At first, Maya didn’t want to use the word abuse.
She told herself she was overthinking. He was just angry, stressed, or tired. He never hit her. There were no bruises to point to. Just words. Words that cut her down, quietly and consistently.
When Maya got married, she thought she had found her forever person. She had fought for that love, convinced her family, moved countries and started a new life. The early days were full of warmth and laughter. She believed this was the life she had dreamed of.
But slowly, things changed. Her husband began correcting her, then criticizing her, then tearing her down over the smallest things.
Her cooking wasn’t good enough.
The house wasn’t clean enough.
She wasn’t enough.
A tongue can be sharper than a sword.
He was charming with others and wonderful with the children. But behind closed doors, his words became weapons. Sharp, unpredictable, and always finding a target.
Maya learned to anticipate his moods. She adjusted her tone, her laughter and her silence. She stopped disagreeing because it wasn’t worth the explosion that followed.
It was easier to stay quiet.
She told herself it wasn’t abuse because he didn’t hit her.
She told herself he was a good father.
She told herself things could be worse.
And when she gathered the courage to tell her parents, their response crushed her.
“As long as he’s not hitting you, just adjust. Marriage takes compromise.”
Adjust. That one word has kept generations of women in invisible cages.
Maya became a shadow of herself. Once vibrant and social, she now avoided friends, too drained to explain what was wrong. She had a full-time job, two children, and a constant sense of walking on eggshells. The version of herself she used to love, the one who laughed easily and dreamed freely, felt lost.
She began to believe what he said about her.
That she was the problem.
That she was too emotional.
But the truth is, “Maya is not the problem.”
And neither are the millions of women who live in silence because their pain doesn’t leave visible marks.
The Invisible bruises of verbal abuse
Unlike physical violence, verbal abuse doesn’t leave traces. It draws out your confidence, your joy, your sense of self. It’s subtle, often dismissed, and yet deeply damaging.
Over time, it can cause:
Emotional wounds: anxiety, depression, low self-worth
Psychological scars: PTSD, self-doubt, low self-esteem
Physical tolls: insomnia, chronic fatigue, eating issues
Social isolation: loss of friendships, fear of judgment
When someone keeps telling you that you are not enough, your mind eventually starts to believe it.
But here’s the truth no one told Maya soon enough. You don’t need bruises to justify your pain. If someone’s words make you feel small, scared, or worthless, that is abuse. Verbal abuse is abuse. Verbal abuse often operates subtly through criticism, gaslighting, and manipulation, wearing down a person’s self-confidence and mental health over time. And you deserve better.
If you see yourself in Maya’s story…
You are not alone. You are not weak. And you are not imagining it. Please reach out to a friend, a counselor, or a domestic violence hotline. Support doesn’t always start with leaving; sometimes it starts with simply telling someone what’s happening.
Healing begins when you stop believing their story about you and start writing your own again.
You have the right to peace. You have the right to be safe in your home, in your mind, in your heart.
If you know someone who can relate to this story, please share.
Signing out,
Sana