There’s a peculiar comfort in the familiar, even when that familiarity brings us pain. For people trapped in controlling relationships, the cycles of conflict can become so normalized that freedom seems more frightening than continued captivity. Like a bird that’s spent years in a cage, the wide-open sky can feel overwhelmingly vast and uncertain. This psychological phenomenon explains why so many remain in situations that diminish their sense of self, their confidence, and ultimately, their ability to envision a different life.
“The things that were most familiar for me were the cycles of conflict and peace and the false peace,” Kori Tomelden shares, reflecting on her 12-year controlling relationship. “It wasn’t peace, it was false peace, but it was just those cycles and waiting for the other shoe to drop… And when we weren’t in those cycles of direct conflict, during the false peace, that’s when I felt the most on edge.” These patterns of tension, explosion, and temporary calm create a hypervigilant state where a person becomes accustomed to constantly monitoring their behavior, anticipating criticism, and living in fear of the next confrontation.
Breaking free from these patterns requires more than just physical separation – it demands a profound rewiring of expectations and beliefs about relationships, self-worth, and personal potential. But what happens when we finally gather the courage to step beyond the boundaries that have contained us? How does reclaiming independence transform not just our circumstances, but our very understanding of ourselves?
The Invisible Chains of Controlling Relationships
For Tomelden, financial control became one of the most obvious manifestations of this dynamic. “It was the access to finances or demands to be transparent,” she explains, describing how her partner would place “guilt and blame” with implications that her income wasn’t coming from legitimate sources. This form of financial abuse – questioning the origin of earnings, limiting access to funds, or demanding exhaustive explanations for expenses – serves to keep someone dependent and insecure.
Social isolation represents another powerful method of control that often develops so gradually the person doesn’t realize how restricted their world has become. “I started by choice, minimizing my own social life and where I was going and who I was spending time with,” Tomelden recalls. This self-restriction evolved to such an extent that “for the majority of the past two or three years, the only places I’ve really gone are Sundays on church and then leaving the house for about 15, 20 minutes to go pick up my daughter from school.”
Amy Stone asks a pivotal question to help illuminate the depth of this pattern: “Do you have a history of being in a high conflict relationship as a kid or surrounded by conflict?” This question highlights how our early experiences shape our expectations, often creating unconscious templates for future relationships. When someone grows up with healthy relationship models but finds themselves accepting increasingly controlling dynamics, it creates a dissonance that can be difficult to reconcile.
The Weight of Expectations and Societal Pressures
Our expectations about relationships don’t form in isolation. They’re shaped by family experiences, cultural messages, and societal norms that can sometimes trap us in unhealthy situations.
“Do you think that you have an idea that you picked up along the way that the definition of a good marriage and a good person and a good family is one that is forever?” Stone asks. Tomelden’s immediate response is revealing: “Absolutely. I think that was kind of ingrained that you get married once and you stay married, and if you don’t, then there’s absolutely something wrong with you.”
This belief – that relationship longevity equals success regardless of quality – keeps countless people in damaging situations. It transforms the natural human desire for connection into a rigid standard that prioritizes endurance over wellbeing. Even more telling is Tomelden’s admission that since age 14, she had “only been single for six months” across her entire adult life. The fear of independence and being without a partner had become so ingrained that singlehood represented failure rather than an opportunity for growth and self-discovery.
These expectations become particularly complicated for people who are neurodivergent. Tomelden’s eventual diagnosis with AUDHD (a combination of autism and ADHD) provided crucial context for understanding her experiences. “The biggest piece of it for me was that I finally had not an excuse, but, like, not even a reason, but just some kind of anchor as to why my brain worked the way it did,” she explains. This self-knowledge became foundational to her journey toward independence.
The Turning Point: From Fear to Empowerment
The decision to leave a controlling relationship rarely happens in a single, dramatic moment. Instead, it often emerges through a gradual accumulation of realizations, conversations, and small acts of courage.
For Tomelden, an important catalyst came from finally opening up about her situation. “I internalized so much about it because I felt shame around it,” she says. “Once I finally started talking about it and looking back on the things that I was saying, if my best friend had come to me and told me what was going on in their relationship… I would have asked them, one, I’m not judging you, but why are you still in this? And two, how can I help you leave?”
This external perspective – imagining how she would counsel a friend in her situation – created the distance needed to see her relationship clearly. It’s a powerful technique that helps many people recognize when a situation has become harmful, bypassing the rationalizations we often create to justify staying.
The next hurdle involved confronting specific fears about independence. “My biggest fears were the finances. Like, how am I going to make it work financially? Until I actually looked at my finances and realized, wait, I can support myself,” she recalls. This realization – that financial independence was possible – dismantled one of the primary barriers keeping her trapped.
Another fear centered on the practical aspects of independent living. “I never have,” Tomelden admits when discussing living alone. “I’m an adult who had to Google how often do I have to vacuum my living room carpet.” This fear of the unknown – of handling life’s practical demands without a partner – keeps many people in relationships long past their expiration date.
Rebuilding Identity and Confidence
The aftermath of leaving a controlling relationship involves more than just establishing a new living situation. It requires rebuilding a sense of self that may have been systematically diminished over years.
For Tomelden, this rebuilding process was “affirming for me that I could be independent, that I wasn’t going to struggle, that my kids weren’t going to struggle.” This growing confidence created a positive feedback loop: “It restored a lot of my own self-confidence and my self-esteem, which I had been working on to that point anyway.”
This restoration of self-worth represents one of the most profound transformations that occurs when someone reclaims their independence. As Stone observes, “when you’re making decisions that are not in your own best interest, you’re not being compassionate to yourself, you’re not being kind to yourself.” The journey from self-neglect to self-compassion marks a fundamental shift in one’s relationship with themselves.
Neurodivergence adds another dimension to this rebuilding process. For Tomelden, her diagnosis provided a framework for understanding her needs and creating environments that supported rather than hindered her functioning. “How do I further adapt my environment? How do I create this ideal work schedule? How do I do other things to support myself?” These questions led her toward designing a life that accommodated her authentic self rather than forcing herself to fit into structures that caused distress.
Creating a New Future
Perhaps the most inspiring aspect of reclaiming independence is the opportunity to envision and create a different future – not just for oneself, but potentially for others.
Tomelden now works as an “ODHD empowerment coach for neurodivergent women, many of whom are late diagnosed or are self-diagnosing later in life because they are watching their kids go through a diagnosis.” This professional path allows her to transform her difficult experiences into support for others facing similar challenges.
Her coaching focuses on “supporting your emotional regulation, your executive functioning, designing systems that support you and work with you, not against you… dismantling a lot of the internalized ableism and shame that we’ve come up with.” This work represents a powerful reclamation of agency – taking the very aspects of herself that were once used against her and turning them into sources of strength and connection.
Equally important is the intergenerational impact of breaking free from controlling dynamics. “I’ve been actually talking to my daughter about [healthy relationships] to normalize with her,” Tomelden shares. “She’s witnessed a lot in this relationship. And I very explicitly told her, I’m like, this is not okay, and if somebody ever does this to you, leave.” By modeling the courage to prioritize her wellbeing, she offers her daughter a different template for relationships than the one she initially inherited.
Embracing the Unknown
Breaking free from a controlling relationship means stepping into uncertainty. It means facing the practical challenges of independence – learning to drive after depending on others for transportation, managing a household alone, rebuilding social connections, and developing new routines. But it also means discovering capabilities that may have been dormant or dismissed.
“I’m pretty resourceful and I know who I would have to call to come help with these things or to figure it out on my own,” Tomelden reflects when discussing her fears about living independently. This growing trust in her ability to solve problems – either through her own skills or by reaching out for appropriate help – represents a profound shift from the helplessness that controlling relationships often foster.
Independence doesn’t mean isolation. Rather, it means having the freedom to choose connections based on mutual respect and support rather than dependency and domination. It means recognizing that vulnerability can exist alongside strength, and that asking for help is different from surrendering autonomy.
The journey from control to freedom isn’t linear or simple. It involves setbacks, doubts, and moments of fear. But with each step toward greater self-determination, the capacity for joy, authentic connection, and personal fulfillment expands. As Tomelden now advises others: “you can take up space and you should take up space. Don’t let someone else tell you you can’t when you know you can.”
This transformation – from questioning one’s worth to standing firmly in one’s power – may begin with leaving a controlling relationship, but its effects ripple outward into every aspect of life. In reclaiming independence, we don’t just change our circumstances; we rediscover and reshape ourselves.
This article was inspired by a thought-provoking interview with Kori Tomelden and Amy Stone on The Art of Imperfect Adulting podcast. To hear more compelling conversations like this one and receive special offers from our guests directly to your inbox, join our email community today.