I have written about this a lot: I used to think I just didn’t understand him yet. Every time I left a conversation feeling confused, anxious, or ashamed, I told myself I must have missed something. Maybe if I paid closer attention to his tone. Maybe if I understood how his mind worked. Maybe then it would make sense. It never did. Instead, I learned to abandon myself to protect the peace. I learned to decode him instead of trusting myself. I learned that emotional abuse doesn’t always scream. Sometimes, and often, it wears the mask of logic and uses just enough softness to keep you hooked. And because no one teaches us how the cycle of abuse actually works—especially when there’s no yelling, no bruises, no threats—it took me years to name what was happening.
I Didn’t Realize I Was in the Cycle—Until I Was Deep in It
When I started documenting the patterns in my relationship with my ex, I didn’t know I was mapping out the cycle of abuse. I was just trying to survive. Trying to understand why every conversation made me feel small, or wrong, or like I was the crazy one. I remember writing in my journal:
“I feel like I’m being erased while he says I’m ‘being too emotional.’ How can I still be here, when I know this isn’t okay?”
I didn’t recognize it at the time, but that was gaslighting. Then came the emotional withdrawal—the version of the discard phase where I’d go days without any accountability from him, but somehow be blamed for “being too much” when I checked in.
“He says I overwhelmed him. But I was quiet. I was so careful. I barely said anything.”
The Cycle Looks Like Love—Until It Doesn’t
There were good moments. Times when he looked at me like I mattered. That’s the part that makes it so confusing. That’s what survivors often hold on to—what we tell ourselves must be real. But those good moments were conditional. They only lasted as long as I made myself small enough to be tolerated. And then, inevitably, came the emotional whiplash:
“Today he said I was selfish. Yesterday he said I was the only person who ever truly saw him. I feel dizzy.”
The cycle doesn’t just break your heart—it breaks your sense of reality.
What Finally Made It Clear
I started to track the phases. Not just the fights. The tone shifts, the periods of withdrawal, the cold logic used to shut me down, the way reconciliation always required me to take the blame. It looked like this:
- Idealization: Long messages about how connected we were. Plans for a future. His voice softening when I pulled away.
- Devaluation: Subtle criticisms disguised as observations. Shifts in tone that made me feel foolish, needy, or selfish.
- Gaslighting: Being told I was too sensitive, or not listening, or imagining things. Feeling lost in conversations that looped in circles.
- Discard: Silence. Blame. Emotional stonewalling unless I folded.
- Re-hoover: Messages saying he missed me. A breadcrumb of warmth. A new “insight” about himself. The pull back in.
I was never crazy. I was being conditioned.
That’s Why I Created Unhooked
When I finally saw the full cycle, I was able to name the invisible abuse. I stopped asking if I was the problem and started asking better questions: What is this doing to me? What is it costing me to stay? That’s what Unhooked is for. It’s not a course filled with fluff. It’s a raw, honest, step-by-step breakdown of the classic abuse cycle—designed to help you map it in your own life, just like I did. With real examples. With reflection prompts. With the language survivors need to stop minimizing and start seeing clearly.
If you’re stuck in confusion, this is the map. If you’re questioning your sanity, this is the mirror. If you’re ready to name what’s happening—this is the start of getting free.
