From Toothpaste to Trauma: How manipulation and control sneak up on you

Twenty-five years ago, I was given a life lesson on the “proper” way to use toothpaste.

Every time you used it, you were supposed to apply pressure to the end of the tube and squeeze the displaced toothpaste back toward the top.

It was the correct way.

Looking back, after the charm, charisma, attention, and desire had done their job and I had already started thinking, How could I be so lucky to find someone like this? the small suggestions began.

At first, the suggestions can seem like they are just about things and not about you.

But eventually, things take a turn.

The suggestions become more personal. Maybe you need a new hairstyle or to change your makeup. Or maybe you should have that mole on your chin removed. Your arms could use some work, or your calves.

Your body begins to be picked apart, piece by piece.

Eventually, the comments can reach much more intimate parts of your body. Parts you don’t share with just anyone.

There’s a term I learned that blew my mind: negging. I learned it from my therapist.

She knew the right word (as always) at exactly the right time.

Negging: Using backhanded compliments or subtle insults to lower confidence and increase approval-seeking.

My real-life example:

“I love your breasts. I don’t know why men don’t like breasts like yours.”

There were others, but I still can’t speak them out loud. This example is enough for now.

The message I absorbed was:

No other man would ever like my breasts. Only him.

That really fucks with your mind, you know?

And as I have mentioned, I am IN this journey, not completely on the other side of it. Body image is still one of the most difficult things I navigate.

And criticism about your body changes your relationship with your body.

Every correction, from something as small as toothpaste to something as personal as my breasts, taught me to see myself through someone else’s judgments.

I am slowly relearning that I am allowed to exist without being evaluated, managed, or somehow improved. That my calves don't need a verdict.

Now I understand the trick.

The control isn't in whether there is actually anything wrong with your body. It's in convincing you that there is, then positioning themselves as the rare person willing to love you anyway.

Little by little, you are picked apart, judged, corrected, and made small.

And it all started with the toothpaste, right? Not at all. It started with control.

The advice and critiques were never really about making me better. They taught me to look at myself through someone else's eyes and keep changing myself in hopes of finally getting it right. Finally being good enough. Finally being worthy of love and acceptance.

There are things that were said to me that I still cannot say out loud because I am so ashamed of them. You don't just wake up one day and those thoughts are gone. It takes work to detach from what someone else needed you to believe about yourself.

I am still learning this. And I know I am not alone.

Twenty-five years ago, I thought I was being taught the proper way to use toothpaste.

I wasn't. It was never about the toothpaste.