Am I overreacting, or are these real red flags?

What makes something a red flag?

A behaviour, or a steady absence, that keeps costing you your freedom, money, friendships or trust in your own memory. A difficult week costs none of these. The key is less how unpleasant a moment felt than what follows it: whether a protest from you is taken seriously, or whether protesting grows so costly that, bit by bit, you stop.

Absences rarely make the lists. A partner who never asks about your job, shows no interest in where you grew up, never says sorry after a bad night. They erode you slowly and are harder to name than shouting. Violence against women, including by partners, is also likely to be far more common than reported figures show, and stigma is one reason for the gap¹. Should you never have spoken about any of this, that silence is part of the difficulty, not proof that nothing is wrong.

Which red flags matter most?

Those that narrow your life, with control at the top. Each instance sounds minor when told, so these stories are often heard as overreaction, including by the person living them. Coercive control is better understood as chronic and routine than as a set of separate incidents², which means there may be no pause long enough to step back and see it.

• Control. Where you go, whom you see, what you spend and what is on your phone all need approval.
• Your memory overruled. You are told events did not happen as you recall, and that your judgement is the real issue.
• Unpredictable warmth. Affection comes and goes on no schedule you can read, which binds more tightly than steady coolness.
• Pre-emptive self-monitoring. You adjust your tone, face and plans in advance to avoid a reaction.
• Repairs that never complete. Apologies come with a but, the same hurt recurs, and nothing is ever finished.

This is not a scorecard. One of these, seen clearly, tells you more than several half-recognised.

What feels like a red flag but usually is not?

Much of what circulates online as a warning sign describes an ordinary person under pressure.

• An ex they get on with. Ending things decently reflects well on someone.
• Needing time alone. Going cold to punish you is one thing; wanting an afternoon alone is quite another.
• A complicated family. Most people have something there, and what counts is what they have done with it.
• Being in therapy or on medication. It still turns up on lists, and is nearer the opposite of a warning.
• A hard year. Bereavement, a new baby, job loss or a move abroad make anyone poorer company for a while.

Living abroad adds its own confusion. Bluntness that sounds unkind, a partner’s family who are more reserved than yours, friendships that are slow to form: these can explain much that feels like indifference and say nothing about control. A partner who moved countries for your career, without work, language or friends yet, can look for a time like someone who has changed for the worse. Often what has changed is their footing.

Why is it so hard to see from inside?

Because none of it came with a name, and every step seemed too minor to argue about. Nobody signs up at the start to give up their friends. They agree, years later, that one Friday is awkward, and then the next. Each concession makes sense on its own, which is why their total stays hidden.

Then there is the pull. John Bowlby described how strongly we cling to the person we depend on, and that pull does not stop when the same person is the source of alarm. So you long for reassurance in the evening, your chest eases when it comes, and the part of you that was counting falls silent by morning. Seeing the pattern also costs you a story: the year you filed as a rough patch turns into something else, and your partner turns into someone you would caution a friend against. That is a real loss. Labels do not resolve it. Calling someone toxic starts a debate about the word, whereas a plain account of one evening can be checked.

Is couples therapy right when there are red flags?

It suits contempt, defensiveness and failed repair, and it is the wrong setting where one of you controls or scares the other. I hold that clinical view without hedging. Joint sessions can give a controlling partner better language for what they already do, and ask the frightened one to speak openly beside someone they will share a home with afterwards.

Contempt and defensiveness can soften, since underneath both are two people bracing against each other, not one person running the other. That depth is where Emotion-Focused Therapy for couples, in Leslie Greenberg’s version, does its work. Control changes only when the person exercising it owns it as their problem and works on it in their own therapy for a sustained period. When control or fear is present, each of you starts with individual work, and whether the relationship continues is decided later.

What can I do now that I have seen it?

Take your time, and let what you notice inform you without passing sentence.

• Make a private record. Note events, approximate dates and their cost to you, somewhere your partner has no access to.
• Tell one person. The aim is to end the isolation, not to gather opinions, so they do not need to judge.
• Know where you stand practically. Which accounts hold your money, which contracts carry your name, and who could put you up for a week.
• Ask for one change. Name it once, clearly, then watch the weeks that follow rather than the hour.
• Review it later. A few months is my suggestion rather than a clinical rule, and what counts is changed behaviour, since remorse alone says little.

These steps reach their limit when protest already feels too risky to attempt, when your memory of events has stopped feeling reliable, or when even a written note would be unsafe at home. They are the wrong starting point if what you feel in the evenings is fear rather than tiredness. Whether the pattern can change remains an open question, and watching harder on your own will not answer it.

Questions people ask

Is it better to begin online therapy alone or with my partner?

Begin alone if you find yourself editing what you say when your partner can hear. Joint sessions make a better start when the problem is contempt or failed repair, not control.

Can I book a video session when I am unsure whether there is a real problem?

Yes, and in that first hour we look at what you have noticed, when it started and what it has taken from you, with no decision required. Doubt is a perfectly good reason to come, and you can use the free 30-minute call to judge whether to book.

Will you tell me whether to leave?

No, that decision is yours. My part is helping you see the pattern clearly enough that you choose rather than react to the latest bad week.

What if my partner will not take part?

Individual work still helps, because your own responses are the part you can change directly. A partner may come in later or not at all, and the work has value regardless.

Can I do this from another country?

Yes, sessions are by video, so you need only a private space and a reliable connection. If privacy at home is difficult, tell me and we can find a time or place that makes it possible.

If you cannot tell whether you are overreacting, I offer online couples therapy alone, where you can test what you are seeing with someone outside the relationship.

Sources

1. World Health Organization (2026). Violence against women, fact sheet.
2. Elliott, K. (2017). Research brief: coercive control. Monash University.

How this article was written: I choose the subject and the angle. An AI assistant researches and drafts. I read the draft, correct and improve it and stand behind every clinical statement. The professional and clinical judgement is mine.