love me, and this was never a relationship — not after (timeframe removed by Moderator) years. That I should start seeing other men. It shattered me to know he was seeing others, and why he could never love me. All the while, he told me no one would ever be as good as him – I believed him.

(specific incident removed by Moderator)

His mental health and hidden substance use issues made everything harder. I felt as if I was going mad, until I tracked down his ex-wife through social media. She broke down as I described the man I had been seeing. (detail removed by Moderator) She thanked me for validating everything she had doubted herself for – saying that she had no evidence and no one would have believed her. (detail removed by Moderator) I walked away with a newfound strength to leave. When the news broke, he stayed calm towards me. He said she was bitter and angry. How could I listen to someone who had been such a monster to him and cheated on him? He made me feel guilt like never before — and that was the first time he cried to get his way. I was hooked and stayed, because I thought I was different. As he had always told me. But I wasn’t.
Things went from bad to worse — he convinced me to upload videos and pictures of myself and him on a website he had introduced me to. He loved the thought of me being objectified and encouraged me to post daily to gain followers. I didn’t care about them — the only thing I cared about was getting a like from him. Knowing I was his property made him happy, and that’s what drove me — his approval. I hated everything about it, but he, as always, wanted more and asked me to find another girl to join us through forums. I felt sick, but did as I was told.
Soon, I began isolating myself from my friends and family. I stopped going out. I made reckless choices to please him, to bring him happiness. I gave him all my energy, even when I had none left for myself. And when he discarded me, again and again, I convinced myself I needed him — and took him back, because he was always so willing. I thought it meant he loved me. That the connection we had, our insane chemistry, the twin-flame intensity — would win out in the end.
It didn’t — it just destroyed me.
(detail removed by Moderator) my ex husband called him to confront him – he admitted everything that he had done telling him that he had.
It’s been almost (timeframe removed by Moderator) now. I’ve worked hard to rebuild my life. I’ve moved out and bought my own place, gotten a new job, started healing properly with the help of my amazing therapist, and have recently reached out to be considered for group sessions with other women who have experienced emotional abuse in relationships. I’m still in the process — but I’m no longer fully broken. I’m no longer drowning in a fantasy that never was. (timeframe removed by Moderator) ago, I messaged him. I thought clearing the air might bring me peace. I genuinely thought we could be friends. He replied to say he’s moved on and that he’s been in a relationship for (timeframe removed by Moderator) months and is in love — something he never felt for me.
I told him I was happy for him. He said my happiness made him (communication removed by Moderator) I suppose that was his way of asking for forgiveness without actually saying sorry. He then went on to talk about our intimate pictures and videos we had shared, and suggested I go back on — I guess to take me back, to weaken me, to make me miss him. It worked, and I did. He liked my new posts and commented (detail removed by Moderator). I still have no idea why I did it, and I hate myself for it.
And yet, here I am — wondering what she has that I didn’t. Wondering how he could move on so quickly without me after everything we shared. He told me he had changed, and that he would never cheat on her, that he was in a nice normal relationship – all the whilst happy to suggest we communicate on the website and that I share pictures as people would love it — he refused to send me pictures of himself, as he deemed that unfaithful. He continued to tell me how tempted he was and how hard I was making it for him. I cut it off after (timeframe removed by Moderator) days of heightened anxiety and self-hate.
I still think about him. Some days, he crosses my mind for a moment. Other days, it’s like he’s still breathing beneath my skin.
But I know this:;
I don’t believe he’s changed — and it’s unlikely he ever will. I know now that I could never want that again for myself, or for anyone.
I still have triggers that show up during my day, moments where the past grabs me unexpectedly. (timeframe removed by Moderator) ago was one of those days. I reached out to him. I begged him to choose me instead of her. I hate that I did that. I know better now, but trauma sometimes tricks us into forgetting what we’ve already learned — into romanticising and fantasising about reality when it’s just too hard.
When he told me he had met someone new, I wasn’t just heartbroken that I’d been replaced — I was scared. Scared for her. Scared because I couldn’t bear the thought of another woman enduring the same pain I did, so I tried to win him back. He destroyed his ex-wife. He destroyed me. She warned me. She begged me to save myself. But I believed I could save him — just like this new woman probably does, seeing only the good in him. It’s hard not to, when you’re captivated by a broken soul you feel you can heal. It’s a trauma bond that will make her feel special. He told me she picked him up at his lowest, and he gave her his heart — not because he’s changed, but because he craves normality. Calm. He craves a sense of peace and feeling “good.” Just like when he married his ex-wife or paid for my dinner because it felt like the “right thing to do”, this is just another cycle. Another attempt to feel better by chasing something he can’t sustain.
He’s not building something new — he’s running from what makes him whole. Because facing that would mean facing the dark parts of himself, which he can’t — and never could. Hiding behind a fractured life. If he truly loved her, he would let her go. Not because she isn’t worthy — but because she deserves a kind of love he is not capable of giving, however hard he tries. Because one day, she might not be as lucky as we were. One day, she may not survive the pain.
Eventually, he will revert. He always does — that’s proven. It’s the part that brings him comfort, control, seduction, excitement — the thrill of something new. It’s where he feels most at home. I know him better than anyone ever will, as I relentlessly forced him to look deeper. The truth is: he can’t help himself. Because that’s where he feels the most seen and congruent with himself.
I accepted and celebrated him fully, but he hated what I saw in him — the parts he tried so hard to push away. I would have walked alongside him and guided him in any direction he wanted to take — to learn together, so he could feel whole and love the duality of himself in a healthy way. But he refused.
I wish he had faced his anxiety and his pain in a healthy way. But his crying on the phone proved to me he hadn’t. I wish he had taken time alone, done the hard work of looking inward — really looking — so he could understand the roots of his coercive, n**********c, and emotionally abusive behaviour. To live alongside it, and heal. But he didn’t. Instead, he ran into the arms of another woman to heal his pain, and do what he does best — convince himself he’s happy, not just superficially.
The hardest part of it all was realising it was never really about me — and it was never about his ex-wife. And I know it’s certainly not going to be about his new partner either.
This pattern lives in him — not in the women he targets. “The weak ones,” as he once jokingly told me. He preys on the ones that masquerade behind being strong, confident women who have it together. The ones he enjoys breaking down — to need him. So they hang onto his every word, too scared to leave.
He will forever relish being the main character in my truth and this writing — inevitably, it will feed into his ego, to prove I’m an emotional drain.
Every day, I’m getting stronger.
One day, he’ll be just a memory.
Just a man who once touched my body and shattered my heart.
But most importantly, a reminder to never lose myself again.