Insights on Abuse & Recovery

Insights on Abuse & Recovery

Clarity Series: The Language of Control, 150 Examples of Verbal Abuse

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Shadows of Control
Jan 30, 2026
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What you’ll find in this Clarity Series post

  • My experience of living with verbal abuse, including how it showed up in my marriage and why it was so difficult to recognise at the time.

  • A clear distinction between normal arguments and verbal abuse, and what separates ordinary conflict from language used to control, diminish, or harm.

  • An explanation of how verbal abuse operates as both emotional abuse and psychological abuse.

  • A downloadable checklist of 150 examples of verbally abusive language, organised by type, to support clarity and pattern recognition.


When something feels wrong but you cannot yet name it

For a long time, I knew that something in my marriage was profoundly wrong, even if I could not yet name it as abuse. I lived in a constant state of tension and unease, a feeling that conversations could turn hostile at any moment, and that disagreements never seemed to resolve anything but instead left me feeling smaller, quieter, and more uncertain of myself.

On the surface, much of what was happening looked like conflict that exists in many relationships. Voices were raised. Tempers flared. Harsh words were exchanged. I assumed that what I was experiencing must simply be part of being in a long term relationship, something difficult but normal, something to endure rather than question.

How verbal abuse showed up in my relationship

My husband would regularly insult me. He told me I was stupid, delusional, selfish, undesirable, unintelligent and “incapable of understanding anything”. He said that I belonged in the Stone Age and that speaking to me was like talking to a five year old. He regularly made derogatory comments about my clothes, my abilities, my friends, and my family.

He would rage, shout, belittle, and insult me, but if I showed even the slightest hint of anger in response, he would tell me that I was crazy, insane, or had “serious psychological issues”. My emotions were not treated as human reactions to ongoing provocation, but as evidence that something was fundamentally wrong with me.

Alongside this, he used commanding, entitled language as a matter of course, telling me to do this, get him that, or come here, rather than asking or using basic courtesy. Over time, this way of speaking became normalised, even though it left me feeling reduced and invisible.

But it was not only the insults or the tone. It was the way conversations could be twisted beyond recognition. I might raise a concern about his behaviour, only to have the discussion turn into an interrogation of my character. He would manipulate, undermine, dismiss, blame, accuse, or flip the situation entirely until I found myself apologising for something I had not done.

Then there were the threats. Some were explicit, such as “If you do not do this, I will tell our son you do not care about him.” Others were veiled, wrapped in ominous language like “I hope you can deal with the consequences that will come to you.” Whether direct or indirect, the message was the same. Compliance was expected, and resistance would be punished.

The difference I could see clearly, even then

Despite the severity of his language, I did not immediately recognise what I was living with as verbal abuse. What I did see very clearly, even at the time, was a fundamental difference in how conflict unfolded depending on who was the one that was angry.

When I was upset, I would raise specific behaviours or situations I was unhappy with. I tried to explain what had happened, why it affected me, and what I was concerned about. My focus was always on actions, patterns, and impact. When he was angry, his focus was not on resolving anything. It was to attack me as a person.

That difference stood out to me long before I had any formal understanding of abuse. I could see that my anger led to discussion about behaviour, while his anger led to character attacks. I did not yet know what to call that difference, but I knew instinctively that the two were not the same.

What I was noticing then would later become one of the clearest ways I understood the difference between ordinary conflict and verbal abuse.

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