I had written a letter to my father for Father's Day, but I feel like in order for it to ring true to listeners, I would need to give a little more background about that relationship. I'm going to cover some of that today.
Our topic is 13 common emotionally abusive tactics that controlling people use. I'm going to list them, and then I'm going to talk about them individually.
1. Grooming
2. Withholding
3. Catastrophizing
4. Downplaying Accomplishments
5. Undermining
6. Labeling Or Misassessing
7. Passive-aggression
8. Generalizing
9. Guilt Trips
10. Isolating
11. Breadcrumbing (also known as intermittent reinforcement)
12. Gaslighting Or Rewriting History
13. Moving The Goalposts
Grooming
My father has spent a lot of time building a relationship with my oldest son.
My oldest son is autistic and high functioning. His special interests are trains and airplanes, automobiles and anything mechanical. When he was little, he used to stare at the ceiling fan. He could do that forever and be entertained, because he just loved gears and he loved things that would spin.
My son is fairly easy to bond with if you have an interest in those things, and if you talk about those things with him. Since my father wanted to have a relationship with my son, he talked a lot about trains and airplanes with him. My dad listened. Gifts were purchased. Time was spent together, all dedicated around my son’s interests and passions.
This all sounds like healthy territory, right?
Getting to know someone can be healthy if the person doing it is operating in good faith. If they're building rapport to have a reciprocal, healthy relationship where they really care about the other person's feelings, it’s good. But keep in mind, my father isn’t really a safe person.
As a mom, I should have been looking out for my son, and keeping him safe instead of watching as my father groomed the boy to be trusting and close.
But I didn’t.
Back then, I very badly wanted a relationship with my father. And I was unaware of just how unhealthy the man was. So I encouraged the relationship, thinking a grandchild should know his grandparents. I didn't think there was anything wrong with it. I didn’t think there was anything bad or unhealthy about it either. I was still growing and hadn’t realized how dysfunctional my upbringing was, I couldn't see the danger. But here's what ultimately happened in that relationship between my father and my son.
For years, all through Elementary and Middle School, my oldest son believed his grandfather cared for him on a deep level. They remained close until he was in High School, when my son was thrown in the middle of a conflict between my father and I.
When my dad retired, he invited us to this concert at Wolf Trap in the Washington DC area as a way to celebrate. Somehow my arrival at the concert turned into a point of contention. Because, while my parents had originally wanted me to arrive at a certain time--less than a week prior to the event, they changed their minds and decided they wanted me there an hour earlier.
I couldn't come an hour earlier.
So they became very angry, but didn't say they were angry. Instead they took it out on my oldest son when we all arrived at Wolf Trap. See, we went to meet my father first, who had the tickets. My son expected his grandfather to greet him like he always does--with warmth and with humor and with excitement. Instead my dad was very cold and distant, overly formal and ornery with my son. Dad took his anger with me out on his grandson, essentially.
Years of grooming followed by that kind of treatment--where affection has been given and then arbitrarily withdrawn, and where all warmth and good feeling is ripped away suddenly and the recipient doesn't know why, well... that's very destructive and it’s emotional abuse. It’s also a form of withholding, which brings us to number two.
Withholding
The thing about withholding is that it's dishonest.
If you're on the receiving end of withholding, you will feel extremely uneasy and like the ground is shaking beneath you, like you're not sure when you're going to be presented with an unpleasant surprise. Instinctively, you’ll know it's coming, but you won’t know when.
I'm going back to the situation at Wolf Trap, because affection wasn't the only thing withheld. There was also some purposeful withholding of information that was part of this weird and messed up experience. My parents wanted me to come to this concert to celebrate my dad's retirement, and I was very excited to go initially.
I set aside the time and invited my boyfriend and his children. The fact I couldn't move my arrival time to an hour earlier was because my boyfriend’s children were young adults who needed to take off work and carve out time so they could attend. I was arriving with them. As such, it was impractical and also impossible for me to push that time back.
It was also the first time I would bring my boyfriend and his children to a function where they could meet my parents and family.
This all sounds like healthy territory, right?
Getting to know someone can be healthy if the person doing it is operating in good faith. If they're building rapport to have a reciprocal, healthy relationship where they really care about the other person's feelings, it’s good. But keep in mind, my father isn’t really a safe person.
As a mom, I should have been looking out for my son, and keeping him safe instead of watching as my father groomed the boy to be trusting and close.
But I didn’t.
Back then, I very badly wanted a relationship with my father. And I was unaware of just how unhealthy the man was. So I encouraged the relationship, thinking a grandchild should know his grandparents. I didn't think there was anything wrong with it. I didn’t think there was anything bad or unhealthy about it either. I was still growing and hadn’t realized how dysfunctional my upbringing was, I couldn't see the danger. But here's what ultimately happened in that relationship between my father and my son.
For years, all through Elementary and Middle School, my oldest son believed his grandfather cared for him on a deep level. They remained close until he was in High School, when my son was thrown in the middle of a conflict between my father and I.
When my dad retired, he invited us to this concert at Wolf Trap in the Washington DC area as a way to celebrate. Somehow my arrival at the concert turned into a point of contention. Because, while my parents had originally wanted me to arrive at a certain time--less than a week prior to the event, they changed their minds and decided they wanted me there an hour earlier.
I couldn't come an hour earlier.
So they became very angry, but didn't say they were angry. Instead they took it out on my oldest son when we all arrived at Wolf Trap. See, we went to meet my father first, who had the tickets. My son expected his grandfather to greet him like he always does--with warmth and with humor and with excitement. Instead my dad was very cold and distant, overly formal and ornery with my son. Dad took his anger with me out on his grandson, essentially.
Years of grooming followed by that kind of treatment--where affection has been given and then arbitrarily withdrawn, and where all warmth and good feeling is ripped away suddenly and the recipient doesn't know why, well... that's very destructive and it’s emotional abuse. It’s also a form of withholding, which brings us to number two.
Withholding
The thing about withholding is that it's dishonest.
If you're on the receiving end of withholding, you will feel extremely uneasy and like the ground is shaking beneath you, like you're not sure when you're going to be presented with an unpleasant surprise. Instinctively, you’ll know it's coming, but you won’t know when.
I'm going back to the situation at Wolf Trap, because affection wasn't the only thing withheld. There was also some purposeful withholding of information that was part of this weird and messed up experience. My parents wanted me to come to this concert to celebrate my dad's retirement, and I was very excited to go initially.
I set aside the time and invited my boyfriend and his children. The fact I couldn't move my arrival time to an hour earlier was because my boyfriend’s children were young adults who needed to take off work and carve out time so they could attend. I was arriving with them. As such, it was impractical and also impossible for me to push that time back.
It was also the first time I would bring my boyfriend and his children to a function where they could meet my parents and family.
I will say, at this point, it was the last time, because of how it went down.
Earlier in the week, my mother sent this text saying she wanted me to arrive at 6:30 instead of 7:30. The message I received was that I needed to come at the new proposed time because it was important to her. But she didn't tell me why everything had been pushed an hour earlier, or why this new time was suddenly so vital. I didn't feel like I could ask, either.
She was withholding something.
I was suspicious, but explaining that wasn’t going to go over well. So I stuck to my clear, simple boundary and stated when I could arrive. I thought she accepted that. Until I got this phone call from my father a few days later. It was a frantic call. He left a voicemail message that sounded very tense and on edge. “It's so important that you come early. I'm really worried about you.”
Why was he worried about me? Why was it suddenly so important I arrive at 6:30 when two weeks ago our plans were fine? Now, all of a sudden, I had to arrive an hour early or he was worried something terrible was going to happen?
I knew they were withholding something, but I couldn't say, “Hey, Mom and Dad, what are you not telling me? What's going on here?” They would deny they were holding anything back. And I would be painted as over-sensitive and irrational.
I know how the pattern works.
So instead I showed up with my children, my boyfriend, and his children at the time we all agreed upon originally. And we got this very cold, calculated, distant welcome from my father. I took the tickets and we went back to meet the rest of my family. Low and behold, with my other brothers and sister who live locally, was my younger brother and his wife who live in the West. They had flown out to attend the big event, which was very sweet.
However, no one told me he was going to be there.
I instantly knew this was the information my parents had been withholding.
They chose not to share it with me, likely because they thought my brother’s presence would make me determined not to arrive early as they requested. They’re not wrong that I don’t have a great relationship with this particular brother. But that’s more reason that I should’ve been honestly communicated with, so that I could prepare.
Earlier in the week, my mother sent this text saying she wanted me to arrive at 6:30 instead of 7:30. The message I received was that I needed to come at the new proposed time because it was important to her. But she didn't tell me why everything had been pushed an hour earlier, or why this new time was suddenly so vital. I didn't feel like I could ask, either.
She was withholding something.
I was suspicious, but explaining that wasn’t going to go over well. So I stuck to my clear, simple boundary and stated when I could arrive. I thought she accepted that. Until I got this phone call from my father a few days later. It was a frantic call. He left a voicemail message that sounded very tense and on edge. “It's so important that you come early. I'm really worried about you.”
Why was he worried about me? Why was it suddenly so important I arrive at 6:30 when two weeks ago our plans were fine? Now, all of a sudden, I had to arrive an hour early or he was worried something terrible was going to happen?
I knew they were withholding something, but I couldn't say, “Hey, Mom and Dad, what are you not telling me? What's going on here?” They would deny they were holding anything back. And I would be painted as over-sensitive and irrational.
I know how the pattern works.
So instead I showed up with my children, my boyfriend, and his children at the time we all agreed upon originally. And we got this very cold, calculated, distant welcome from my father. I took the tickets and we went back to meet the rest of my family. Low and behold, with my other brothers and sister who live locally, was my younger brother and his wife who live in the West. They had flown out to attend the big event, which was very sweet.
However, no one told me he was going to be there.
I instantly knew this was the information my parents had been withholding.
They chose not to share it with me, likely because they thought my brother’s presence would make me determined not to arrive early as they requested. They’re not wrong that I don’t have a great relationship with this particular brother. But that’s more reason that I should’ve been honestly communicated with, so that I could prepare.
Instead they intentionally kept me in the dark.
At the end of the day, all of this was irrelevant, because I couldn’t come when they wanted me to regardless. But that doesn't make it okay for them to just NOT mention to me that my younger brother was going to be in attendance at the event… as if this somehow is going to trick me into spending a bunch of extra time with him.
The withholding of vital information is dishonest. It makes you feel like the other shoe is going to drop and you just never know when. If this is done as a matter of course, it is emotional abuse. And to be fair, they didn’t just withhold vital Information about who I would be spending time with in an effort to manipulate the situation, they made a really big huge deal about how they wanted me to come early because they were worried about traffic and parking.
They made up a fake reason!
Anyone who knows anything about Wolf Trap is aware there is plenty of parking when you go in at the beginning of a concert. The problem is leaving: there's one exit. So people come, they park, they sit for this big concert, and then when it's time to leave there's a bottleneck and it takes forever.
I knew this.
My father knows this.
He has worked that venue for years, and yet he’s calling me all worried about parking before the event, telling me I won’t be able to find a place to park, that I’ll be late and end up locked out, or that I’ll hold everyone up and inconvenience/ruin everyone’s evening?
They knew they were full of crap, and I knew they were full of crap! But I couldn't say, “Mom, Dad, you're full of crap. You're being dishonest and withholding information and catastrophizing to get your way.”
At the end of the day, all of this was irrelevant, because I couldn’t come when they wanted me to regardless. But that doesn't make it okay for them to just NOT mention to me that my younger brother was going to be in attendance at the event… as if this somehow is going to trick me into spending a bunch of extra time with him.
The withholding of vital information is dishonest. It makes you feel like the other shoe is going to drop and you just never know when. If this is done as a matter of course, it is emotional abuse. And to be fair, they didn’t just withhold vital Information about who I would be spending time with in an effort to manipulate the situation, they made a really big huge deal about how they wanted me to come early because they were worried about traffic and parking.
They made up a fake reason!
Anyone who knows anything about Wolf Trap is aware there is plenty of parking when you go in at the beginning of a concert. The problem is leaving: there's one exit. So people come, they park, they sit for this big concert, and then when it's time to leave there's a bottleneck and it takes forever.
I knew this.
My father knows this.
He has worked that venue for years, and yet he’s calling me all worried about parking before the event, telling me I won’t be able to find a place to park, that I’ll be late and end up locked out, or that I’ll hold everyone up and inconvenience/ruin everyone’s evening?
They knew they were full of crap, and I knew they were full of crap! But I couldn't say, “Mom, Dad, you're full of crap. You're being dishonest and withholding information and catastrophizing to get your way.”
That would have been rude.
Catastrophizing
When manipulators catastrophize, they send the message that if you don’t do exactly what they want, something terrible is going to happen.
When I got the job that I have now, working in a school where I teach a subject that excites me, I had to drive a long way initially. The commute was over an hour each way, and when I told my parents, I wanted them to be excited and say congratulations. They knew I had wanted a job like this for years, and it was a big deal that I got it.
Do you know what response I got from my mother?
“Have you thought about your children and how it will affect them for you to work so far away?”
Catastrophizing.
"Have you thought about what will happen if they get sick and you can’t pick them up?"
Catastrophizing
When manipulators catastrophize, they send the message that if you don’t do exactly what they want, something terrible is going to happen.
When I got the job that I have now, working in a school where I teach a subject that excites me, I had to drive a long way initially. The commute was over an hour each way, and when I told my parents, I wanted them to be excited and say congratulations. They knew I had wanted a job like this for years, and it was a big deal that I got it.
Do you know what response I got from my mother?
“Have you thought about your children and how it will affect them for you to work so far away?”
Catastrophizing.
"Have you thought about what will happen if they get sick and you can’t pick them up?"
"Have you thought about what will happen if you get in an accident on the way with that big long commute?"
"Have you thought about whether you can be a good mom with this job?"
She didn't go quite that far, but it was all implied. You get my drift. This is catastrophizing. The manipulative person tries to make you believe that if you don't make decisions they approve of, all these bad things are going to happen to you. It's emotional abuse.
Downplaying Accomplishments
After I left my husband, I went back to school. I had to get babysitters to watch my children. I had to study, and worked really hard to get this degree. it was not the easiest thing in the world. As graduation approached, I shared news of the achievement with my parents. This is how the conversation went.
Dad: Wow, Angela you're really educated.
Mom: Oh, I wouldn't say that!
Dad: What do you mean, you wouldn't say that?
Mom: Well, she's definitely not the most educated one in the family. I mean, look at her older brother. He has a Ph.D. I would say he's more educated. Oh, and her younger brother out West, he's a lawyer, and graduated with a law degree from a much more prestigious college. I would say he's more educated too.
They had this conversation right in front of me.
She didn't go quite that far, but it was all implied. You get my drift. This is catastrophizing. The manipulative person tries to make you believe that if you don't make decisions they approve of, all these bad things are going to happen to you. It's emotional abuse.
Downplaying Accomplishments
After I left my husband, I went back to school. I had to get babysitters to watch my children. I had to study, and worked really hard to get this degree. it was not the easiest thing in the world. As graduation approached, I shared news of the achievement with my parents. This is how the conversation went.
Dad: Wow, Angela you're really educated.
Mom: Oh, I wouldn't say that!
Dad: What do you mean, you wouldn't say that?
Mom: Well, she's definitely not the most educated one in the family. I mean, look at her older brother. He has a Ph.D. I would say he's more educated. Oh, and her younger brother out West, he's a lawyer, and graduated with a law degree from a much more prestigious college. I would say he's more educated too.
They had this conversation right in front of me.
My accomplishment was no small thing: I had completed this degree as a single mom with four kids, so I could get back into the workforce. For me, it was a big deal, but what did my mother do? She went out of her way to make sure I wasn't given too much credit. She downplayed that accomplishment to the extreme. It’s an emotional abuse tactic my ex-husband also used.
When my first poetry book was published, it was by a small press that paid in copies. But it was still a big deal. I mean, how many times do you get a press to pick up your poetry, right? My poetry book was going to press, and I was really happy and excited.
So I'm talking to him about this and what does he say? “Of course you're only good at stuff people don’t get paid for. You’re a musician. You write poetry. Money matters, and you don't bring in any. You're getting paid in copies, Angela!”
When my first poetry book was published, it was by a small press that paid in copies. But it was still a big deal. I mean, how many times do you get a press to pick up your poetry, right? My poetry book was going to press, and I was really happy and excited.
So I'm talking to him about this and what does he say? “Of course you're only good at stuff people don’t get paid for. You’re a musician. You write poetry. Money matters, and you don't bring in any. You're getting paid in copies, Angela!”
Again, downplaying my accomplishments. It was no different than what I experienced with my parents.
When I finally did get my first job and I was entering the workforce as a full-time teacher, I hoped maybe the downplaying was over. During a birthday celebration, I was sitting around a table with my extended family. We were supposed to be celebrating Dad's birthday and my own. But my dad spent half an hour telling me that going into education wasn't a big deal, that he had brothers and sisters in education; they have lots of educators in the family, and it's certainly not a pioneering move; it’s certainly nothing unique, because it’s just what people in our family do.
More discounting of my accomplishments. Nothing had changed.
When I finally did get my first job and I was entering the workforce as a full-time teacher, I hoped maybe the downplaying was over. During a birthday celebration, I was sitting around a table with my extended family. We were supposed to be celebrating Dad's birthday and my own. But my dad spent half an hour telling me that going into education wasn't a big deal, that he had brothers and sisters in education; they have lots of educators in the family, and it's certainly not a pioneering move; it’s certainly nothing unique, because it’s just what people in our family do.
More discounting of my accomplishments. Nothing had changed.
Undermining
Undermining is a form of emotional abuse, because it makes you feel like you can't accomplish anything.
Back when I was married to my ex-husband, I had a freelance musical career. It was part-time but it gave me some feeling of worth and some feeling of accomplishment. I played with lots of orchestras around the DC metropolitan area, and I did some string quartet and trio work. I viewed it as part of my identity.
After my oldest son was born, my husband would talk about how he was supporting me in my freelancing, but his version of support meant he would watch our son while complaining about having to babysit. This is absurd. It isn’t babysitting if you’re taking care of your own child, but that didn’t keep him from thinking it was.
One night, I went out and had a great rehearsal. When I came back and walked through the front door, it had been a long night and a long drive. So I went into the half bathroom next to the entrance and did my business.
I flushed.
The water immediately began to overflow all over the floor. It leaked down into the basement, creating this mighty flood that had to be cleaned up, and my husband comes running downstairs, “What are you doing?”
“I had to use the bathroom.”
“It's clogged!”
“How would I know that?”
“Our son flushed something down there, and I can't get it unclogged. I already did this earlier tonight. I already had to clean up a big mess in the basement with paper towels. You're gonna have to clean this up now, cause you should've known better. If you hadn't gone to work and left me with him, this never would have happened in the first place.”
Cue the guilt.
I felt so guilty about what had happened while I was gone working that I took full responsibility. Because if I have been there, that wouldn't have happened, right?
I even left church early the next day and bought one of those snaky things for the toilet. I tried to clean out whatever was stuck in there and failed. I remember leaning over the toilet trying to snake out whatever was clogging it up, and then crying because I couldn't get it out.
It was my fault. I had caused this horrible tragedy of the toilet being clogged by not being there to stop it. And my husband at the time totally encouraged that thinking. He said, “Yes, you should fix this. It’s your problem. You weren't there and this is what happens when you go back to work after you've had a child. This is what happens.”
After that incident, I felt so guilty, I actually stopped taking musical gigs. I didn't go out and play my viola anymore in orchestras or string quartet, because I didn't want something like that to happen again.
This is a pretty clear example of undermining. He was undermining any ambitions I had that would take me outside the home. This leads us right into the next emotional abuse tactic.
Labeling Or Misassessing
I'm going to riff off of this story. There was a lot of labeling and misassessing that went along with the undermining here. He told me that I was overly ambitious. He labeled me as emotional. I mean, how else would you label someone who leaves church early so they can try and unclog a toilet?
He labeled me as unreasonable, because how could I possibly think that it was reasonable to go out and work at night and not have bad things happen? He would throw these little labels into our casual conversations. Random. Off the cuff, “Angela, you’re irrational… You’re emotional… overly ambitious... You’re unreasonable.” And when you constantly bombard someone with labels, they start to believe it about themselves.
I was lucky that he never called me crazy or psycho.
But I had some friends whose husbands call them crazy on a regular basis. Some have come to believe that about themselves.
Passive-aggression
I grew up with a mother who was the queen of passive-aggressive behavior. You know someone is passive-aggressive when they tell you that they never get angry. “I don't get angry,” they'll say while behaving in an obviously angry way.
If you pointed this out, they'll say, “Oh no, that's not anger, that's disappointment. I'm not angry.” But the truth is, they are furious and don't want to admit it, even to themselves. These are the most passive-aggressive people you will ever meet.
I went back to school twice. The second time was after the divorce. The first time was while I was still married and had one child. When I went back to school the first time, my mother would occasionally, once a week or so, watch my oldest son during classes.
Well, one day, she was really super angry with me. But unfortunately, I didn't know this until I arrived at her house. See, I had this relationship with my mother back then that I thought was relatively okay. We hung out weekly and she helped me with childcare as I attended school. But on this particular day she was angry and wanted to punish me. So despite our agreement that she would watch her grandson, I was getting ready to leave for school when my mother was like, “You do not appreciate me. And I will not be watching your son.”
This put me in a huge mess, of course. It was very stressful and a big problem, because I had all these college level classes. And I couldn’t bring a toddler with me to these classes. I had no backup person close by. I was screwed.
The water immediately began to overflow all over the floor. It leaked down into the basement, creating this mighty flood that had to be cleaned up, and my husband comes running downstairs, “What are you doing?”
“I had to use the bathroom.”
“It's clogged!”
“How would I know that?”
“Our son flushed something down there, and I can't get it unclogged. I already did this earlier tonight. I already had to clean up a big mess in the basement with paper towels. You're gonna have to clean this up now, cause you should've known better. If you hadn't gone to work and left me with him, this never would have happened in the first place.”
Cue the guilt.
I felt so guilty about what had happened while I was gone working that I took full responsibility. Because if I have been there, that wouldn't have happened, right?
I even left church early the next day and bought one of those snaky things for the toilet. I tried to clean out whatever was stuck in there and failed. I remember leaning over the toilet trying to snake out whatever was clogging it up, and then crying because I couldn't get it out.
It was my fault. I had caused this horrible tragedy of the toilet being clogged by not being there to stop it. And my husband at the time totally encouraged that thinking. He said, “Yes, you should fix this. It’s your problem. You weren't there and this is what happens when you go back to work after you've had a child. This is what happens.”
After that incident, I felt so guilty, I actually stopped taking musical gigs. I didn't go out and play my viola anymore in orchestras or string quartet, because I didn't want something like that to happen again.
This is a pretty clear example of undermining. He was undermining any ambitions I had that would take me outside the home. This leads us right into the next emotional abuse tactic.
Labeling Or Misassessing
I'm going to riff off of this story. There was a lot of labeling and misassessing that went along with the undermining here. He told me that I was overly ambitious. He labeled me as emotional. I mean, how else would you label someone who leaves church early so they can try and unclog a toilet?
He labeled me as unreasonable, because how could I possibly think that it was reasonable to go out and work at night and not have bad things happen? He would throw these little labels into our casual conversations. Random. Off the cuff, “Angela, you’re irrational… You’re emotional… overly ambitious... You’re unreasonable.” And when you constantly bombard someone with labels, they start to believe it about themselves.
I was lucky that he never called me crazy or psycho.
But I had some friends whose husbands call them crazy on a regular basis. Some have come to believe that about themselves.
Passive-aggression
I grew up with a mother who was the queen of passive-aggressive behavior. You know someone is passive-aggressive when they tell you that they never get angry. “I don't get angry,” they'll say while behaving in an obviously angry way.
If you pointed this out, they'll say, “Oh no, that's not anger, that's disappointment. I'm not angry.” But the truth is, they are furious and don't want to admit it, even to themselves. These are the most passive-aggressive people you will ever meet.
I went back to school twice. The second time was after the divorce. The first time was while I was still married and had one child. When I went back to school the first time, my mother would occasionally, once a week or so, watch my oldest son during classes.
Well, one day, she was really super angry with me. But unfortunately, I didn't know this until I arrived at her house. See, I had this relationship with my mother back then that I thought was relatively okay. We hung out weekly and she helped me with childcare as I attended school. But on this particular day she was angry and wanted to punish me. So despite our agreement that she would watch her grandson, I was getting ready to leave for school when my mother was like, “You do not appreciate me. And I will not be watching your son.”
This put me in a huge mess, of course. It was very stressful and a big problem, because I had all these college level classes. And I couldn’t bring a toddler with me to these classes. I had no backup person close by. I was screwed.
My mother, though. She had no remorse. “I'm not going to watch your son today.”
“I can tell you’re angry.”
“I'm not angry.”
I think if you're refusing to watch your grandson because you want to punish your daughter for something that you perceive as bad, and you’re doing it in the most last minute way possible so as to purposely screw her over, then yes… you are angry.
This is one example of passive-aggressive behavior.
My husband used to say biting things that were passive aggressive when he was angry. He would say, “Angela, I love you. I just don't like you.” So essentially he loved me, but against his will? That hurt.
It was really passive-aggressive.
He would also go out with his sister to lunch, and the two of them would spend the whole time bad-mouthing me. The only reason I knew is because he would be perfectly happy with me before the lunch with his sister, then he’d come back from it and all of a sudden, he had all these complaints he didn't have before. All of a sudden the food I cooked wasn't good enough.
“I can tell you’re angry.”
“I'm not angry.”
I think if you're refusing to watch your grandson because you want to punish your daughter for something that you perceive as bad, and you’re doing it in the most last minute way possible so as to purposely screw her over, then yes… you are angry.
This is one example of passive-aggressive behavior.
My husband used to say biting things that were passive aggressive when he was angry. He would say, “Angela, I love you. I just don't like you.” So essentially he loved me, but against his will? That hurt.
It was really passive-aggressive.
He would also go out with his sister to lunch, and the two of them would spend the whole time bad-mouthing me. The only reason I knew is because he would be perfectly happy with me before the lunch with his sister, then he’d come back from it and all of a sudden, he had all these complaints he didn't have before. All of a sudden the food I cooked wasn't good enough.
It was fine before.
All of a sudden I wasn't enough of a disciplinarian with the children.
All of a sudden I wasn't enough of a disciplinarian with the children.
I was fine before.
It became obvious they were getting together so they could gossip and smear campaign. That's passive aggressive, and it's emotionally abusive.
Generalizing
“You always do this…”
That's what my husband used to say. “Angela, you always do this.” It’s a pretty vague statement, but he made it meaningful with context and voice inflection. In his case, the thing that made it especially hurtful was that he would use the phrase whenever I revealed myself to be a human being.
Each time I got pregnant, I would get very very sick in the first trimester. I remember having trouble fixing dinner, because there was raw meat involved. He always had to have meat in every dinner that I cooked him. It was a requirement. So I would try and cook dinner with this raw meat, but it was really difficult.
I was so sick that the smell of the meat would make me vomit. So I’d be in the kitchen trying to make him dinner while throwing up night after night. Sometimes I didn't do a good job of getting dinner on the table like he wanted me to. It would be later than expected, or not as much food as he wanted. Maybe less meat. “I can hardly cook when I feel like this,” I told him.
His response was the same each time, “Angela, you always do this.”
It was his generalization.
After I had the baby, it was only the first day back from the hospital when I had to deal with the generalization. We lived in a townhouse, so even though they tell you not to climb stairs after you leave the hospital that's really hard to do when you live in a three-story townhouse.
I tried to stay on one level as much as I could, but at the end of the day I had to climb a few stairs. There was no way to avoid it, because I was still expected to do laundry. I was still expected to take care of the baby. I was still expected to put meals on the table. My duties had not changed just because I was a new mother. They had only increased.
So on the first night back after having this child I turned off the lights to go to sleep. We were lying in the bed together, but I got up because I felt something going on with my body. Painfully, I walked to the bathroom. Slowly, because I was sore.
I went into the bathroom to check things out, and a blood clot came out of me the size of a fist. Huge. Terrifying. I went back into the room, and I was like, “Honey, I just passed a huge blood clot. Could you take me to the doctor?” And do you know what he said rather than show concern? Do you know what he uttered to keep from getting out of bed and driving me?
It became obvious they were getting together so they could gossip and smear campaign. That's passive aggressive, and it's emotionally abusive.
Generalizing
“You always do this…”
That's what my husband used to say. “Angela, you always do this.” It’s a pretty vague statement, but he made it meaningful with context and voice inflection. In his case, the thing that made it especially hurtful was that he would use the phrase whenever I revealed myself to be a human being.
Each time I got pregnant, I would get very very sick in the first trimester. I remember having trouble fixing dinner, because there was raw meat involved. He always had to have meat in every dinner that I cooked him. It was a requirement. So I would try and cook dinner with this raw meat, but it was really difficult.
I was so sick that the smell of the meat would make me vomit. So I’d be in the kitchen trying to make him dinner while throwing up night after night. Sometimes I didn't do a good job of getting dinner on the table like he wanted me to. It would be later than expected, or not as much food as he wanted. Maybe less meat. “I can hardly cook when I feel like this,” I told him.
His response was the same each time, “Angela, you always do this.”
It was his generalization.
After I had the baby, it was only the first day back from the hospital when I had to deal with the generalization. We lived in a townhouse, so even though they tell you not to climb stairs after you leave the hospital that's really hard to do when you live in a three-story townhouse.
I tried to stay on one level as much as I could, but at the end of the day I had to climb a few stairs. There was no way to avoid it, because I was still expected to do laundry. I was still expected to take care of the baby. I was still expected to put meals on the table. My duties had not changed just because I was a new mother. They had only increased.
So on the first night back after having this child I turned off the lights to go to sleep. We were lying in the bed together, but I got up because I felt something going on with my body. Painfully, I walked to the bathroom. Slowly, because I was sore.
I went into the bathroom to check things out, and a blood clot came out of me the size of a fist. Huge. Terrifying. I went back into the room, and I was like, “Honey, I just passed a huge blood clot. Could you take me to the doctor?” And do you know what he said rather than show concern? Do you know what he uttered to keep from getting out of bed and driving me?
“Angela, you always do this.”
His generalizations made me feel like crap.
Guilt Trips
My parents are the king and queen of guilt trips. They love guilt so much!
When I first got married, they had wanted me to come over to their house every week with my new husband for this thing called Family Home Evening where you play games. You go around the room and say nice things about each other, although that’s not often how it went down. Regardless, it was supposed to be harmonious. There would be a spiritual thought and lesson.
It was family time.
When my wedding was over, I went on a honeymoon with my new husband, and the moment we returned, my mother wanted us to come over to her house every Monday night for Family Home Evening. But my husband refused. He explained that we were our own family now. He put his foot down and said we were not going to attend. No biggy.
My mother could've been a good sport. She could have extended some understanding and made alternative plans. Instead she said, “I see you don't believe in keeping your commitments anymore, that you don't believe in keeping your promises. Family isn't important to you now.”
What she did (alongside giving me the silent treatment for a solid week) was use a guilt trip. She used my father to pour on the shame. It would have been just as easy for her to be graceful, but she couldn't be understanding. Instead she put me in this situation where I was in a tug-of-war between her and my new husband. Her message was all, “You don't think family is important anymore, and if you cared about us, you would make him come. You would make him do this.”
Listeners, I dare you to make an emotionally and verbally abusive man come to a family gathering against his will. It ain’t happening. If people like this don't want to do something, it is not going to be a thing. He was no better than my mother with the guilt trips, they were just a different kind.
This went on all through my marriage. When I failed to bring my husband to a family activity, my mom would lay on the guilt, “Does your husband not like us anymore? Do you not like us anymore? This really hurts our feelings. We're people too. We have feelings too.”
I'm not arguing that my parents don't have feelings. Absolutely they have feelings and they have a right to those feelings, but guess what? They're adults. As adults, they can handle their own feelings, and they should not be using them to manipulate other people.
What she did (alongside giving me the silent treatment for a solid week) was use a guilt trip. She used my father to pour on the shame. It would have been just as easy for her to be graceful, but she couldn't be understanding. Instead she put me in this situation where I was in a tug-of-war between her and my new husband. Her message was all, “You don't think family is important anymore, and if you cared about us, you would make him come. You would make him do this.”
Listeners, I dare you to make an emotionally and verbally abusive man come to a family gathering against his will. It ain’t happening. If people like this don't want to do something, it is not going to be a thing. He was no better than my mother with the guilt trips, they were just a different kind.
This went on all through my marriage. When I failed to bring my husband to a family activity, my mom would lay on the guilt, “Does your husband not like us anymore? Do you not like us anymore? This really hurts our feelings. We're people too. We have feelings too.”
I'm not arguing that my parents don't have feelings. Absolutely they have feelings and they have a right to those feelings, but guess what? They're adults. As adults, they can handle their own feelings, and they should not be using them to manipulate other people.
That's bullshit.
It's also emotionally abusive.
Isolating
This is where the tug-of-war between my mother and my husband got really ugly.
In the beginning my husband was willing to do more with my family, but as time went on, he was willing to do less and less. If I wanted to see them, I would have to load my baby into the car and drive over there. And then, as I continually had more children, I would have to load a toddler and infant into my car and bring them over there myself, or I would have to load a toddler and an infant and a three-year-old into the car and bring them over.
It’s a lot of work to do all of that parenting and drive that far with little kids, then visit your parents and they expect you to also give them 100% of your attention. And your husband doesn't help, because he doesn’t even want you going to see your family.
It's also emotionally abusive.
Isolating
This is where the tug-of-war between my mother and my husband got really ugly.
In the beginning my husband was willing to do more with my family, but as time went on, he was willing to do less and less. If I wanted to see them, I would have to load my baby into the car and drive over there. And then, as I continually had more children, I would have to load a toddler and infant into my car and bring them over there myself, or I would have to load a toddler and an infant and a three-year-old into the car and bring them over.
It’s a lot of work to do all of that parenting and drive that far with little kids, then visit your parents and they expect you to also give them 100% of your attention. And your husband doesn't help, because he doesn’t even want you going to see your family.
To make matters worse, you're only getting criticism.
Your mother criticizes you because your husband's not coming over. And your husband criticizes you because you're seeing your parents and attending family gatherings he doesn’t appreciate. He wants you to himself. Or at the very least, to be left alone while you’re doing all the work toting children around. He wants to stay home all the time. If it were up to him, you would also stay home all day. He doesn't want you to have any non-church friends. He doesn't want you to spend time with your family. He hates your mother with a passion.
Your mother criticizes you because your husband's not coming over. And your husband criticizes you because you're seeing your parents and attending family gatherings he doesn’t appreciate. He wants you to himself. Or at the very least, to be left alone while you’re doing all the work toting children around. He wants to stay home all the time. If it were up to him, you would also stay home all day. He doesn't want you to have any non-church friends. He doesn't want you to spend time with your family. He hates your mother with a passion.
The isolation was gradual. It didn't start out as such an extreme thing, but the longer I was married to this man the more he wanted to limit my time outside the home. He would set a curfew for me. If I couldn't be home by that curfew, he would expect a phone call at 10 pm on the dot.
If I couldn't make a phone call, I would get reprimanded, and that happened several times. Needless to say, I was not treated like an adult. His line was always, “How do I know you're not dead by the side of the road unless you call me at exactly 10 p.m. and tell me you're going to be late.”
It was fine when I had a phone.
I didn't always have a phone, and sometimes I would be stuck in traffic in the middle of a freeway with no phone anywhere nearby. Then I would get home and immediately he would reprimand me. That was a big part of him isolating me.
It got to the point where I was only encouraged to hang out with friends he approved of. So friends from the church of my same sex, friends that he knew and that he liked. I had one friend that he really didn't like, and that friendship lasted about two years. At the end of that two years my husband (now ex) gave me an ultimatum, “ It’s her or me.”
He didn't want me to have any resources outside the home.
It was fine when I had a phone.
I didn't always have a phone, and sometimes I would be stuck in traffic in the middle of a freeway with no phone anywhere nearby. Then I would get home and immediately he would reprimand me. That was a big part of him isolating me.
It got to the point where I was only encouraged to hang out with friends he approved of. So friends from the church of my same sex, friends that he knew and that he liked. I had one friend that he really didn't like, and that friendship lasted about two years. At the end of that two years my husband (now ex) gave me an ultimatum, “ It’s her or me.”
He didn't want me to have any resources outside the home.
On some level, I think he knew that isolating me would keep me stuck longer. It’s harder to leave if you don’t have outside resources. This isolation is a form of emotional abuse.
Breadcrumbing
Breadcrumbing (also called intermittent reinforcement) is akin to subsisting off crumbs that fall off a table. This person you’re in a relationship with has a feast up there in front of them, but only gives you little crumbs of affection here and there.
It's random.
You never know when you're going to get a crumb.
Because it's so random and you never know when you're going to get that affection or that need met, you work really hard for it. You remember this person is capable of giving you the attention you need, or the love you need, or the help you need, but you never know when they're going to deliver. So you keep working for it.
When I was first dating my ex-husband, he used to make these amazing meals.. He made curry, a delicious dish with rice and potatoes and beef and carrots. And he had this delicious melty curry sauce that he put over it. He cooked for my entire family, and then he cleaned up after himself. I mean, he really cleaned. He did all the dishes, wiped the counters and the oven down spotless. And I thought this was the man that I was marrying.
Except after I married him, he didn't help with meals anymore. Occasionally, at the beginning, he would make curry, or he would make a nice meal, but the longer we were married, the less and less frequent those contributions became, until I felt grateful if he would wash one pan after dinner. “Wow,” I’d say. “He's washing a pan.”
I would feel grateful if he would fold the towels when we were putting the laundry away. “Wow, he's helping by folding laundry.” After a decade or so, I would feel grateful if he ordered pizza for my birthday, because that was a breadcrumb that meant he was trying.
I would love to say the breadcrumbing ended with my ex-husband, but after the divorce, my parents were breadcrumbing me like crazy.
I was craving support. I really needed their support. I needed financial support for my lawyer's fees. I needed help with the kids, because I had gone back to school, but they refused to watch the children at this point. They refused to help me in any way financially. They did not offer shelter. They did not offer anything substantive that would have actually provided relief. They didn't even give me any emotional support. Just a lot of judgment.
Breadcrumbing
Breadcrumbing (also called intermittent reinforcement) is akin to subsisting off crumbs that fall off a table. This person you’re in a relationship with has a feast up there in front of them, but only gives you little crumbs of affection here and there.
It's random.
You never know when you're going to get a crumb.
Because it's so random and you never know when you're going to get that affection or that need met, you work really hard for it. You remember this person is capable of giving you the attention you need, or the love you need, or the help you need, but you never know when they're going to deliver. So you keep working for it.
When I was first dating my ex-husband, he used to make these amazing meals.. He made curry, a delicious dish with rice and potatoes and beef and carrots. And he had this delicious melty curry sauce that he put over it. He cooked for my entire family, and then he cleaned up after himself. I mean, he really cleaned. He did all the dishes, wiped the counters and the oven down spotless. And I thought this was the man that I was marrying.
Except after I married him, he didn't help with meals anymore. Occasionally, at the beginning, he would make curry, or he would make a nice meal, but the longer we were married, the less and less frequent those contributions became, until I felt grateful if he would wash one pan after dinner. “Wow,” I’d say. “He's washing a pan.”
I would feel grateful if he would fold the towels when we were putting the laundry away. “Wow, he's helping by folding laundry.” After a decade or so, I would feel grateful if he ordered pizza for my birthday, because that was a breadcrumb that meant he was trying.
I would love to say the breadcrumbing ended with my ex-husband, but after the divorce, my parents were breadcrumbing me like crazy.
I was craving support. I really needed their support. I needed financial support for my lawyer's fees. I needed help with the kids, because I had gone back to school, but they refused to watch the children at this point. They refused to help me in any way financially. They did not offer shelter. They did not offer anything substantive that would have actually provided relief. They didn't even give me any emotional support. Just a lot of judgment.
They thought it was a mistake that I was getting divorced and had so much unending sympathy for my ex-husband, they were unable to say anything kind to me. But they did take me out every other week with the children to get food at IHOP or Friendly's or some other local restaurant.
For that I was grateful.
I was so grateful for those breadcrumbs that I was okay breaking bread with my parents regularly even with them ripping on me throughout the meal. It happened at least 50% of the time. It was a big gossip session where they just ripped on me and felt sorry for my ex to the point that even my kids noticed my parents were mean.
But it was something, right? The closest thing to support they were ever going to provide.
Gaslighting Or Rewriting History
This happened at my prior workplace a lot.
I had this mentor who would give me instructions on how to do things like fill out paperwork. And I would fill out the paperwork exactly like she said. I would follow the rules exactly like she said.
Then, a few months later, she would come to me and tell me I had done something wrong with this paperwork. I would remind her of what she told me to begin with, outlining the direct instructions she gave me. I would point out how the paperwork exactly matched her directions. “You told me to do it this way.” And do you know what she would come back with?
“I never said that.”
Well, how do you argue with that? I basically did things the way I did them because she told me to do them that way, and she comes back a few months later and says, “I never said that.”
This is gaslighting.
Here’s another example: There was one day at my prior workplace, when I was gone but had left my teaching supplies out for the sub to use. When I came back the next day, my dry erase markers were dried up but the caps were all on. So you know that someone did that out of spite. You know that someone went through and took all the caps off of the dry erase markers on purpose so they would dry out, and then put all the caps back on on purpose. But I couldn’t say anything, because I knew if I said something, my coworkers would say, “Nobody touched your dry erase markers. You're just crazy.”
That’s gaslighting.
Another example of gaslighting occurred when I was trying to leave that job and was explaining to one of the people who have driven me out exactly what it felt like to be in my shoes. When I told her that I was receiving one set of instructions from her and a completely opposite set of directions from my mentor, explaining that this put me in a place where nothing I did was acceptable or right. She said, “I'm so sorry for trying to help you.”
Gaslighting. That is a perfect example of gaslighting.
My mother also gaslights. She is an expert at rewriting history. She will take what actually, truthfully happened and twist it into a lie after the fact. She writes public blog posts where all she does is recount history, twisting things to make herself look good and make you look bad.
When I first had trouble maintaining a relationship with my mother and my husband at the same time, I got to this point in the tug-of-war where I couldn't do it anymore. And I cut things off with her. It was a month or so before Christmas, and my parents were wanting to come by and interact, talk, and drop off presents and stuff.
That would’ve been fine if we were all on good terms and if I hadn't just asked them to give me space, but that wasn’t reality. Instead of completely backing off, my dad pressured me and pressured me, and pressured me to let him come over and just drop off gifts. “No chit chat, no visiting, I promise,” he said. “Just let me drop them off. I'll put them on the porch and leave.” I felt so bad for how everything had gone down and for the fact they'd gotten these gifts that I caved.
I was like, “Yeah, okay, you can do that.”
So my dad comes over and he drops off these gifts on the front porch. Then, several years later, after my parents and I are on speaking terms again, my mother writes a blog post where she details how her husband was brutally rejected by her daughter the day he drove to her house and put the gifts on the porch, then dejectedly turned around and walked back down to his car.
It was an indictment.
I didn't even want them to come and drop off gifts in the first place! I caved and she rewrote the narrative, leaving out over half the story to make it look like she was a victim. And she put it on her public blog… with my picture.
Moving The Goalposts
This happens all the time with my parents and it's one reason why I can't interact with them anymore. I don't have the ability to deal with the goalposts constantly moving. I know no matter what I do, it's never going to be good enough and they're always going to criticize it.
When I was pregnant and tired, I didn't necessarily want to go over to my mother's every week. Occasionally, I would tell her this by saying, “I don't feel good right now. I’m tired and morning sick. Not sure coming over is a good idea.”
And Mom would say, “Come over. Just come over. You should be with your family. You can take a nap. We can watch the kids. We can take care of you.” I took her at face value. So I would drive over there, sick and pregnant with a toddler. Or, when I got a little bit older and was still having babies, sick and pregnant with two or three little kids.
Of course I was tired.
I would maybe fall asleep on the couch, or I would let my dad play with the kids. They would go downstairs and play in the play area that had been designed with the grand kids in mind, because my mother had said, “Come over. Just come.”
Well, several years later, after my kids were a little bit older, my mom wrote a blog post about how I would only come to their house so I could fall asleep and they could babysit. It was really mean, and it made me feel terrible.
That’s one example of moving the goalposts.
I could go on for a while about the goal posts that have been moved by my parents over the years, but I think if I do, I'll just sound bitter and start feeling depressed. I don't want to do that. I want this podcast to be helpful to those who are experiencing these particular emotional abuse tactics.
Just know that you are good enough, and if you're in a relationship, any relationship--whether it be a friendship or workplace, a significant other or with your parents--where these kinds of tactics are used regularly to make you feel less than, that it's not good for you.
You have every right to put some boundaries into place
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