When I used to think about control in a relationship, I never thought about it in the subtle, quiet ways. To me, it seemed if someone was trying to control me, it would be obvious.
I would know all the signs because they were everywhere - outlined in interviews, in films, in books.
They were spoken in the urban legends our aunts would tell us after two glasses of wine, eyes wider with each gruesome detail. To me, control seemed to be something physically inflicted by an abuser, or if not, it was overtly verbal.
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It took many relationships, and many years to realise that control can take hundreds of forms. It is undefinable because it has no limits. It’s fluid and unique, depending on the relationship.
Right after I graduated university, I received a job offer that I never would’ve dreamed I could be up for. I’d been in a serious relationship at the time, and when I told him I’d received the offer I was ecstatic. His reaction? Disappointment.
He reacted with disappointment when I told him that the job would involve travel, something I’m deeply passionate about.