He didn’t hit me so I didn’t know it was abuse: How I prosecuted my coercive controlling partner and now help other women

Cases of coercive control are on the rise in the UK, with more than 45,000 offences recorded last year. Here, Annie* shares the toll a controlling husband took on her and their daughters.

Good Housekeeping/May 27, 2025

By Ellie Fennell

On the surface, my husband Tony and I appeared to have the perfect life. We had a nice home and two wonderful daughters, Maddi and Alexa. But behind closed doors, I was living in a constant state of anxiety. It can be hard to recognise abuse when you’re in a relationship, especially the slow erosion of confidence and independence that comes with coercive control. But I realise now that the warning signs were always there.

I met Tony when I was at university. It was my first serious relationship, and I was taken by his charm and attention. In hindsight, however, Tony’s affections were all-consuming, quickly leaving me isolated from friends as I quit my flat-share to move in with him and dropped out of my studies.

Tony didn’t like me going out without him, but socialising together could be hard. I dreaded nights out, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone as he’d shout at guys looking at me in bars, before apologising and saying it was just because he loved me so much. Even if there wasn’t a big scene, I’d feel his body language change at the smallest detail and would know he was unhappy with me.

After three years, Tony persuaded me to move closer to his relations in the north. He’d taken an immediate dislike to my family and was dismissive when I wanted to visit them on the south coast. With our relocation, my isolation worsened, while Tony’s drinking and controlling behaviour increased.

I was working in an opticians but gave up wearing makeup as he’d say I was dressing up for colleagues. I stopped laughing at TV shows as he’d accuse me of fancying actors. I missed school reunions and parties because his incessant calls and texts made enjoyment impossible. If I didn’t immediately pick up, he’d rage that I was sleeping with someone else.

Even when my Mum wrote to me, saying she felt she was losing me, Tony managed to talk his way around her concerns. I’d never discussed our issues with Mum, but she sensed things weren’t right. I’m grateful she never gave up on me.

The arrival of our daughters, Maddi and Alexa, in the early 2000s was both wonderful and tough. Tony was jealous of the attention I was giving them, so I developed coping strategies to manage their routine alongside his demands; reading to them before he got in and flexing bedtime. Wanting to limit Tony’s drinking, I used the girls as an excuse to return from playdates by 4pm, to be there when he got home.

As the girls became teens, covering up his behaviour got harder. I’d move pictures to hide holes he’d punched in walls, but they could hear the shouting from upstairs. I feared them thinking this was okay in a relationship, so insisted that Tony and I have counselling. Tony didn’t hit me, so I didn’t think of his behaviour as abuse, but I knew things needed to change.

As Covid hit in March 2020, the face-to-face counselling we’d started became impossible and Tony refused to see our counsellor on Zoom, so I asked to separate. Initially, it was amicable, until Tony sensed his loss of control and his behaviour escalated. Having never been allowed to lock the bathroom door (a ‘rule’ in his control of me), I did so one night to try and get away from things. I was terrified when he kicked the door in, and knew I had to leave.

In June of that year, I found a house to rent, frantically packed the last 20 years of my life into a few bags and escaped while Tony was at work. The girls, then teenagers, came with me, but they eventually decided they would split their time between me and Tony to support him. He’d never been aggressive to our children and I didn’t want them to lose all contact with their dad, but it was still hard as I worried about his behaviour escalating with them there.

Having a place of my own, I thought I was finally safe, but the abuse intensified. Having bullied my address out of the girls, Tony urinated on my front door, frequently harassed me at work and threatened to burn the house down. His 40-50 daily calls and texts were unbearable, including frequent suicide threats and accusations of infidelity. I finally dialled 999 in August after he barged in and kicked my legs from under me, sending me crashing to the floor.

The police were hugely supportive, arresting Tony before bailing him on the condition of no contact. Having broken bail almost immediately, he was rearrested and charged with harassment causing fear and malicious communication. In October 2020, Tony pleaded guilty to all charges and was sentenced to a community order and an indefinite restraining order banning all contact with me.

My girls are a huge support to me, and they’ve also maintained a relationship with their dad by putting boundaries in place around contact and acceptable behaviour. It can still be upsetting, but they’re getting better at predicting bad times – such as Christmas and their birthdays when emotions run high, and the girls can’t be with both of us at the same time. They’ve learnt to manage his behaviour and take time away from him if they need to.

I started working for a women’s domestic abuse charity in October 2022 and the girls, now in their 20s, also work here alongside me. Our lived experience helps us understand the unique challenges involved in leaving an abusive relationship. Events can occasionally feel close to home and trigger bad memories, but I’m fortunate to have had counselling to help me process that.

I only accessed domestic abuse support after things had come to a head and I was referred by the police. I wish I’d known what help was available, and sometimes I wish I’d left sooner, but I fear I’d then have returned. On average, it takes a woman seven attempts before she finally leaves an abusive relationship.

It’s taken time to rebuild my confidence and re-establish relationships, but it feels good to be living the life I want and looking positively at the future – a future where I’m the one in control.