'I was stuck in a toxic relationship that wasn't romantic. I still couldn't leave.'

If you want to support independent women's media, become a Mamamia subscriber. Get an all-access pass to everything we make, including exclusive podcasts, articles, videos and our exercise app, MOVE.

Alice* was the kind of daughter other parents longed for. Polite, trouble-free, a high academic performer. But behind closed doors, Alice was playing a role she never wanted.

"I wasn't a child. I was the one monitoring the mood, softening the tension, making sure nothing broke the surface," she says. "I was holding the emotional structure together." But, she wasn't allowed to show emotion herself.

An only child, Alice was expected to be seen and not heard. She wasn't allowed to have friends over, there was no chaos in the house, but no fun either. There was simply quiet compliance.

Watch: Nicole LePera on how to break the cycle of trauma bonds & stop toxic relationship habits. Post continues below.

She felt loved, in a way. She was fed, clothed, never physically harmed, but there was no room for her to be who she really was.

"I looked like I was thriving. I knew how to perform it. But no one asked what was underneath," she says.

So, years later, when she connected with two older mentors in a professional capacity, it felt meaningful. They were experienced, generous with their advice, and genuinely interested in Alice's potential. The relationship began with encouragement and opportunity. But soon, things changed.

"It started gently. Just phone calls. Check-ins. Then it became daily. Then constant. And suddenly, it wasn't optional anymore," says Alice.

The pressure was subtle, she says. Unspoken expectations, guilt when she didn't pick up the phone, silence when she asserted herself. She began adjusting her plans just in case they needed something.

"I remembered that feeling from home — how a missed call felt like a warning. How everything good could disappear if I didn't come back on time."

Even though Alice was technically working for this couple, her hourly rate was just $1. Yet she kept showing up. "It wasn't just about helping," she says. "It was about being needed. And once I was needed, I couldn't say no."

Her identity began to collapse into the role she played for them — capable, responsive, and always available. She abandoned her own projects, her health declined, and she gained a significant amount of weight.

"My throat told the truth. It flared after every silence or conflict. Not from illness. From suppression."

Eventually, even her body refused to cooperate. "I wasn't tired. I was disconnected. Life felt like something I had to perform, not live." And still, she stayed. Most likely, because she was trauma-bonded.

Trauma bonds aren't just romantic.

When most people think of trauma bonds, they picture volatile or toxic romantic relationships. But according to psychologist, Phoebe Rogers, trauma bonds can be just as intense, and damaging, outside of romance.

"I see it all the time in female friendships, in workplace hierarchies, between mentors and mentees," she says. "They don't have to be sexual or romantic to be consuming.

In fact, some of the most devastating trauma bonds happen when we think we've finally found someone who gets us. "At its core, a trauma bond forms when someone in the present evokes the same emotional landscape as someone in our past, often a parent or caregiver linked to early trauma. It can feel like instant connection: 'You just get me', 'It's like we've known each other forever'.

"In schema therapy, we call this schema chemistry," Rogers explains. "It's when someone lights up your unresolved patterns, usually from childhood. Maybe you're drawn to someone who's charismatic and entitled, because they remind you of a parent whose approval you never got. At first, it feels like love, but soon you're walking on eggshells, doing everything to stay in their orbit."

And that's the trap: they give you just enough keep you hooked. But when the dynamic shifts, when you express a need or a boundary, the warmth disappears. That inconsistency becomes addictive.

"This is called intermittent reinforcement," she says. "It's the same psychological mechanism behind gambling addiction. You keep trying, because sometimes it works. That 'maybe' keeps people stuck for years."

Trauma bonds often form in relationships with an imbalance of power — a coach, a boss, a mentor, even a friend with social status or dominance. Over time, the person bonded to them will begin to change their behaviours, beliefs, and even values to maintain the connection.

"You might start ignoring your own needs, just to avoid rupture. You blame yourself when things go wrong. You excuse their behaviour, because you know their trauma, and your empathy turns into over-functioning."

In healthy relationships, conflict can be resolved, needs can be expressed, and differences are allowed. "In a trauma bond, there's no resolution. You lose your sense of self. The person's approval becomes your compass. And leaving feels impossible, not just because you love them, but because your nervous system has been wired to see them as the only path to safety."

"A product of someone else's expectations."

The full weight of what had happened to Alice didn't hit her until a family trip took her away for the first time in years.

"I broke down. I'd become a projection, an extension, a product of someone else's expectations. I looked in the mirror and didn't recognise the woman staring back. I had given everything to be someone. And in doing so, I vanished."

Listen to Mamamia Out Loud, Mamamia's podcast with what women are talking about this week. Post continues below.

It wasn't until she started working with her partner — a Quantum Healing Hypnosis practitioner — that the pieces began to come together. Sessions helped her connect to the parts of herself that had been silenced, to the child who had learned to stay quiet to stay safe.

She began setting boundaries and allowing herself to want things. Simple acts, such as staying out late, taking a train alone, or eating dinner without permission felt revolutionary.

"Love isn't obedience," Alice says now. "Service isn't self-abandonment. And no successful man, or mentor, or job, can save you from a wound that was never yours to carry."

*Names have been changed to protect identities.

Feauture Image: Getty.