9 Things Emotionally Abused Men Need to Hear

When I stopped drinking, my then-partner continued. When she drank, she screamed threats, insults, and nonsense at me for hours, passed out, pissed the bed, and forgot all about it, waking the following day with a clean slate.

Once, in mid-tirade, she stopped momentarily, said, “I know this is emotional abuse,” and then got right back into it.

Then there were the times I overflowed with gratitude when she had the perfect opportunity to get blackout drunk or have an emotional meltdown and ruin an experience — a concert, my 40th birthday, whatever — and then… she didn’t. Such magnanimity! So much I was persistently willing to take responsibility for and normalize, sifting it through a mixture of denial and learned helplessness.

If you’re in an emotionally abusive relationship, it’s my highest hope that you can get help somewhere. All sorts of people abuse all sorts of other people in all sorts of ways. By focusing on men being emotionally abused by women, I mean no disrespect to anyone else. That’s what I know. It has unique wrinkles and can be hard to talk about in unique ways.

Here, then, are nine things I would have liked to have heard when a woman was emotionally abusing me. If you or someone you care for is in that situation, I hope this is of some help to you.

Yes, it’s that bad

She’s not a monster! She’s never gotten physical! This wouldn’t keep happening if I didn’t keep screwing up, or if I were more manly, or if I hadn’t bought the wrong kind of bagels… for myself.

It is that bad. That’s not to say that, when you downplay it, you aren’t exercising good judgment. You want to defend this person. You’re committed to her, for life, in some cases.

But, yeah, your gut is right. Your instincts are right. She’s trying to get you to distrust your judgment and instincts, but they’re right. It is that bad.

No, it’s not your fault

You did not manifest this. You did not Secret this treatment into your life. You don’t have to accept this or blame yourself for this to protect your relationship. No one deserves that, and no one should have that responsibility.

Historically, it’s safe to say abuse in romantic relationships, including emotional abuse, has been inflicted by men on women more often than vice versa. As a group, men are physically stronger and have had most of the power in most societies, at least since the rise of agriculture.

That doesn’t mean women can’t excel in the black arts of power dynamics and manipulation. Or that they don’t sometimes misuse substances, express personality disorders, and perpetuate cycles of abuse. Those things are all common in women.

Emotional abuse of all kinds of underreported. That’s certainly true of emotional abuse inflicted on men by women. That’s partly because of shame.

You may feel weak or unmasculine. You might hate to admit that this is happening, as it goes against every productive and counterproductive notion you may harbor about what a man is supposed to be. It’s not your fault. Under the wrong circumstances, it can happen to anyone, including wealthy celebrities. It’s not your fault.

(Note: I want nothing to do with Johnny Depp. He’s not my spokesperson. Will Smith, give me a call. Let’s get jiggy with it.)

You’re not the bad guy

None of that is to say there aren’t things you can do to help yourself. Some small mindset shifts can go a long way toward getting you to safety.

Beware — and be aware — of when you’re being psychologically manipulated.

I had one partner who hates all men, believes all men are scum, and will say this to your face in those words. She was severely mistreated by men. When she inflicts pain on the men in her life, she might believe her politics justify her behavior. Should you get into a romantic relationship with her, she might make you feel you deserve her emotional abuse because of your gender.

You’re being manipulated. You want to be a good guy. You want to be progressive and on the side of feminism. Great! Feminism has much to say about how gendered expectations rain pain down on everyone. If it’s specifically about vengeance by proxy, it’s not the sort of feminism you need to support.

You’re not broken

Also, beware, and be aware, of learned helplessness. You’re not broken. You’re not defective. You have what it takes to get past this.

You’re not listening to your instincts, perceiving your perceptions, or inhabiting your lived experience the way you would if you weren’t being conditioned to accept mistreatment and feel helpless to stop it. You’re trying to survive in an absurd and thankless situation, with tentacles burrowing in your psyche that touch your most painful memories of childhood.

There’s a person under all that. The light is on. Somebody’s home. You need to get that person to safety.

Seriously, you need to get out

This is the big takeaway. This is what matters.

When you’re ready to quit, there’s always a way. It may be difficult or come with significant losses. It may be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

It’s not as hard as staying. Things are not going to improve. Get out as soon as you can. You’ll be glad you did. You’ll wish you’d done it sooner.

This is the time to reconnect with people who care about you. So you can get out. You can return the favor later.

Find somebody who’s got your back, who will put you up, or can help you find somewhere to go.

That’s easier said than done, as protracted abuse can leave you socially isolated and mistrustful.

And if you can’t, if you really cannot leave, separate yourself psychologically from this woman and her abuse. Then, plan to leave, with specific actions and a firm timeline.

You don’t owe her an apology. You won’t hash this out through a nice, grown-up argument. She’s not playing fair. You’re going to get rolled, which happens in zero-sum games with people who don’t play fair.

Make an action plan. Don’t tell her about it. When she finds out you’re leaving, or you’re gone, you don’t owe her anything. You’ve apologized enough for nine lifetimes.

You’re not an outlier

Men don’t want to talk about this. We really, really don’t. Don’t take that to mean it’s not happening.

Research seems to suggest that what you’re experiencing is alarmingly common — presumably more than can be conclusively determined since it’s so notoriously underreported — and that the issue is too complex for any tidy narrative.

Don’t think you’re alone. You’re not.

There is help — and you might have to get creative to find it

Help is available, but it may not be in the first place that you look

Los Angeles, where I live, is a city of thousands of support groups. After I left my abusive partner, I sought out a support group for men who shared my experience. There were goldendoodle grief groups. How hard could it be?

As far as I know, such a thing does not exist.

There are resources available, of course, but I failed to find any support groups specifically for men who women have emotionally abused. Since there’s an understandable urge to keep men out of spaces for women who have survived domestic violence, it’s a significant gap in the market.

Aside from therapy and friends, one thing that helped me was a men’s group run by my friend Jason Lange. I receive no kickbacks for mentioning it to you, and your mileage may vary. Similar groups exist online and around the world, and it may be a growing trend. Even so, it’s not exactly what I had in mind. That means there’s an opportunity to organize such a group for anyone with sufficient time, courage, and wherewithal.

You are encouraged to grieve

Be aware of the sunk cost fallacy. It can keep you stuck in a lousy, hopeless situation. And, when you escape, it can make you feel desperate to recoup your losses.

After being in an abusive relationship for years, I wanted to hit the town. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to make mischief. I wanted to make up for the time that I felt like I’d lost when I was being mistreated.

I found it wasn’t so easy.

This is real grief. This is the death of who you thought you were. It’s the loss of what you thought the rest of your life would be. It’s reimagining and reconfiguring your image of someone you expected to spend the rest of your life with, as well as your own. This is grief. This is a death in the family. This is serious business. And you have to give yourself time. space, and self-compassion to deal with this.

Maybe you can transition immediately back into dating, but based on my experience, I wouldn’t count on it. Pace yourself.

I pursued a rebound relationship. We’d been friends for years, loved each other on many levels, and had knockout sexual chemistry. When my self-esteem was locked at rock bottom, she made me feel like a rock star. It was a wonderful experience.

Eventually, she realized I was more damaged than I let on. We had an ugly breakup.

I spent a year trying to rekindle that relationship. And I finally succeeded! Against all odds and everyone’s recommendations! And my heart was quickly dashed into the rocks. All the anger, self-loathing, and heartbreak I’d put off dealing with came flooding in.

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Don’t rush into another relationship. Seriously. Don’t. You’ll want to, but don’t. If you insist, I can’t stop you, but please, don’t.

You’ll want to feel loved, special, and important. Some women will make you feel that way. You may not be ready for that. You need time to grieve and grow.

During that process, you may be… challenging for some people to deal with. An asshole, even. Let that happen. Betrayal is a complex business. It does a number on you. You’ll be paranoid. You’ll be mistrustful. You’re not going to be firing on eight cylinders or working at your full capacity as a lover, an employee, an employer, an artist, an entrepreneur, an Uber driver, a friend, a citizen, or anything else for a while.

Give yourself that space, and have people around you who will give you that space. You’d do it for them. You might have to. This sort of thing isn’t getting less common.

Be the best asshole you can be. Don’t get any tattoos or anything. Don’t burn any bridges if you can help it. The world is small, and life is long.

There is life on the other side, believe it or not

Be on the lookout for signs, any vague glimmers, of post-traumatic growth. That’s when the flowers break through concrete, as Tupac Shakur put it. You start to experience things in depth that you were not capable of before.

This is in no way a good experience. But when you’ve really hit the lows, you understand things that people don’t if they haven’t been there.

When you’ve been there, you get it, and you’ll be able to be a shepherd for other men in this situation. If you fancy yourself a leader, an educator, or a teacher of some kind, you’ll have opportunities to practice your skills that you would not have had before. I’m a writer, among other things. I found anger was a fantastic place to write comedy from.

There’s no “silver lining” to emotional abuse, but life will bring you experiences that are nonetheless worthy of celebration, indulgence, and enjoyment.

Eventually, as time goes on and everything that happens affects everything that happens after that, you will find yourself with a life that you would not have been able to have had all of this not happened. You’ll look at your life you love, see the chain of causality that led you to where you are now, and say, “Hey, you know, everything had to happen a certain way for me to get here.”

And that doesn’t mean those were good things that happened. It doesn’t justify it. It doesn’t need a justification. Everything doesn’t happen for a reason. Some stuff is just awful.

But when the sun breaks through the clouds — I don’t want to jinx it for you, but it took a long time for me — you’ll experience gratitude, not for anything that happened, but for yourself, for getting through it, and having compassion for yourself. You’ll be grateful for the people you surrounded yourself with, from whom you wisely sought counsel. And you’ll be ready for the new life, confidence, and freedom you deserve.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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