The First Time Love Felt Like Control: A Journey to Freedom

In the beginning, I didn’t see it for what it was. I thought it was love. The attention, the way he wanted to know where I was, who I was with, and what I was doing. It almost felt flattering. To my younger self, it looked like care. It looked like passion. It looked like proof that I mattered to him.

But the first time love felt like control, something shifted inside me. It was a small moment, one that might not have seemed significant to anyone else. A sharp comment about what I was wearing. A suspicious question about who had just called my phone. A long silence meant to make me feel guilty. These moments carried a weight that love shouldn’t have. I remember brushing it off, telling myself, He’s just protective. He just cares too much.

That's how control often enters. Quietly, disguised as devotion.

Recognizing the Signs of Control

At first, I convinced myself it was normal. Everyone has quirks in relationships, right? Everyone argues, everyone gets jealous. But the check-ins turned into interrogations. The “caring” turned into guilt trips that left me questioning myself. What had once felt like being cherished soon became suffocating. And slowly, almost without noticing, I began to shrink.

Looking back, I see the pattern now. Love was supposed to feel safe, but instead, it felt conditional. His moods dictated my choices. His questions determined my freedom. I learned to think twice before speaking, before wearing something, before making plans. I wasn’t free. I was monitored. And each time I gave in to the control, I lost a piece of myself.

I can still feel the weight of that silence inside me. The way I held back my words to keep the peace, the way I second-guessed my instincts just to avoid conflict. I thought compromise was the cost of love. But in reality, I was silencing myself out of fear.

The Body Knows

Even before my mind admitted it, my body knew the truth. I would feel a knot in my stomach every time I had to explain myself. My chest would tighten when I saw his name flash across my phone, unsure if it would be a kind word or another accusation. My body carried the stress of constantly walking on eggshells, even when I told myself everything was fine.

That’s the thing about control; it doesn’t just take your voice; it weighs on your body. Love should feel like freedom in your chest, not heaviness. Love should make your spirit expand, not contract.

What I Would Tell My Younger Self

If I could go back to that girl, the one who mistook control for care, I would take her hand and whisper:

You don’t need to be watched to be loved.

You don’t need to be questioned to be valued.

It

I would tell her that when “love” feels like walking on eggshells, it isn’t love. When you’re afraid to be fully yourself, it isn’t love. When your choices, your friendships, your clothing, your freedom are slowly stripped away under the disguise of “protection,” it isn’t love.

To Anyone Reading This

Maybe you’ve felt it too. That subtle shift when affection turns into control. Maybe you’ve brushed it off like I did, telling yourself it’s just jealousy, just passion, just a phase. But deep down, you know the difference. Your body knows. If love feels like control, it isn’t love. Control wears the mask of love, but underneath it is fear, insecurity, and power.

Naming it is the first step to healing.

I share this because I know how isolating it feels when your love story turns into a cage. You begin to question yourself. You wonder if you’re overreacting. You convince yourself to stay silent just to avoid another argument. But silence only deepens the control.

You are not overreacting. You are not too sensitive. You are not asking for too much. You deserve love that feels like freedom.

My Awakening

The first time love felt like control was the beginning of my silence. But it was also the seed of my awakening. Even though I didn’t act on it right away, some part of me knew. That quiet discomfort was my soul whispering that something wasn’t right. It took me years to listen. It took me years to gather the courage to break free. But that moment, the first time love felt like control, was when the truth began to reveal itself to me.

And now, I share that truth with you: real love does not require you to disappear. If this resonates with your heart, know that you are not alone. There are resources waiting for you, on my website, in my book, in meditations I’ve created, and in communities of survivors who understand. You don’t have to carry this in silence anymore.

The first time love felt like control, I didn’t see it. But now I name it. And naming it is how I began to reclaim my voice.

A Poem for Reflection

The First Time Love Felt Like Control

It was subtle at first.

A gentle hand guiding mine,

A suggestion, a smile,

A "maybe you should..."

Draped in velvet concern.

I mistook it for care,

For the warmth of belonging,

Not noticing the slow tightening

Of invisible strings.

Love, I thought,

Was meant to hold you close.

Not hold you back,

Not shape your words,

Or shrink your world

To fit inside someone else's palm.

But the first time love felt like control,

It wore the mask of protection,

And I, eager for affection,

Didn't see the difference

Until I felt the weight

Of my own silence.