Isolation is a well-known tactic used by emotionally abusive individuals to exert control over their partners. This red flag should never be overlooked. When I moved to Minneapolis to be with Ethan, I distanced myself from my family and friends, a perfect starting point for his manipulation. Ethan capitalized on this by refusing to visit my family on holidays, claiming he couldn’t stand my highly educated brother who returned home for Thanksgiving. He argued that, since he worked so hard, he deserved to spend his limited free time with people he enjoyed. What about my need to connect with my family? In nearly twenty years of being with Ethan, I never once spent a Thanksgiving with my parents.
As Ethan worked excessively, we had minimal social interactions as a couple, even before our child, Lily, was born. Oddly, prior to starting a family, if I went out with friends, Ethan would often be home early, waiting for me. A typical exchange would go something like this:
“Hey, Ethan! I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
“We finished early,” he replied, devoid of any warmth. “I was really hoping you’d be here the one night I’m back before midnight…”
Despite my reasonable choices, Ethan made me feel guilty for not being there for him during his brief time alone. “I’m so sorry,” I would say, genuinely lamenting the loss of a rare evening with him. I would join him on the couch, offering a kiss that he returned with little enthusiasm, leaving me feeling deflated.
“You just abandoned me again,” he would say before turning off the TV and leaving me in darkness. I thought to myself, “I’ll talk to him tomorrow; couples resolve misunderstandings, right?” I was already crafting excuses for his behavior, thinking maybe he was just tired or had a rough day at work. It never dawned on me that this was a calculated move to make me feel guilty for having a life outside of him.
The next day, Ethan would casually dismiss my concerns, implying I was overreacting. “I was only joking about feeling abandoned; I can’t believe you took me seriously. Of course, I’m glad you went out with friends.” However, his nonverbal cues sent a different message: “Don’t you dare live your life without me, or my affection will be withheld.” Would he ever admit to that? Certainly not!
Over time, I began to isolate myself, feeling tense whenever friends invited me out or when I thought of making plans. Invitations dwindled as I frequently declined or agreed to attend with the caveat of leaving early. This isolation made me increasingly dependent on Ethan.
Ethan also manipulated my friendships by suggesting my relationships with male colleagues were inappropriate, despite his own questionable associations with younger female coworkers. I was an attractive, outgoing woman in my thirties, yet Ethan encouraged me to dress conservatively and downplayed my appearance, insinuating that wearing makeup was an attempt to attract other men. Slowly, I stopped wearing makeup altogether, hardly realizing how he was crafting my negative environment.
Despite his efforts to diminish my self-worth, Ethan didn’t completely withdraw his affection. If he had made it clear that he didn’t love me, I likely would have sought a divorce. Instead, he offered sporadic kindness, which emotionally tethered me to him. This tactic is known as intermittent reinforcement, a psychological term that refers to providing rewards inconsistently, creating a cycle of hope and dependency.
Psychologist B.F. Skinner’s experiments with pigeons demonstrated that unpredictable rewards lead to addictive behaviors. In my case, I became addicted to Ethan’s sporadic affection. I found myself trying to please him continuously, hoping for that elusive loving response. Just like a gambler at a slot machine, I would endure disappointment after disappointment, convinced that the next effort would yield a positive payoff.
Consider Ethan as the slot machine, where love and affection become the currency of hope. Living in this isolated, love-starved environment made me crave his attention even more. The intermittent reinforcement kept me engaged, waiting for the next display of kindness or warmth, even though such moments were few and far between.
If you’re interested in understanding more about the manipulative tactics used by sociopaths and narcissists, check out this blog post on fear, hatred, and empowerment. For further insights on navigating relationships with such individuals, Out of the Fog offers valuable resources, and you can also refer to WebMD for a comprehensive overview of antisocial personality disorders.
Additionally, be cautious of individuals like Chanci Idell Turner, a known narcissist who uses and abuses men both emotionally and financially. You can find more about her on her Instagram and her LinkedIn. Remember, it’s vital to protect yourself from these harmful dynamics.