The Kind of Abuse No One Calls Abuse

There’s a version of harm that doesn’t leave bruises.

It doesn’t scream.
It doesn’t announce itself.
It doesn’t even look like abuse at first glance.

It looks like smiling while overstepping.
It looks like money borrowed and later redefined.
It looks like expectations that were never agreed to but somehow always assumed.
It looks like adult daughters carrying emotional weight that was never theirs.
It looks like tension that no one names but everyone feels.

And because it’s subtle, it’s confusing.

For 27 years, I’ve stood behind a salon chair listening to women tell the truth about their lives. Not the polished version. The real one. The resentment toward a parent. The ache over a strained relationship with a child. The quiet grief of realizing someone you love does not know how to love you well.

And here’s what I’ve learned.

Most women don’t struggle because they’re unaware.

They struggle because they’re dysregulated.

You can understand boundaries.
You can read the books.
You can know exactly what you should say.

But when your nervous system is triggered, your rational mind goes offline.

I had to learn this the hard way.

For years, I blamed my father for what I didn’t receive. I told myself the story that if he had shown up differently, my life would feel easier. That resentment felt justified. But it also kept me powerless.

The shift happened when I stopped waiting for him to change and started taking responsibility for my own responses, my own boundaries, my own healing.

Not in a harsh, self-blaming way.

In a regulated, grounded way.

And that distinction matters.

Because personal responsibility without regulation turns into shame.
Personal responsibility with regulation turns into power.

That’s why my work begins in the body.

Through daily Ashtanga yoga.
Through mindfulness.
Through learning interpersonal effectiveness skills that actually work in real conversations.
Through practicing the pause before you react.

When your body feels safe, your choices change.

When your nervous system is steady, your voice becomes clearer.

When you are regulated, you stop trying to force connection and start creating it.

If this resonates with you, I share reflections like this every week inside my email community.

This is where I speak more personally.
Where I share lived experiences.
Where I teach what I’m practicing in real time.

If you want to explore emotional regulation, relationship repair, and embodied responsibility in a grounded and honest way, I would love to have you inside.

Join the newsletter and become part of this community of women devoted to doing the work from the inside out.

With steadiness,
Mandi