“You didn’t develop a need for control. You developed a strategy to survive chaos.” -Dr. Thema Bryant

My Interpretation: I did not want to be in charge of everything. I did not need the routines. I was not “too Type A.” I was terrified. That control people saw in me? It was a shield. A silent contract with myself: If I can just keep everything perfect, maybe I will not get hurt. I did not become meticulous; I became strategic. It was not preference. It was not personality. It was protection. & now that I see it, I will not let anyone call it “quirky” again.

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What They Called Control Was Actually Survival

Series 6: When Survival Was Mistaken for Control – Part One

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“I never had OCD tendencies before him.”

That sentence keeps echoing in my chest.
& when it landed…
I mean really landed…
I had to sit down.

Because what I used to call quirks, or habits, or just the way I am…
Was not any of that.

It was survival.
Dressed up as precision.
Disguised as being “in control.”

But I was not in control.

I was being controlled.

When I look back at who I was before him - really look -
≫ I see someone who was spontaneous.
≫ Someone who could leave dishes in the sink.
≫ Someone who did not spiral if the laundry was not folded perfectly.
≫ Someone who did not live in a constant state of subconscious fear.

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The Patterns That Were Not Mine

It happened slowly.
The way all dangerous things do.
Not in one big crash - 
but in a thousand quiet edits to who I was.

I started checking things.
Making sure I did tasks “right.”
Over-apologizing for things I was not responsible for.
Keeping mental tallies of what I had or had not done - because if I forgot, he would not.

I did not want control.
I wanted less conflict.
I wanted less punishment.
I just wanted the day to pass without the cold silence.
Without the slammed doors.
Without the comments that made me feel like a burden in my own skin.

But people did not see that.

They saw:
• A mom who had it all together
• A “Type A” woman
• A “little OCD”
• Someone who “just needs to feel in control”

& I laughed along with them.
Because I was too tired to explain.
Because it was easier to pretend it was a personality trait than admit I was walking on glass.
Even when it hurt.

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The Joke That Was Not Funny

There is something gut-wrenching about watching people laugh at the exact thing that is unraveling you.

It makes you feel invisible.

It makes you question yourself - again.

They joked about:

↪︎ My routines

↪︎ My planning

↪︎ My cleaning

↪︎ My rechecking

They teased me for being too organized, too particular, too much.

But here is the part that really breaks me:

None of them noticed I did not used to be that way.   

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Why Did They Not Notice?

I have sat with this question longer than I wanted to.
& it keeps hitting in waves:

→ Why did they not notice I changed?
→ Why did anyone not ask why I suddenly became so rigid?
→ Why did my friends not check in when I started disappearing into routines & rituals?

Maybe they were just used to me adjusting to survive.
Maybe they saw me managing & thought that meant I was okay.

Maybe I looked functional enough that they did not want to push.

Or maybe no one ever taught them what trauma looks like when it is quiet.

Because when trauma does not scream…
˃ When it folds the towels just right,
˃ When it lines up the spices alphabetically,
˃ When it apologizes first,
˃ When it avoids eye contact but shows up anyway -
People do not see it.

But I did.
Eventually.
& now that I see it?
I cannot unsee it.

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The Grief Of Misunderstanding

I am grieving the parts of myself I had to erase just to get through the day.
I am grieving the friends who meant well but did not look deeper.
I am grieving the version of me that got rewritten by survival instinct & called it a personality.

& maybe…
I am grieving that no one else grieved her too.

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I did not become this way because I am “high-strung.”
I became this way because I was being broken down systematically.

& now that I have named it - 
I can finally start to rebuild what was mine all along.

If you have ever been called:
“Too particular,”
“Too controlling,”
“Too much” …
But deep down you know it was never about control -
it was about survival -
You are not alone.

Xoxo ♡