Dr. Sam Ballington On Leaving a Coercive Friendship: When Loyalty Becomes Abuse

A business owner. A PhD holder and professional academic researcher. A mum and wife. A strong career. A published author. A founder of a professional body.
A victim of coercive control.

In a previous issue of DWC Magazine, I shared the abuse I suffered as a child, and how I used those experiences to learn, grow, and shape change by creating the Association of Child and Family Coaches, where lived experience matters and can be harnessed to help others.

I think that is why what follows is such a vulnerable share. Not because I am educated and therefore “should have been bright enough to see it” – that is not how it works – but because I teach people how to work with others who have faced a range of challenges, all while being abused myself and allowing it to happen.

We were best friends for over twenty years. Our lives were intertwined, our families knew each other, and we had known each other’s children from birth. People who saw us together thought we were inseparable. Or so I believed. That is what they thought, but I will come to that part of the story. For a long time, I thought we were unbreakable too. What I did not realise was that our “friendship” was built on control, dependency, and coercion, all hidden behind loyalty.

When the person harming you is someone you love, it rarely looks like abuse. It looks like sacrifice. It looks like loyalty. It looks like, I must be the difficult one.

The imbalance happened gradually. She needed help, and I provided it. She required time, money, opportunities, and emotional labour. Then one day, she needed a job. Unwilling to work on a bank holiday in her previous role, she walked out. Knowing I ran a business, she approached me for support. Initially, I said I did not have a role available. However, I reconsidered. I created a position for her, trained her in it, and helped her gain relevant qualifications, although it was challenging to keep her engaged in the learning process. The reality was that I was being conditioned to give, while she was conditioned to take.

I offered her something most friends never do: a job. I trusted that employment could lift her up, support her family, and strengthen our bond. But she had conditions. Pay was needed to meet a UK-based benefits requirement. She did not want to work at all during the school holidays, leaving me with over thirteen weeks a year to pick up her workload in addition to my own. I agreed, of course. She needed a job. I could certainly find a way for her to help.

Instead, it exposed the truth.

We promised each other that if the job went sour, friendship would come first. Jumping ahead, I will give you a spoiler alert: that is not how things ended.

She often went AWOL, repeatedly ignored responsibilities, and caused professional and financial damage, not just to me but also to the learners she interacted with, and ultimately to my business. People asked me why I was allowing this. I would always find an excuse for her behaviour. I did not realise the true extent of the damage she was doing to my business until much later.

This behaviour did not stop at work. Outside of it, because we spent so much time together, I automatically invited her as my plus-one to gigs and festivals. I have an essential companion requirement for events, and these were plentiful as they were my hobby. She attended for free. I know others in my position split ticket costs, but to me, the petrol she paid was enough. I never once received a thank you for inviting her, and I did not expect one. Without her, I would not have been able to attend, so I thanked her endlessly. She knew I needed her.

Before one festival, I messaged her several days in advance to confirm timings and arrangements. I was left on “read”. As the days passed and I checked in to see if she was okay, I began to panic. It became too late to invite someone else, so I resigned myself to the fact that we would not be going. Money was lost and an event missed. She finally responded late in the evening the day before.

When plans changed or when others were invited, she would say she felt “unwanted and useless”, and I would spend hours trying to make it right. Looking back at old messages now, I feel embarrassed by how I appear to be on my knees, even though I was not at fault. When I began sharing opportunities with other friends, I received messages saying, “I feel like you are pushing me away”, leading me to apologise yet again.

At the three-year point of her role, she took sick leave to claim a bereavement that had not occurred. When she handed me the sick note, she remarked, “I don’t know why it says bereavement.” Even then, I spent weeks supporting and covering for her. I organised a specialist return-to-work plan, setting conditions that she work within core hours rather than trying to fit work in at 10 p.m., and asked another team member to lead her work so I could step back. At my fortieth birthday, she introduced herself to others by saying, “I work for Sam, she lets me take the piss out of her.” I laughed it off. Inside, it cut deeply.

When she passed me her sick note, I trusted her again. I should have collected all work equipment, but she said she would email a handover that evening. That email never came. Without it, I had no idea which learners she was scheduled to meet. Complaints followed. The first, then the second, and then a third, which arrived while I was attending an awards ceremony as a finalist.

Accessing her emails revealed nearly four thousand unread messages. In just two weeks, I saw how badly my kindness had been exploited. We worked backwards through bookings and uncovered the extent of the damage to my business’s reputation. I stopped checking in January 2025.

The day she was due to return, she went AWOL.

I removed her from the business with professional support. I did not intend to remove her from my life. When redundancy became unavoidable, she blocked me and publicly attacked me online. I did not leave the relationship; she did, the moment I stopped being useful.

That was when everything made sense.

“Why didn’t you leave?” applies to friendships too. Coercive control is not exclusive to romantic relationships. Financial manipulation, emotional guilt, and conditional affection exist in friendships as well.

After she left, my body collapsed. I became seriously unwell and spent time in hospital. The cause was emotional.

Christmas adds pressure to reconnect, forgive, and return to what caused harm. This will be my first Christmas without her. I did not walk away; I was discarded when I stopped serving her purpose.

I no longer judge my worth by what I offer. I no longer apologise for boundaries. I am still healing, but I am whole.

If even one person recognises their situation in mine, sharing this was worth it. Coercive and financially abusive friendships exist. You are not weak for staying. You are not cruel for leaving. You are allowed to choose yourself.

I end with gratitude for the real friends who stayed. The coffee visits, the sleepovers, the phone calls, and the truth-telling. I have learnt what friendship truly is.