Reclaiming Your Voice: A Survivor’s Reflection
- jenniferwomensvoic
- Mar 27
- 7 min read
My guest today is Vanessa Salvatore, a practitioner in integrative body psychotherapy and writer from Quebec, Canada, currently working on her debut memoir.
After connecting on LinkedIn, we decided to highlight her experience and interest in empowering survivors as a fitting ending to the “Reclaim Your Voice” series. Vanessa's story provides both hope to survivors who experience coercive control and information for therapists who serve them.
Note: Everyone’s situation is different. Survivors and therapists should follow their instincts about what are appropriate actions and take from this conversation what is helpful to them.
Vanessa's Story
"We respond only to harm that is extreme and has been explicitly named for us, whereas we ignore the subtler ways in which harm occurs and intensifies. We do not understand how harmful relationships develop or how they progress; we do not recognize early signs of violence or practice strategies that might help us end it before tragedy or trauma strikes.”[i]
This quote from Kai Cheng Thom fits my bewildering experience of being in a coercive relationship. It points to the intense disbelief that I was in a relationship marked by control and manipulation, and the overwhelming confusion that clouded my understanding of what I once thought was love. This mix of disbelief and confusion obscured the abuse, preventing me from seeing the psychological violence for what it was.
When I ask myself why I lived within abusive circumstances, my answers flash back to amorous experiences that, in hindsight, I now see as red-flag moments. Like the bouquet Jacob gave me on our first date, the flowers sent to my office, and the endless love poems, along with promises of a future together within just weeks of courtship. No single gesture was problematic but together these represented pressure to commit. I mistook love bombing for romance.
And then there are the good memories, those moments you hold onto tightly, wondering about the glimpses of love amidst all the coercion. Once I recognized Jacob’s behavior as abuse and summoned the courage to acknowledge and speak about the invisible violence, the confusion did not end there. It deepened.
I found myself trapped in a spiral, asking, can abuse and love really co-exist? My mind became tangled, struggling to reconcile these two conflicting truths, unable to make sense of the paradox.
What’s worse was the shame; it hit me like a gut punch, relentless and unforgiving as I found myself trapped in a coercive relationship.
The internal dialogue was harsh: How could I have fallen for it? How could I be so foolish? Something’s wrong with me. This voice of self-criticism never let up, echoing constantly in my mind. Shame settled in the pit of my stomach, churning with judgments that slowly chipped away at my self-esteem and sense of self-worth.
Being with Jacob placed me in a constant state of inner conflict. Whenever I said no to anything, I was consumed with anxiety about Jacob’s reaction and the potential consequences.
While the repercussions were not physically violent, scornful looks and gaslighting remarks like “You’re always criticizing me and never grateful” undermined my self-trust.
Communicating my needs was like walking on eggshells, unsure of how the smallest boundary would be met or manipulated. Setting boundaries to protect and care for myself, while also showing my partner that I was there for him, was incredibly difficult.
Actually, it was impossible.
Constant disrespect and boundary violations wore me down. No matter how clear or firm I was, Jacob persisted in crossing the line, leaving me torn between my needs and the pressure to keep giving.
No matter how hard I tried, what approach I took, how caring or communicative I was, Jacob responded with false accusations and vilifying remarks. It was always a losing battle.
I was faced with either not setting limits or summoning the courage to continue setting them, knowing full well the consequences.
Boundary Setting
I know how dangerous boundary-setting can be. How did you protect yourself when you set them?
Looking back, I can see that I used a combination of strategies to protect myself. At times I intentionally stayed silent and was careful with my words in an effort to prevent situations from escalating or giving more information that could be used to manipulate. This required mindful restraint.
Other times, I did speak up and repeated my limits. My response depended on the level of conflict and my capacity to stay firm and non-reactive.
I also confided in my closest friends about what was happening, which helped me stay grounded and maintain perspective. I saw a psychotherapist weekly who supported me. I developed a safety plan and sought support from people I trusted.
When I started to feel physically unsafe and unable to live with the disorientation of constant manipulation, I told my friends I was moving in a week (when, where, how). They checked in with me daily.
I also let Jacob know that I was moving out by Saturday and did not offer any other information, which in retrospect made it more dangerous. I thought I was setting a clear boundary, but what it did instead was trigger emotional escalation. During that time, he pushed to renegotiate our finances and investments, and through sustained manipulation over the course of that week, I ended up signing a document that resulted in me losing all profit from my share in the property.
Reclaiming Your Voice
What helped you in reclaiming your voice?
What helped me move forward in my life was realizing that I had been repeating an old family and relational pattern, and that I was not to blame for it.
My first relationship was an abusive one, and sadly, that experience left a lasting imprint on every relationship that followed. Being a teenager caught in a highly coercive relationship for four years shaped me in ways I couldn’t fully understand at the time. It molded me to tolerate those patterns again with Jacob, preparing me subconsciously for the repetition I never saw coming.
I was conditioned to accept manipulation, to question myself constantly, to endure things I knew weren’t right. Those same projections my coercive partner fed me echoed in my thoughts, intensifying my insecurities. Despite therapy, those old wounds, along with deeply rooted familial patterns of abuse, resurfaced, making me wonder: Why can’t I get this right?
I initially felt humiliated, knowing I repeated a pattern I swore to break. But my past experience also left me with something else. An exit plan. I learned from my past how to react quickly and leave when the danger intensified.
Books also empowered me. bell hooks wrote that abusers rooted in domination often project their own woundedness onto others, turning them into the villain so they never have to face their own brokenness.
I recognized Lundy Bancroft’s description of how distortions and rewritten histories are designed to make the victimized partner look unreasonable while the controlling one plays the wronged party.
Harriet Lerner reminded me that when a woman finally sets a boundary, those invested in maintaining the status quo often respond with criticism, blame, and character attacks meant to push her back into place.
After leaving that coercive relationship with Jacob, I felt a deep desire to live a life that was more aligned with who I truly am and with my spirit. That meant recognizing that any relationship or situation that dimmed my light was something I needed to reconsider.
It also led to my purpose now: speaking my truth, embracing all of who I am, and surrounding myself with healthy, nourishing relationships.
In my memoir, I explore how cultural narratives about love can blur the line between care and control, making it difficult to name what is happening while we are still inside it. The relational rules we learn to follow often do not teach us to recognize coercion in relationships. Our culture romanticizes persistence, intensity, and sacrifice in love. We, especially women, are socialized to doubt our perceptions, to prioritize harmony, to give the benefit of the doubt.
I came to see with clarity that I used this dark experience to grow and guide me toward choices that support living a life that feels like my own.
Vanessa, your story highlights how important building supportive social relationships and learning to accept and trust yourself are. Thank you for sharing your experience that demonstrates what I’ve seen in so many survivors—strength and resilience. Each person’s story is different, but taking back the power to tell it is what empowerment is about. I look forward to reading your memoir.
Bio
Vanessa Salvatore is an educator in Special Education Techniques and a practitioner of Integrative Body Psychotherapy whose work bridges education, embodied healing, and reflective writing. She teaches at the college level and works with individuals in private practice, guiding people to better understand the relationship between emotional experience, nervous system regulation, and the wisdom of the body.
Vanessa is currently writing a memoir that explores her experience in a coercive relationship and the long, intricate journey of reclaiming autonomy, voice, and a sense of home within her own body. Her writing reflects a deep curiosity about how personal stories, embodied experience, and emotional awareness intertwine in the unfolding process of healing.
Website: www.vanessasalvatore.com
Social Media Links:
Instagram: Healing_Vitality_Freedom
[i] Thom, K. C. (2019). I hope we choose love: A trans girl's notes from the end of the world. Vancouver, BC: Arsenal Pulp Press.
Note to Readers
This ends the Reclaiming Your Voice series. Previous episodes are available on my website. The next series, Empowering Survivors, addresses how therapists can guide survivors in reclaiming their voices and healing.
If you appreciate clinically grounded insight for working with survivors of intimate partner abuse, you are warmly welcome to join my newsletter community, where I share resources with therapists and survivors.
Comments