When controlling and manipulative behavior is justified and weaponized using psychology.

[Content Warning: This story contains descriptions of psychological abuse, coercive control, reproductive coercion, and child manipulation.]

Each year, millions of people find themselves trapped in relationships defined by coercive control – a pattern of behavior that strips away autonomy through isolation, manipulation, and psychological abuse. While physical violence leaves visible bruises, coercive control often remains hidden behind closed doors, justified through psychology, and weaponized through professional authority. And 45% of those in coercive controlling behaviors experience no physical violence. Physical violence or not, coercive control is illegal in many countries and formal laws explicitly outlawing these set of behaviors are increasingly appearing in states across the USA.

This is Marguerite’s story – one that mirrors countless others. In sharing it, we hope to illuminate the subtle warning signs that often go unrecognized, especially when abuse comes wrapped in the language of healing and mental health. According to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, abusers who work in mental health fields pose a unique danger, as they can leverage their professional knowledge to normalize controlling behavior and discredit their victims’ experiences.

The Early Warning Signs

Meeting in the Support Group

Marguerite didn’t realize she was being drawn into something until she was already deep inside it. Looking back, she could see how it happened – not in dramatic moments, but in small choices that seemed reasonable at the time.

Max was the support group facilitator who always stayed late to help stack chairs. He didn’t flirt. He just listened, remembered things, and asked thoughtful questions. After three months of weekly sessions, their conversations naturally extended into the parking lot, followed by brief coffee breaks.

“It’s so refreshing to talk with someone who really gets it,” he said one evening, stirring his coffee. “Most people don’t understand the depth of human experience the way we do.”

Crossing Professional Boundaries

Their relationship evolved through shared moments of vulnerability. Max mentioned his childhood trauma in group sessions, but in private, he shared deeper struggles with Marguerite. How he sometimes woke up screaming. How certain sounds could send him into a panic.

“I’ve never told anyone this before,” he’d say, his voice soft and uncertain. “But you have such natural wisdom. You help me feel safe.”

Max is crossing a boundary here. While only about 5% of psychotherapists offend, they are usually quite active and do a lot of damage to their victims. While it might seem harmless to go out to coffee with a therapist, it seldom is.

Max is in a position of authority over Marguerite, which makes this relationship unethical and wrong. Plus, Max shares details about his personal history that he hasn’t shared with the group, making Marguerite feel “special.” This is the grooming behavior of a predator.

Initial Red Flags

Max suggested where to have coffee, picked the table, and picked her seat. She refused when he offered her pastry, but when he returns to the table, he has two treats that she “just has to try.”

Max is making all of the decisions, but Marguerite can’t seem to refuse. Even when she does, he ignores her. This is a bad sign.

The Manipulation Begins

Isolation Tactics

Max texted her several times the next day for no reason in particular. Marguerite thought about him during the day, wondering if he was okay. She’d send check-in texts when he mentioned having a particularly bad night. It felt good to be needed and trusted with someone’s deeper truth. She felt lucky that this “great guy” was interested in her.

Meanwhile, Max was working behind the scenes to try to “improve the look” of his unethical moves and professional boundary violations. First, he told her that he had switched her to a different support group. Then, he recommended a colleague for her individual therapy needs. “I want to be free to be there for you completely,” he explained. “Not as a professional, but as a partner so we can explore our connection.” The colleague was no accident. He was one of Max’s closest friends.

Emotional Leverage

Marguerite was disoriented, ending up in a support group of new strangers and a new therapist. She seemed to turn to Max more to quell her anxiety, and he was there with specific techniques and suggestions.

But she had also unconsciously adapted to Max’s emotional state and gradually stopped being as active in seeing family and friends because it “triggered him” to worry about her driving on her own.

She thought about how she’d declined Karen’s invitation to their annual sisters’ weekend because Max had explained how abandonment triggers from his childhood made extended separations unbearable. She’d stopped wearing certain perfumes because scents could trigger his panic attacks. She’d also learned to watch his breathing patterns for signs of distress.

Escalating Control

Financial Control

The financial entanglement happened just as naturally. Max’s private practice was struggling – the economy, the pandemic, various factors beyond his control. He had so much wisdom to share, but marketing wasn’t his strength. Marguerite had good business sense. “You’re so good at this,” he’d say, watching her work on his website. “Nobody else has ever supported me this way.”

He told her it would be “crazy” not to pool their money. It made perfect sense to help him rebuild his practice and invest in their shared future.

But sometimes, when she suggested new approaches or questioned his decisions, his vulnerability would twist into something else. “I thought you understood trauma,” he’d say, his voice tight with disappointment. “But you’re acting just like my ex – trying to control everything, rejecting my feedback.”

Reproductive Coercion

The control crept into more intimate spaces, too. Max had opinions about her birth control – and articles he found about how it changed a woman’s personality. He’d mention it during vulnerable moments after sharing his own pain.

“I can feel it. You’re not the same. You’re more anxious, irritated, moody, depressed. If you are wondering why we fight so much, that’s it,” he’d whisper in the dark. “And research says you’re less tuned into my sexiness,” he said seductively. Marguerite tried to tell him she had been on the pill since they met, but he wouldn’t listen. He insisted that he’d take over many of her errands, and he “just forgot” to pick up her pills repeatedly. When she picked them up on her own, he was furious. She’d never seen him so angry and was confused why. But she never wanted to see him like that again and stopped advocating for her birth control method and switched to foam.

Max began to rape her in her sleep. He told her he just “had to have her.” Of course, she was unprotected. She knew she hadn’t consented, but she loved him, and she told herself it was flattering that someone felt so passionately toward her.

Marriage and Pregnancy

When Marguerite got pregnant, Max’s response was complicated – a mix of joy and accusation. “See? Your body knew what it needed. Fighting against nature with those pills was disrupting your wisdom.” He paused, voice trembling slightly. “You’ll keep it, won’t you?”

She fought him for a while but ultimately gave in. It seemed like a betrayal to want an abortion when she was in a “good relationship.” He insisted that she give up work because, he claimed, this could turn into a “high risk pregnancy.” She didn’t know why he kept insisting, but his practice was doing better so she agreed.

The wedding was small and rushed. “Just us,” Max insisted. “Too many people would be too overwhelming to your nervous system right now.” Marguerite’s sister wasn’t invited – she’d been “horribly negative about their relationship dynamic.” She’d lost touch with most of her friends, and her sister’s calls went to voicemail more often than not. What did it matter if the wedding was small?

Moving In Together

Early on, he urged her to give up her apartment and move in with him. Then he secretly went house-hunting and showed up one day with the “perfect house” for us. Marguerite was shocked. They had never talked about owning a house. The home purchase became another way for Max to tighten his grip. While Marguerite’s name was on the mortgage, it was left off the deed. “I need the house in my name as I’m the one who needs assets for business credit.”

He began to tap into her savings to keep his practice afloat without her permission. But she had Max’s trust, vulnerability, and love. That meant something, didn’t it?

Life After Marriage

Controlling the Household

Nevertheless, there was a growing list of things she had to give up once they moved from “his” apartment into “his” home. Like her cat, Sophie, who’d been with her through college, breakups, and lonely nights. “I’ve put up with my allergies for you,” Max explained, his eyes watering on cue. “But now we have the baby’s health.”

She tried to push back because she had never seen any signs of Max being allergic to her cat, but he claimed he took daily medication to avoid symptoms. His eyes went black when he said that. She grew cold inside and a shiver ran down her spine looking at him speak. She decided to drop it.

She gave Sophie to Karen, trying not to cry as her sister shot her worried looks. “It’s temporary,” Marguerite said, not meeting Karen’s eyes. “Just until we figure things out.”

Sexual Coercion

Three weeks after giving birth, still healing and exhausted, Max started hinting about sex. When she said she wasn’t ready, his face grew tense. “You can work and manage the house,” he’d say, voice thick with accusation. “But you’re withholding intimacy? I’m a faithful man by nature but I can take only so much.”

Financial Abuse Intensifies

By the time their second child arrived, Marguerite was drowning in credit card debt—all in her name because Max insisted she pay for her own “extras.” Those extras included groceries, her clothes, the children’s clothes, and even medical bills. Her savings were now spent. She suggested she get a part-time job, but he said there was time to do this once the children were in school.

Sleep Deprivation and Household Routines

Sleep deprivation became her constant companion, yet Max insisted on specific household routines. His texts would arrive throughout the day: “Will dinner be ready between clients? I need to eat at exactly 6.” If she mentioned sharing domestic responsibilities, his response was always the same – a mix of guilt and gaslighting. He would text her about tasks she needed to complete, items of clothing she owned that he wanted tossed out or given away, and the way he wanted his dinner prepared that night.

She was shocked to see him walking toward her at the mall when she was buying clothes. “I thought I’d surprise you,” he said as he inspected her purchases. “I want to see that dress on you now, so you can take it back if it isn’t flattering…” He said it matter-of-factly. He was the final arbiter. She felt humiliated. They would fight about these things, but it didn’t matter. He pushed so hard to get his way, and his rules kept changing that she finally gave up on most things. She later learned that these fights weren’t about the content, like the dress she bought. They were about Max’s efforts to exert or re-establish control.

She later learned that he had put a tracker on her car. It was the final straw. She demanded they see a therapist.

Attempts at Saving the Marriage

Marguerite had insisted on couples therapy three times during their marriage. Each attempt revealed a different facet of Max’s sophisticated understanding of therapy dynamics, though she wouldn’t recognize the pattern until much later.

First Therapist: Cycles of Attachment

The first therapist was Max’s choice – another colleague from his professional network. Dr. Lillian Martinez specialized in trauma-informed couples work and immediately created a warm, safe environment. During sessions, Max would thoughtfully discuss attachment patterns and generational trauma while genuinely acknowledging his struggles with anxiety. When Marguerite tried to bring up her concerns about his controlling behaviors, Dr. Martinez helped them explore how trauma responses could create cycles of triggering and withdrawal in relationships.

“I’m seeing how both of you are caught in a painful dynamic,” she’d explain, drawing a diagram of their interaction patterns. “Max’s hypervigilance from past trauma meets Marguerite’s tendency to withdraw when feeling pressured.” The framework made so much sense that Marguerite began doubting her own perceptions. Maybe his tracking her location was just attachment anxiety. Maybe her discomfort was just her own avoidance.

Second Therapist: Communication, Trust and Boundaries

Their second attempt came a year later, with a therapist Marguerite found through her insurance. Dr. Roberts had a reputation for being both insightful and practical. He helped them identify their communication breakdowns with remarkable precision, noting how Max’s fear of abandonment and Marguerite’s need for autonomy created escalating cycles of pursuit and distance.

When Marguerite mentioned feeling controlled, Dr. Roberts facilitated nuanced discussions about boundaries and trust. Max would engage deeply, sharing vulnerably about his fears and working to understand her perspective.

“I see both of you working hard to bridge this gap,” Dr. Roberts would observe, “but speaking different emotional languages.” His analysis was sophisticated and compelling – but somehow, session after session, Marguerite’s concrete examples of controlling behavior got reframed into attachment dynamics that needed mutual work.

Third Therapist: Labeling the Abuse

The third therapist – a direct, no-nonsense woman named Dr. Chen – finally saw through the therapeutic smoke screen. In their first session, Max spoke thoughtfully about trauma and attachment, as usual, but Dr. Chen watched Marguerite’s reactions more than his words. It was a blend of fear and outrage. When Marguerite quietly mentioned Max tracking her phone location or questioning her grocery receipts, Dr. Chen’s approach shifted noticeably. After three sessions, she requested to see Marguerite alone.

“What you’re describing isn’t a relationship problem,” Dr. Chen said firmly, sliding a pamphlet across her desk. “It’s a control problem. And your husband’s psychological training makes him particularly dangerous – he’s using therapeutic language to justify abuse.”

Marguerite stared at the pamphlet’s title: “Understanding Coercive Control in Intimate Relationships.” Her hands trembled as she read down the list of warning signs, recognizing Max’s behavior in every bullet point.

Max’s response was measured but final when he learned about the individual session. “Dr. Chen seems to have a very specific lens she’s working through,” he said with professional concern. “I don’t think she’s seeing the complexity of our dynamic.”

But the seed had been planted. For the first time, Marguerite began to see their relationship not as a journey of mutual healing but as a carefully constructed cage built with psychological terms and therapeutic justifications. She also understood something else – how even skilled professionals could miss the control dynamics when they were wrapped in the language of trauma and attachment.

The Performance of Change

After Dr. Chen, Max’s behavior shifted so dramatically that Marguerite began doubting her memory of those therapy sessions. Gone was the cold rage she’d glimpsed in his eyes when she mentioned Dr. Chen’s concerns. Instead, Max seemed genuinely shaken by the experience.

“I’ve been doing a lot of reflection,” he told her one evening, his voice thick with emotion. He’d prepared her favorite meal – something he hadn’t done in years. “The thought that I might be hurting you… it’s making me question everything.” He showed her books he’d been reading about healthy relationships and control patterns. He even suggested she restart her weekly sister dinners with Karen.

The transformation was remarkable. He deleted the tracking app from her phone, telling her that her freedom was more important than his anxiety. He started putting money into their joint account without her having to ask. When she mentioned wanting to take a part-time job, he not only supported the idea but offered to adjust his schedule to help with childcare. “I want you to have your own life,” he said, eyes brimming with sincerity. “I see now how I’ve been suffocating you.”

But there were subtle signs that the change wasn’t genuine. When she did go to dinner with Karen, his supportive texts grew increasingly frequent as the evening progressed. His questions about her potential job seemed focused on which colleagues she’d be working with. And sometimes, when he thought she wasn’t looking, she’d catch him watching her with a calculating expression that chilled her—the mask slipping for just a moment before the caring partner persona snapped back into place.

Three weeks after his transformation began, the old patterns started creeping back. It happened so gradually that she almost missed it: a concerned comment about her driving at night, a suggestion that maybe part-time work would be too stressful with the children’s schedules, and a reminder about his attachment struggles when she mentioned another dinner with Karen. But this time, Marguerite recognized the pattern. She’d seen behind the mask, and no amount of performance could make her unsee it.

The Decision to Divorce

The Slow Awakening

Marguerite’s decision to leave wasn’t sparked by a dramatic incident but by a series of quiet moments that gradually cracked her perception of their life together. It started with her son’s birthday party. Max had insisted on hosting it at their house, though Max Jr. had begged for the local pizza arcade. As she watched Max masterfully entertain the other parents with stories and insights, she caught sight of Max Jr.’s face – that same careful, watchful expression she’d seen in her own reflection countless times.

The boy’s face held the same studied neutrality she’d practiced in therapy sessions, at dinner parties, during Max’s lectures about her “emotional growth.” It was the look of someone constantly reading the room, anticipating needs, and trying to smooth rough edges before they could catch Max’s attention. Her son wasn’t just copying behavior – he was developing the same survival skills she’d honed over the years. He was learning, at seven, to make himself smaller, quieter, and more attuned to another’s moods than his own.

At that moment, watching her son perform this intricate dance of hypervigilance at his own birthday party, something crystallized in Marguerite’s mind. She wasn’t just failing to protect herself – she was teaching her children that love meant walking on eggshells, that safety meant making yourself invisible.

Later that night, after cleaning up alone while Max was “too exhausted” from hosting, she found herself scrolling through old photos on her phone. There she was at her sister’s wedding eight years ago, beaming and confident. Another from her previous job, surrounded by colleagues at a conference. The photos became more sparse after meeting Max, then almost disappeared entirely. The few recent ones showed a woman she barely recognized – smiling, yes, but with tension around her eyes, constantly glancing slightly to the side as if checking for someone’s reaction.

The final shift came during one of Max’s “good” periods. He’d been extra attentive, praising her parenting and suggesting they take a family vacation. But when she mentioned wanting to visit her old friend Christina, who was going through chemotherapy, his response was perfectly crafted: “Of course you should go. I just worry about your emotional capacity right now, given how triggering hospitals are for you.” She heard herself agreeing, nodding along as he explained how prioritizing their family’s stability was the most loving thing she could do for Christina.

That night, unable to sleep, Marguerite found herself writing in the Notes app on her phone, hidden under the covers like a teenager: “He says he worries about my emotional capacity, but I used to handle everyone’s crises. When did I become so fragile? Or did he just convince me I was?” Once asked, the questions couldn’t be unasked.

Getting Her Own Help

She started seeing a therapist secretly during her grocery shopping time, paid for in cash and withdrawing in small amounts. Dr. Mitchell helped her see how she’d been gradually reduced from an independent woman to someone who second-guessed her every decision. Together, they worked on a careful exit plan. Not just the practical details – money, housing, custody – but the emotional preparation for what would come.

She learned the term “coercive control” in relationships, and that changed everything. She began to understand terms like “lovebombing” and “gaslighting.” She was waiting for Max to return to his earlier self, but it was so painful to realize that this, too, was a manipulation to reel her in. She was now dealing with his “real self.” A more explicit version of who he was throughout their marriage: manipulative, self-centered, and mean.

“The hardest thing to accept,” Marguerite shared, “isn’t Max’s abuse. It’s that the loving, caring man I wanted to see again was the mask and this is his real self. Did he ever love me?” That truth haunted her for weeks as she quietly gathered documents, opened a separate bank account, and researched custody laws. She reconnected with her sister, Karen, not with dramatic revelations but with small admissions: “Sometimes I feel like I’m disappearing.” Her sister, to her credit, didn’t say, “I told you so.” She just held her hand and helped her plan.

Leaving Day

The day Marguerite finally left wasn’t marked by dramatic accusations or slammed doors. She waited until Max had a three-day conference in Seattle. She’d arranged everything methodically—movers for the essential furniture, a rental house close to the boys’ school, and legal papers ready to be filed. She even left a carefully worded note, composed with her lawyer’s help, explaining her proposed custody arrangement.

What surprised her most wasn’t the fear or the grief, though both were present. It was the profound relief of making a decision without calculating its emotional impact on someone else. For the first time in years, she was choosing herself, choosing her children’s future over Max’s carefully orchestrated present. It wasn’t freedom yet – the real battles were still to come – but it was a step toward the woman she used to be, the one smiling confidently in those old photos.

Her acquaintances told her how sorry they were to hear they were splitting up. “If the two of you can’t make it, and you’re so great together, (and Max is such an ideal father and husband) what chance do any of us have?”

The Legal Battlefield

When Marguerite filed for divorce, Max’s mask dropped completely. The gentle therapist who once spoke softly about trauma became a legal warrior, weaponizing the very system meant to protect families. He filed motion after motion, each one requiring her to take time off work, find childcare, and scrape together money for her lawyer. Every court date became a performance where he’d appear in a carefully pressed suit, speaking in measured therapeutic language about his “concerns” for her mental state.

“Your Honor,” he’d say, voice steady and professional, “as a mental health provider, I’m deeply worried about my wife’s emotional stability.” He’d reference old therapy sessions, twisting her past vulnerabilities into evidence against her. The colleague he’d once referred her to suddenly appeared as his expert witness, describing her as “unstable” and “resistant to treatment.” Marguerite watched in horror as her private struggles became public record, wielded by the very people she’d once trusted with her healing.

The financial warfare was relentless. His private practice, which had been thriving, suddenly reported mysterious losses. Child support payments became irregular, always accompanied by lengthy emails explaining his financial hardships – hardships that didn’t seem to prevent him from hiring an aggressive attorney or taking lavish vacations with the boys. “I’m just trying to be transparent about my struggles,” he’d tell the judge while Marguerite’s attorney showed her mounting credit card debt from covering the children’s basic needs.

Custody exchanges became theaters for subtle manipulation. He’d arrive early or late, always with an explanation that made her seem unreasonable for objecting. “Daddy had an emergency client,” he’d tell the boys within earshot of witnesses, “but Mommy doesn’t understand how important my work is.” He filed emergency motions over minor schedule changes, claimed she was alienating the children whenever they expressed reluctance to visit him, and insisted on “co-parenting counseling” sessions where he could continue gaslighting her under the guise of collaboration.

Each court appearance drained a little more from her savings, her energy, her hope. But watching Max play the role of concerned father and hesitant accuser taught Marguerite something crucial – the man she’d married had never truly existed. He was, and had always been, this calculating manipulator. The gentle healer was just another mask he wore, discarded now that it no longer served his purpose. This realization, painful as it was, helped steel her for the battles ahead.

The Impact on Children

Weaponizing Custody

Max knew very well that triangulating the children was harmful to their mental health. Turning them against their mother was equally bad. But his obsession with regaining control over her triumphed. He told seven-year-old Max Jr. and four-year-old Tommy, “I love Mommy but she doesn’t love me anymore. I want to come home, but she won’t let me. She destroyed our family, and she doesn’t care about either of you.”

It was no surprise when the children returned asking why she “wouldn’t let Daddy move back in.” She worked with her therapist to craft an age-appropriate answer, but it still broke her heart that Max could hurt his own children to try to get to her.

Effects on the Children

Every custody exchange became a fresh nightmare. The boys would return from their father’s different somehow – sometimes hyper and defiant, other times withdrawn and anxious. No homework done, staying up until midnight, eating nothing but takeout. But those weren’t the things that kept Marguerite awake at night.

It was seven-year-old Max Jr.’s vacant stare when he talked about Dad’s “being sad” or “mad” this weekend. The way four-year-old Tommy would hide in his closet after particularly rough weekends at Dad’s. The casual way they described walking on emotional landmines – “Because sometimes Dad’s nice, but sometimes he’s not. He’s scary.”

Manipulation Through Parenting

Max wielded the children like weapons in his ongoing war against her. He’d buy them expensive toys, take them to theme parks, and let them eat ice cream for dinner. He knew the youngest was lactose intolerant, but he just didn’t seem to care.

Then, after each time he spent with them, he’d sit them down for “honest conversations” about how “Mommy destroyed our family” and “Mommy’s trying to keep you from me.” He’d prompt them to report back on her activities, friends, and whether she was dating.

Max remarried within a year after their divorce was finalized, and she had hoped his attention would be redirected. Instead, he filed motions for reducing child support and arguing for a larger share of time to spend with the children. “They’d have a stay-at-home mother living with us,” he’d say. “My ex-wife is too invested in her career to care.”

Breaking Free

Documentation and Strategy

She started documenting everything. Every missed payment. Every concerning comment from the boys. Every erratic behavior. She networked with domestic violence support groups, learning about parallel parenting and grey rock techniques. She picked up extra work, squirreling away money where she could. It was now two years since she had filed for divorce. Max made motion after motion slowing the process down. It was expensive, but she had peace.

The Path to Freedom

It wasn’t freedom. Not yet. But it was a fight she refused to give up.

For her boys. For herself. For every night, they spent time free from the grip of Max’s manipulation. For every night, she, herself, could sleep undisturbed and without fear.

One day, she promised herself, watching her sons sleep safely in their beds, at least for tonight. “One day, we’ll truly be free.”

Watch this 2-minute video explaining this phenomenon.

Closing:

Freedom from coercive control rarely happens in a single moment – it’s a journey that requires support, strategy, and unwavering determination. Today, Marguerite continues to advocate for stronger legal protections against psychological abuse while helping her children heal through trauma-informed therapy. Her story reminds us that abuse thrives in silence and isolation, but recovery flourishes in community and connection.

If you recognize these patterns in your own relationship or that of someone you know, reach out. Help is available 24/7 through the National Domestic Violence Hotline (1-800-799-SAFE). Trained advocates can connect you with local resources, including legal aid, counseling, and support groups specializing in coercive control. Document everything. Build your support network. Remember: the most dangerous time in an abusive relationship is when leaving – work with professionals to create a safety plan. Your instincts are valid. Your experiences are real. And you deserve to be free.

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