It’s Friday, August 22, 2025, at 08:17 PM BST, and I find myself once again wrestling with the echoes of an abusive past that lingers despite my efforts to move forward. The individual who once hurt me continues to exert control, now through court proceedings, demanding I “stop publishing anything about him” on social media or my blog. First of all, I have deactivated my Facebook, even though I haven’t shared a single detail that identifies him or his physique—my posts, crafted carefully, focus solely on my own journey, my feelings, and my healing process after escaping a toxic relationship.
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My perpetrator has spun wild accusations, suggesting I was recruited by someone from his past to infiltrate his life and labelling me “vexatious” in court. He’s self-representing in a theatrical manner, even attacking the court’s integrity, all while under an injunction. He continues to harass me by stalking my blog and social media profiles in which I have not blocked him because I forgot he existed there. He is creepy, to say the least, and truly reminds me of Ted Bundy in court. His arrogance, his devaluation of public office solicitors (only women have been representing me) is contemptuous. He called an honourable judge “sexist”, simply for being a woman. Yes, he truly fits the profile of a misogynist.
I decided to go into forensics because since I was a child, I had a natural gift of dealing with troubled individuals so as to keep myself safe. I grew up in Colombia during the 90s, a time when the Constitution of 1991 was established, and a time when violence, narco-cartels, the paramilitary, satanic sects, death squads, and fresh magnicides took place. Indeed, utter political chaos was the status quo. Yes, Colombia was in deep crisis during this decade, and psychological deviations were all over the place. What seemed normal everywhere, was also a hyper-manifestation, and hypernormalisation of what now is classified as abnormal.
Among the many ills of Colombia, were sexual deviations. And that’s how my ‘career’ into forensic psychoanalysis began when I was only six years old.
As I write this update on Tuesday, May 6, 2025, I’m struggling to find the courage to publish this blog post, overwhelmed by fear and self-doubt that have resurfaced after a series of messages from my perpetrator over the weekend. One message, in particular, has thrown me off balance: he mentioned his relative contacting me, thanked me for wishing him well, and pleaded for one last try at couple’s therapy, offering to pay for counselling and claiming it’s confidential, so I’d have “nothing to lose.” He denied that his actions—like ghosting me for two days due to a hangover—constituted abuse, accusing me of mislabelling them and implying I’ve made him seem like a physical abuser by not providing “details.” He ended by saying he’d never contact me again if I didn’t reply, but his words have left me spiralling, feeling like the abuse is my fault all over again.
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This message, along with others he sent over the weekend, has reignited the fear that’s kept me from sharing my story. I’m terrified that if I publish this post, he’ll see it and retaliate, especially since the Non-Molestation Order I applied for through the National Centre for Domestic Violence (NCDV) is still being fast-tracked and isn’t yet in effect. The NCDV has been working diligently since I contacted them on May 1, 2025, but the process has taken longer than expected, leaving me vulnerable to his ongoing harassment. His past threats—like saying “Big mistake” on April 13 when I set boundaries—make me worry he’ll escalate, perhaps by showing up or intensifying his smear campaign, as he did with the local community. I’m scared he’ll twist my words, claiming I’ve misrepresented him, and that others will believe his gaslighting over my truth. As someone with health problems, I’ve already battled self-doubt, and his accusations exploit that vulnerability, making me fear I’ll be seen as “deluded” or “overdramatic,” labels he’s used to undermine me.
The emotional toll has been immense—my panic attacks have worsened, and my mental health team increased my Diazepam prescription this week because my emotions have become so intense, teetering on the edge of stupor and catatonia. I’m also afraid of his manipulative pull; his suggestion of therapy tugs at the part of me that once hoped he could change, despite his emotional abuse in our past sessions with Stephanie. But I’m determined to publish today, knowing that the support of PDAS, JWA, and the First Response team, along with the Clare’s Law disclosure that validated my experience, gives me the strength to speak out and help others break free.
The traumas will take time to heal. I’m working on rebuilding my self-esteem, reminding myself that my schizophrenia and depression don’t make me “disgusting”—they’re part of my journey, and I’m stronger for surviving them. I’m reclaiming my love for theology, finding solace in the texts that once brought me joy, refusing to let his threats taint that part of me. I’m also channelling my experiences into something positive: I’m reviving my plan to turn my website into a platform for emotional support for women, sharing resources, coping strategies, and a safe space for others to heal, just as I am.
If you’re reading this and recognise these signs in your own relationship—the withdrawal, the gaslighting, the threats—please know you’re not alone. Reach out to support services like Women’s Aidor your local First Response Team. You deserve to feel safe, to be loved without fear, to break free from the possession of abuse. I’m still healing, but I’m free now, and that freedom is worth every tear I’ve shed. I hope my story gives you the courage to find yours.
It’s Friday, May 2, 2025, and I’m writing this update with a renewed sense of clarity and strength, despite the ongoing challenges I’ve faced since I last shared my story. The past few days have been a whirlwind—marked by continued harassment, a pivotal disclosure from the police, and a rapid legal intervention that has finally given me the protection I desperately needed. I’m also reflecting on how therapy, which I’d hoped would help us heal, became another platform for his abuse, further solidifying my decision to leave. If my journey can inspire even one woman to seek the support she deserves, then sharing this update is worth every word.
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After I ended the relationship on April 30, 2025, following his cruel behaviour in our couple’s therapy chat group, I thought I’d taken the necessary steps to protect myself—blocking him on WhatsApp, social media, and email. But the harassment didn’t stop. His threats continued, pushing me into a spiral of panic attacks so severe that I experienced stupor and catatonia, leading my doctor to prescribe Diazepam to help me cope. I felt trapped, my mental health deteriorating under the weight of his relentless intimidation. That’s when the Plymouth Domestic Abuse Service (PDAS) stepped in, referring me to apply for an emergency injunction to stop him from contacting or harming me. They connected me with the National Centre for Domestic Violence (NCDV), a free service that specializes in fast-tracking injunctions for survivors like me.
The NCDV was a lifeline. On the evening of May 1, 2025, at 10:25 PM BST, I called their 24/7 helpline (0800 970 2070), my hands trembling as I explained the threats, the harassment, and the toll it was taking on my health. They guided me through the application for a Non-Molestation Order, a legal protection under the Family Law Act 1996 that would prohibit him from contacting or harassing me. The process was swift—despite it being after court hours, they prepared my application that night, ensuring it would be reviewed by a judge first thing the next morning, May 2, 2025. True to their reputation, the NCDV secured the order by midday today. It was served to him this afternoon, meaning it’s now in effect, and any breach—any attempt to contact or threaten me—is a criminal offense. The speed and compassion of the NCDV gave me a sense of safety I hadn’t felt in months, a concrete step toward reclaiming my peace.
Another turning point came yesterday, May 1, 2025, when I met with the Devon & Cornwall Police for an update. They made a Clare’s Law disclosure, also known as the Domestic Violence Disclosure Scheme, which allows individuals to request information about a partner’s history of abuse. I can’t share the specifics of his records due to legal restrictions, but I can say this: the disclosure confirmed everything I’d been perceiving about his behaviour. It liberated me from the self-doubt that had plagued me for months. He’d called me “overdramatic,” “hostile,” even a “deluded psychotic nutcase” in our therapy chat, gaslighting me into questioning my reality, especially as someone with schizophrenia. But the Clare’s Law disclosure validated my experience—it showed me I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t imagining things, and most painfully, I wasn’t the first victim. Knowing his abusive behavior was part of a pattern, not a personal failing on my part, gave me the clarity to fully let go of any lingering guilt or hope for change. I hope I’m the last victim, but more importantly, I urge any woman who suspects her partner is abusive to request a Clare’s Law disclosure. It could be the validation you need to break free, just as it was for me.
Therapy, which I’d hoped would be a path to healing, ultimately failed because of his constant emotional abuse. We started couple’s therapy with a therapist named Stephanie, hoping to address his coercive behaviors—like the 5/2 cycle of ghosting, his threats, and gaslighting—but it became another arena for him to hurt me. On April 29, 2025, in our therapy chat group, he attacked my vulnerabilities, calling me “disgusting” for showering only 2-3 times a week during the winter due to my depression, a symptom of my schizophrenia, and labelling me a “deluded psychotic nutcase.” That was the moment I knew therapy couldn’t work—not because I didn’t try, but because he refused to change. His abuse in a space meant for healing confirmed what Jewish Women’s Aid (JWA) had warned me about: he was unlikely to change, and staying engaged with him, even in therapy, was unsafe. I ended the sessions that day, choosing to focus on my own healing instead.
The Clare’s Law disclosure and the Non-Molestation Order have given me a foundation to rebuild. The traumas are still there—the fear, the shame, the violation of sacred spaces like our shared love for Jewish Studies—but I’m no longer questioning my reality. I’m working with the First Response team in Plymouth, who’ve been a lifeline during this ordeal, and JWA, who continue to offer culturally sensitive support. I’m also exploring resources like the Freedom Programme online, which helps survivors understand abusive behaviors and their impact. My journey isn’t over, but with the NCDV’s swift action, the police’s validation through Clare’s Law, and my decision to walk away from a failed therapy attempt, I’m finally on a path to healing. To anyone reading this: you deserve safety, validation, and peace—don’t wait to seek the support that can help you find it.
Geriatric depression, a significant mental health concern among older adults, manifests as a range of depressive symptoms that impair quality of life, functional capacity, and overall well-being. In Colombia, a country marked by socioeconomic challenges, historical violence, and a growing ageing population, geriatric depression presents unique complexities. The prevalence of depression among older adults in Colombia is notably high, with studies indicating that up to 41% of individuals over 60 report depressive symptoms (Ministerio de Salud, 2013). This essay explores the prevalence, risk factors, social resources, and interventions for geriatric depression in Colombia, drawing on recent studies to provide a comprehensive analysis. It also addresses the social resources available to mitigate this condition, emphasising their role in fostering mental health resilience.
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Prevalence of Geriatric Depression in Colombia
Depression among older adults in Colombia is a pressing public health issue. According to the Encuesta Nacional de Salud, Bienestar y Envejecimiento (SABE; Ministerio de Salud, 2015), approximately 41% of Colombians aged 60 and older exhibit depressive symptoms, a figure significantly higher than global estimates, which range from 10-20% for older adults (World Health Organisation, 2017). A study conducted in three Colombian cities—Bogotá, Medellín, and Cali—utilising the Yesavage Geriatric Depression Scale (GDS) reported a prevalence of 15% for clinical depression among community-dwelling older adults, with higher rates among women (Gómez et al., 2019). This discrepancy in prevalence estimates may stem from methodological differences, such as self-reported measures versus clinical diagnoses, and the exclusion of rural or institutionalised populations in some studies.
The high prevalence is compounded by underdiagnosis, with nearly half of geriatric depression cases remaining undetected due to stigma, prioritisation of somatic complaints, and limited access to mental health services (Giebel et al., 2023). Colombia’s history of armed conflict, spanning over seven decades, has further exacerbated mental health challenges, with older adults often reporting trauma-related depressive symptoms due to exposure to violence, displacement, or loss (León-Giraldo et al., 2021). The ageing population, projected to increase from 18.7% to 39.5% of the total population by 2050, underscores the urgency of addressing geriatric depression as a public health priority (Guo et al., 2025).
Risk Factors for Geriatric Depression in Colombia
Several risk factors contribute to the high prevalence of geriatric depression in Colombia, encompassing demographic, psychosocial, health-related, and contextual elements. These factors include advancing age, which inherently brings about a decline in physical health and social support networks as older adults often experience the loss of loved ones and friends. In this complex interplay of factors, contextual elements, including societal attitudes towards ageing and mental health stigmas, further complicate the landscape of geriatric depression, emphasising the urgent need for targeted interventions and support systems in Colombia.
1. Demographic and Socioeconomic Factors
Gender is a significant determinant, with women consistently showing higher rates of depression than men. A Bogotá-based study found that being female was associated with a higher risk of depression, potentially due to gender-specific social stressors such as caregiving responsibilities and economic dependency (Rodríguez et al., 2020). Low socioeconomic status and limited education also increase vulnerability, as they restrict access to resources and exacerbate feelings of helplessness (León-Giraldo et al., 2021). Only 23% of Colombians over 60 receive a pension in 2015, leaving many in financial strain, which is a known correlate of depression (SABE, Ministerio de Salud, 2015). However, there is progress as President Gustavo Petro has recently implemented policies targeting these crucial, and problematic factors.
2. Psychosocial Factors
Social isolation and poor social support are critical risk factors. Older adults in Colombia often experience shrinking social networks due to retirement, bereavement, or health decline, which heightens loneliness and depressive symptoms (Ayalon & Levkovich, 2019). Low social support networks were strongly associated with depression, particularly among women. Additionally, exposure to historical violence, including forced displacement and loss of loved ones, has left lasting psychological scars, with older adults reporting persistent trauma (Giebel et al., 2023).
3. Health-Related Factors
Chronic illnesses, such as diabetes, cardiovascular disease, and cognitive impairment, are prevalent among older Colombians and are closely linked to depression. The SABE survey indicated that 15% of older adults with depression also reported functional deficits, which further impair their ability to engage in daily activities (Gómez et al., 2019). Cognitive decline, assessed using tools like the Montreal Cognitive Assessment Test (MoCA), is another risk factor, as it compounds feelings of helplessness and reduces coping capacity.
4. Contextual Factors
Colombia’s history of armed conflict and ongoing localised violence contribute significantly to mental health challenges. The 2016 Peace and Disarmament Agreement reduced large-scale conflict, but localised violence persists, perpetuating stress and trauma among older adults (Tamayo-Agudelo & Bell, 2018). The COVID-19 pandemic further intensified these issues, with restrictive measures like physical distancing disproportionately affecting older adults, leading to increased isolation and depression (Ministerio de Salud y Protección Social, 2020).
Social Resources for Addressing Geriatric Depression
Social resources play a crucial role in mitigating geriatric depression by fostering social connectedness, providing instrumental support, and reducing isolation. In Colombia, several initiatives and programs target older adults’ mental health, though challenges in accessibility and coverage persist.
Colombia Mayor: A social pension program that improves social participation but has limited impact on depression due to household resource sharing.
Community Health Centres: Use tools for screening, though rural access is limited.
NGOs and Volunteering: Organisations like Fundación para el Bienestar del Adulto Mayor offer social activities, reducing depressive symptoms.
Digital Support: Internet usage reduces depression by fostering connections, but adoption is low due to digital literacy barriers.
The Above Programmes Explained
The Colombia Mayor program, a social pension initiative, provides cash transfers to low-income older adults to alleviate poverty and improve well-being. The study using the 2015 SABE data found that while the program improved social participation and reduced food insecurity, it had no significant effect on depression levels, possibly due to high levels of intergenerational co-residence, where benefits are shared within households rather than directly benefiting the recipient (Hessel et al., 2020). This highlights the need for targeted mental health components within such programs.
Community-based initiatives, such as those offered by public community health centres, provide screening and support for older adults. A South Korean study, which shares similarities with Colombia’s community-based approach, screened 609 older adults and found that social support moderated the relationship between daily living activities and life satisfaction, suggesting that similar interventions could be effective in Colombia (Kim et al., 2020). In Colombia, community health centres use tools like the Geriatric Depression Scale Short Form (GDSSF-K) to identify at-risk individuals, though coverage is limited in rural areas (Gómez et al., 2019).
NGOs and volunteer programs offer social engagement opportunities that can reduce depressive symptoms. A study on volunteering and depression found that older adults who volunteered reported fewer depressive symptoms, particularly when engaged in religious or community activities (Musick & Wilson, 2003). In Colombia, organisations like the Fundación para el Bienestar del Adulto Mayor provide recreational and social activities, fostering a sense of purpose and community. However, these programs are often urban-centric, limiting access for rural older adults.
Digital Support is based on the fact that internet usage has emerged as a potential tool for reducing depression among older adults. A study from the China Health and Retirement Longitudinal Study, applicable to middle-income contexts like Colombia, found that internet usage reduced depression levels by 1.41% by facilitating social connections and access to information (Guo et al., 2025). In Colombia, initiatives like the Ministry of Information and Communications’ digital literacy programs aim to bridge the digital divide for older adults, though adoption remains low due to limited access and technological literacy.
Interventions and Treatment Approaches
Effective interventions for geriatric depression in Colombia must address both the depressive syndrome and underlying social adversities. Several evidence-based approaches show promise.
Psychosocial: Problem-solving treatment (PST) combined with case management shows promise for low-income older adults.
Pharmacological and Integrated Care: Community-based antidepressant management improves outcomes.
Home-Based Care: Depression care management in home healthcare settings enhances functioning.
Now, let’s explore these in more detail:
Psychosocial Interventions
Problem-solving treatment (PST) combined with case management has shown feasibility in addressing geriatric depression among low-income older adults. A model developed by UCSF and Cornell University integrates PST with case management, teaching patients to identify problems, set goals, and create action plans while linking them to social services (Areán et al., 2010). In Colombia, such interventions could be adapted for community health centres, where nurses are well-positioned to deliver depression care management (DCM).
Pharmacological and Integrated Care
Antidepressant medication management integrated into primary care settings has improved depression outcomes in older adults, with benefits lasting up to two years (Hunkeler et al., 2006). In Colombia, the transition from hospital-based to community-based mental health care, initiated by the 1990 Declaration of Caracas, has increased access to such treatments, though rural areas lag behind (Caldas de Almeida & Horvitz-Lennon, 2010).
Home-Based Care
Home-based care is particularly effective for older adults with mobility limitations or disabilities. Studies integrating mental health care into home healthcare (HHC) settings have shown reduced depression and improved functioning (Rabins et al., 2000). In Colombia, HHC nurses could be trained to implement DCM, leveraging tools like the OASIS-C depression screening to identify and manage cases (Pickett et al., 2022).
Challenges and Recommendations
Despite the availability of social resources and interventions, several challenges hinder effective management of geriatric depression in Colombia. Limited mental health infrastructure, particularly in rural areas, restricts access to care. Stigma surrounding mental health discourages older adults from seeking help, and the prioritisation of physical health over mental health in clinical settings exacerbates underdiagnosis (Giebel et al., 2023). Additionally, the lack of integration between social programs like Colombia Mayor and mental health services limits their impact on depression.
To address these challenges, the following recommendations are proposed:
Enhance Community-Based Screening: Expand the use of validated tools in community health centres and train healthcare workers to recognise atypical presentations of depression in older adults.
Integrate Mental Health into Social Programs: Incorporate mental health components into programs like Colombia Mayor, such as peer support groups or counselling, to directly address depressive symptoms.
Promote Digital Inclusion: Increase investment in digital literacy programs to enable older adults to access online mental health resources and social networks.
Strengthen Rural Access: Develop mobile health units and telehealth services to reach rural older adults and ensure equitable access to mental health care.
Combat Stigma: Launch public awareness campaigns to reduce stigma and encourage help-seeking behaviours among older adults.
Conclusion
Geriatric depression in Colombia is a multifaceted issue driven by socioeconomic disparities, historical trauma, and health challenges. While social resources like Colombia Mayor, community health centres, and NGO-led initiatives offer valuable support, their impact on depression is limited by accessibility and integration issues. Evidence-based interventions, such as PST, integrated care, and home-based DCM, show promise but require broader implementation. By addressing structural barriers and leveraging social resources, Colombia can enhance mental health outcomes for its ageing population, ensuring that older adults live with dignity and resilience.
References
Areán, P. A., Raue, P., Kanellopoulos, D., Sirey, J. A., & Alexopoulos, G. S. (2010). Treating depression in disabled, low-income elderly: A conceptual model and recommendations for care. International Journal of Geriatric Psychiatry, 25(8), 765–769. https://doi.org/10.1002/gps.2556
Caldas de Almeida, J. M., & Horvitz-Lennon, M. (2010). Mental health care reforms in Latin America: An overview of mental health care in Latin America and the Caribbean. Psychiatric Services, 61(3), 218–221. https://doi.org/10.1176/ps.2010.61.3.218
Giebel, C., Zuluaga, M. I., Martinez, R., Castro, S., & Gomez, D. (2023). “Mental health has been left behind”: A qualitative exploration of stakeholders’ perceptions of older adults’ mental well-being in Colombia. Journal of Aging & Social Policy, 35(4), 512–530. https://doi.org/10.1080/08959420.2023.2201818
Gómez, F., Corchuelo, J., Curcio, C. L., Calzada, M. T., & Mendez, F. (2019). Depression in the elderly: A study in three cities of Colombia. Revista Redalyc, 21(3), 45–56. https://www.redalyc.org/articulo.oa?id=10557689004
Hunkeler, E. M., Katon, W., Tang, L., Williams, J. W., Kroenke, K., Lin, E. H., & Unützer, J. (2006). Long term outcomes from the IMPACT randomised trial for depressed elderly patients in primary care. BMJ, 332(7536), 259–263. https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.38683.710255.BE
Kim, J., Lee, S., & Chun, S. (2020). Depression, loneliness, social support, activities of daily living, and life satisfaction in older adults at high-risk of dementia. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 17(20), 7648. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph17207648
León-Giraldo, S., Casas, G., Cuervo, J. D., Florez, F., & Botero, J. (2021). Mental health outcomes among older adults in Colombia: The role of conflict and socioeconomic factors. PLoS ONE, 16(3), e0248484. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0248484
Rabins, P. V., Black, B. S., Roca, R., German, P., McGuire, M., Robbins, B., & Brant, L. (2000). Effectiveness of a nurse-based outreach program for identifying and treating psychiatric illness in the elderly. JAMA, 283(21), 2802–2809. https://doi.org/10.1001/jama.283.21.2802
I’ve made the hardest yet most necessary decision of my life: I’ve left my partner for good. This isn’t the first time I’ve faced emotional abuse, but I never imagined I’d find myself in this position again, grappling with the pain of a relationship that promised love but delivered trauma. As someone with schizophrenia and a background in forensic psychology—studies I couldn’t complete due to my illness—I thought I’d be able to spot the signs of abuse early. But it took me months, the support of professionals, and a lot of self-reflection to identify, process, and finally escape the cycle of coercive control that defined my relationship. I’m writing this post to share my story, the traumas I now carry, and the strength I’ve found in leaving—hoping it might help other women recognise the signs and break free, just as I have.
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Our relationship began with hope and shared interests, a bright spark that ignited the flame of connection between us. We connected deeply over theology, spending countless hours immersed in fascinating discussions about topics like politics, kabbalah, and history; exploring the rich tapestry of our cultural heritage. I envisioned dreams of a happy future together, one where we’d grow, support each other, and build a life rooted in mutual respect and understanding. I became very illusioned. We were not just partners; we were companions on an intellectual journey, sharing our hearts and minds.
However, as time passed, those idyllic dreams were overshadowed by a pattern of behaviour that I now recognise as coercive control—a term I learned through the invaluable support of Jewish Women’s Aid (JWA) and the dedicated First Response team in Plymouth, where I live. This gradual realisation was heart-wrenching, as I began to understand that what I perceived as normal had morphed into something sinister. The Devon & Cornwall Police have also been increasingly concerned, actively advising me to extricate myself early from this situation, as his behaviour exhibited early signs of this insidious form of abuse that can entrap individuals in a cycle of manipulation and fear. The journey towards awareness has been painful but necessary, shedding light on the true nature of our interactions and empowering me to reclaim my sense of self.
The first red flag was his pattern of withdrawing contact—what I later called the “5/2 cycle.” Every week, he’d started to disappear for two nights, with zero communication, only to return for five nights of warmth and affection. Those two nights of silence, like one instance earlier this month, left me anxious and hurt, wondering what I’d done wrong; my mind racing with self-doubt, but when he’d return with kind words, it was like a wave of relief. I didn’t realise then that this push-pull dynamic was a control tactic, designed to keep me on edge, craving his affection while fearing his withdrawal. JWA later explained that this intermittent reinforcement is a hallmark of coercive control, creating an emotional dependency that’s hard to break.
His behaviour escalated beyond withdrawal, which some call “ghosting”. He began gaslighting me, making me question my reality. In one WhatsApp rant, he called me “overdramatic” and “hostile”, blaming me for his actions and claiming I’d “misled” him, even though I’d only tried to communicate my needs. I’d always been clear and literal, especially because I knew he struggled with emotional processing, but he turned my openness against me. When I blocked him on WhatsApp to protect myself temporarily, he moved to Xbox, starting with love-bombing messages—“I miss you”—before quickly shifting to demands and threats. He insisted I return his belongings, accusing me of “holding them hostage,” and warned me not to “escalate this and cause unnecessary trouble.” The most chilling moment came when I told him I’d block him on Xbox due to his violation of my boundaries—his immediate reply was “Big mistake,” a direct threat that left me terrified.
The threats didn’t stop there. Early in our relationship, he warned me never to start a legal battle with him, claiming I’d lose, and threatened to “air all kinds of private things” if I mentioned our conversations about course-related books to our Rabbi. Those conversations were sacred to me—a space where I found solace in my faith and intellectual curiosity—but he turned them into a weapon, threatening to shame and control me. I felt violated, as if a part of my identity had been invaded. I later learned from JWA that this, too, was coercive control: using my vulnerabilities to intimidate and silence me.
A more public form of his abuse came through a smear campaign. Just 10-15 minutes after his “Big mistake” threat, he posted a video on Facebook inferring I was too clingy. The irony was painful—I’d been the one asking for space, setting boundaries, and blocking him to protect myself, yet he twisted the narrative to humiliate me. That post felt like a deliberate attempt to discredit me to others and make me the problem, when I was the one suffering from his actions. I blocked him on Facebook immediately, but the damage was done—I was left fearing what else he might say, how he might further distort my reality to the world.
It took me a while to identify and process this abuse. I was in denial, clinging to the hope that he could change, especially because I understood his struggles—his neurodivergence, his issues with alcohol, his difficult family dynamics. I don’t give up on people easily, and I genuinely loved him. I thought I could help him stop drinking, stop the abusive behaviors, and build the future I’d dreamed of. We even started couple’s therapy, hoping to heal together, but that hope was shattered when he became abusive in our therapy chat group. He called me “disgusting” for showering only 2-3 times per week during the winter—a negative symptom of my depression linked to schizophrenia—and labelled me a “deluded psychotic nutcase.” Those words cut deep, attacking my mental health in a space meant for healing. It was the final straw, confirming what everyone had warned me about: he was unlikely to change, and his behaviour was only getting worse.
The traumas he’s left me with are heavy. I feel like love has become a demonic possession—a metaphor I’ve used to describe the overwhelming, consuming nature of our relationship. The 5/2 cycle, the gaslighting, the threats—they created a constant state of fear and anxiety, as if I was under a spell I couldn’t break. I’d wake up wondering if he’d disappear again, or if he’d escalate his threats, maybe even show up unannounced. His words in therapy, attacking my schizophrenia, have left me with a deep sense of shame and self-doubt, even though I know my symptoms aren’t my fault. I feel violated, not just emotionally but intellectually—our shared passion for theology, once a source of joy, now feels tainted by his threats to expose private details, and by his indirect harassment through common groups. I’m grieving the loss of the future I’d envisioned, and I’m angry at myself for not seeing the signs sooner, despite my background in forensic psychology.
I met with the Devon & Cornwall Police, and they made the Clare’s Law disclosure. It confirmed that what I already knew was true. Whilst I am not allowed to express the details of his records, I can advise that all women who suspect their partners are abusive, make such a request. Why? Because it helped me to see that what I was perceiving was correct, that I am not crazy, and that I am not the first victim. However, I hope I am the last.
I never imagined I’d be in this position again. Coercive control is insidious—it creeps in slowly, disguised as love, until you’re too entangled to see clearly. It took me months to recognise the patterns, to stop making excuses for him, to stop blaming myself. I was in denial, hoping my love and understanding could change him, but I’ve learned a painful lesson: I can’t fix someone who doesn’t want to change, and I can’t sacrifice my safety for hope.
Leaving him for good was my reclaiming of power. I’ve blocked him everywhere, ensuring he can’t contact me further. I’ve ended couple’s therapy—his abuse in that space made it clear it wasn’t safe—and I’m focusing on individual healing with the support of JWA, my mental health team, and the First Response team. I’m proud of myself for remaining constructive, for never stooping to his level with derogatory terms, for holding onto my empathy even as he hurt me. I loved him, but he used me, admitting he was only with me because I was good for his mental and physical health. That betrayal stings, but it also clarifies what I deserve: a love built on trust, respect, and safety.
For Jewish communities, Yeshua of Nazareth has long been a figure of historical curiosity rather than religious significance. Unlike Christianity, which venerates Jesus as the Messiah and Son of God, traditional Jewish thought views him as a 1st-century Jewish man whose life and teachings did not align with messianic expectations rooted in the Tanakh. One of the most debated aspects of Jesus’ life, particularly in Jewish-Christian polemics, is the question of his parentage. While Christian theology asserts a divine origin through the Virgin Birth, Jewish sources, especially from the Talmud and later texts like the Toledot Yeshu, offer a starkly different narrative. Among these, the Panthera theory—claiming Jesus’ father was a Roman soldier named Panthera—stands out as a provocative and polemical counterclaim. This post explores Jewish perspectives on Jesus’ origins, delves into the Panthera theory, and examines the historical and cultural context of these narratives, emphasising their role in Jewish-Christian tensions.
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Historical Context: Jesus in 1st-Century Judea
Jesus lived in a tumultuous period of Jewish history, under Roman occupation in 1st-century Judea. The Jewish people were divided among various sects—Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, and Zealots—each with differing views on how to navigate Roman rule and what the Messiah would bring. The Tanakh, particularly passages like Isaiah 11:1-9 and Ezekiel 37:24-28, describes the Messiah as a descendant of David who would restore the kingdom of Israel, rebuild the Temple, and usher in an era of universal peace. Jesus, however, did not fulfill these expectations, as his death by crucifixion under Roman authority (around 30 CE) and the subsequent rise of Christianity as a separate religion led most Jewish authorities to reject his messianic claims (Vermes, 1973).
The earliest non-Christian reference to Jesus comes from the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus in his Antiquities of the Jews (c. 93 CE). In Book 18, Chapter 3, Josephus describes Jesus as a “wise man” and teacher who was crucified under Pontius Pilate, but this passage, known as the Testimonium Flavianum, is widely debated. Scholars like Ehrman (1999) argue that it was likely altered by later Christian scribes to show Jesus more favourably, casting doubt on its reliability as a Jewish perspective (Ehrman, 1999, p. 59). For most Jews of the time, Jesus was likely seen as one of many charismatic leaders or would-be messiahs, not a figure of lasting significance.
Jewish Texts and the Polemical Response to Christianity
As Christianity grew, particularly after becoming the state religion of the Roman Empire in the 4th century under Constantine, Jewish communities faced increasing pressure and persecution. This historical tension shaped Jewish responses to Christian claims about Jesus, often leading to critical or dismissive portrayals in Jewish texts. The Talmud, compiled between the 3rd and 6th centuries CE, contains a few passages that some scholars believe refer to Jesus, though the identification is debated due to the commonality of the name “Yeshu” (a shortened form of Yeshua) at the time (Schäfer, 2007).
In Sanhedrin 43a, a figure named Yeshu is described as being executed for sorcery and leading Israel astray, with his execution occurring on the eve of Passover. This timeline aligns with the New Testament account of Jesus’ crucifixion, but the details differ—the Talmud states he was stoned and hanged, not crucified (Schäfer, 2007, p. 64). Another passage, in Shabbat 104b, refers to a “Yeshu ben Panthera,” implying that this Yeshu was the son of a woman named Miriam (Mary) and a man named Panthera, not her husband. These references are not historical accounts but polemical responses to Christianity, aiming to delegitimise Jesus’ divinity by portraying him as a sorcerer or heretic (Talmud, Shabbat 104b, n.d.).
The Toledot Yeshu, a medieval Jewish text likely dating to the 6th century or later, expands on these Talmudic references. It presents a detailed, polemical biography of Jesus, claiming that his mother, Miriam, was seduced or raped by a Roman soldier named Panthera, resulting in Jesus’ birth. The text portrays Jesus as a false prophet who used magic to deceive people, a narrative designed to counter Christian claims of his divinity (Horbury, 2011). The Toledot Yeshu was widely circulated in Jewish communities during the Middle Ages as a way to resist Christian proselytising and persecution, reflecting the deep tensions between the two faiths.
The Panthera Theory: A Polemical Counter-Narrative
The Panthera theory, which suggests that Jesus’ biological father was a Roman soldier named Panthera (or Pandera), originates in these early Jewish polemics but was later amplified by external sources. The earliest reference appears in the Talmud, as noted in Shabbat 104b, where “Yeshu ben Pathera” is mentioned, implying illegitimacy. Some scholars suggest that “Pandera” may be a play on the Greek word parthenos (virgin), a mocking distortion of the Christian Virgin Birth narrative (Levine, 2006, p. 102). This linguistic jab would have been particularly pointed in a culture where legitimacy and lineage were crucial, as illegitimacy could exclude someone from the “assembly of the Lord” (Deuteronomy 23:2).
The Panthera story gained wider attention through the 2nd-century Greek philosopher Celsus, a pagan critic of Christianity. In his work The True Word (c. 178 CE), preserved through quotations in Origen’s Contra Celsum, Celsus claims that Jesus was the illegitimate son of a Roman soldier named Panthera. He alleges that Mary was unfaithful to Joseph and invented the story of a divine birth to cover her shame, a rumour he claims to have heard from Jewish sources (Origen, 1980, p. 32). Celsus’ account aligns with the Talmudic references, indicating that the Panthera story was a known Jewish polemic by the 2nd century, though his intent was to discredit Christianity, not to provide a historical record.
In the 19th century, a tombstone discovered in Bingerbrück, Germany, belonging to a Roman soldier named Tiberius Julius Abdes Panthera, reignited interest in the theory. The inscription indicates that Panthera was a soldier from Sidon who served in the Roman army and died around 40 CE, meaning he was alive during the time of Jesus’ birth (c. 4–6 BCE) (Tabor, 2006). Some scholars, like James Tabor, have speculated that this Panthera could be the figure mentioned in Jewish and pagan sources, suggesting a Roman soldier stationed in Judea might have had an encounter with a Jewish woman like Mary (Tabor, 2006, p. 65). However, most historians dismiss this connection as speculative. The name “Panthera” (meaning “panther” in Latin) was not uncommon, and there’s no direct evidence linking this soldier to Mary or Jesus. The tombstone’s location in Germany, far from Judea, further weakens the theory (Ehrman, 1999).
Polemical Issues: The Role of the Panthera Theory in Jewish-Christian Relations
The Panthera theory is best understood as a polemical tool rather than a historical fact. Its purpose was to undermine Christian claims about Jesus’ divinity, particularly the Virgin Birth, which was a cornerstone of Christian theology. For Jewish communities, the story served as a way to resist Christian proselytising and assert their own religious identity in the face of growing Christian dominance. By suggesting Jesus was illegitimate, Jewish polemicists could challenge the idea of his divine origin, a concept fundamentally at odds with Jewish monotheism, which emphasises the indivisible nature of God (Deuteronomy 6:4) (Schäfer, 2007).
This polemic was particularly significant during the Middle Ages, when Jewish communities faced intense persecution from Christian authorities. The Toledot Yeshu and similar texts were not just theological arguments but acts of cultural survival, providing a narrative that countered Christian claims and bolstered Jewish resilience (Horbury, 2011). However, these polemics also contributed to mutual hostility, as Christians often responded with their own anti-Jewish writings, leading to a cycle of animosity that persisted for centuries.
From a modern Jewish perspective, the Panthera theory is largely seen as a historical curiosity rather than a serious claim. Scholars like Amy-Jill Levine emphasise Jesus’ Jewish identity, focusing on his role as a teacher within his 1st-century context rather than debating his parentage (Levine, 2006). The question of Jesus’ father—whether Joseph, a Roman soldier, or a divine being—is secondary to the broader Jewish rejection of his messianic and divine status. For Jews, the focus remains on the Torah, Talmud, and Jewish law, with Jesus occupying a peripheral role in religious discourse.
Conclusion: A Legacy of Polemic and Perspective
Jewish perspectives on Jesus’ origins, including the Panthera theory, reflect a complex interplay of history, theology, and polemic. The Talmudic references and the Toledot Yeshu portray Jesus as a figure of controversy, using the Panthera story to challenge Christian claims of a virgin birth. While these narratives served a purpose in their historical context—resisting Christian dominance and preserving Jewish identity—they lack credible evidence as historical accounts. The Panthera theory, amplified by figures like Celsus and later speculation about the Panthera tombstone, remains a product of religious rivalry rather than fact. For Jewish audiences today, Jesus is best understood as a historical figure within his Jewish context, not a theological one, with the Pantera story serving as a reminder of the fraught history of Jewish-Christian relations.
References
Ehrman, B.D. (1999) Jesus: Apocalyptic Prophet of the New Millennium. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Horbury, W. (2011) ‘The Toledot Yeshu as a Source for Jewish-Christian Polemic’, in Schäfer, P. (ed.) The Toledot Yeshu in Context. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, pp. 45–67.
Levine, A.-J. (2006) The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus. San Francisco: HarperOne.
