For Panthi, a 40-year-old woman from Dhulikhel, the scars of her marital troubles were never visible. Her wounds were manifested in sleepless nights, endless self-doubt, and severe depression. Her husband never hit her. Instead, he wielded words like weapons and abused her emotionally.

“He controlled every aspect of my life—from the clothes I wore and money to the friends I could meet,” says Panthi, who the Post is identifying with a pseudonym to protect her privacy.

Panthi’s neighbours admired her husband for his apparent politeness. “You’re so lucky,” they would say, leaving Panthi to question if the problem was with her. She didn’t have bruises to show. No broken bones. No evidence.

“If I went to the police, what would I even say?” Panthi says.

Her in-laws were no help either. When she confided in her mother-in-law, the response was, “This is how marriage is, Panthi. Men have tempers; you must learn to adjust.”

Even her own family advised her to stay silent, fearing social disgrace and financial insecurity if she left.

Society’s narrow lens of gender-based violence—recognising only physical harm—left Panthi trapped.

Panthi stayed mum for years, trapped by fear and societal expectations. But as she watched her ten-year-old daughter crying every night because of her husband’s behaviour, she left home. “I couldn’t let my daughter grow up believing this was normal,” she says.

It’s been two years since she left her husband. Today, Panthi lives in a rented room in Dhulikhel, rebuilding her life through therapy and tailoring clothes. Her ex-husband has reportedly remarried.

“I didn’t have the courage or the money to file a case or ask for a divorce,” Panthi says. “I’ve seen women who were beaten black and blue struggle for justice. How could I, with no physical marks, even try?”

The United Nations defines gender-based violence as any act that results in or is likely to result in physical, sexual, or psychological harm or suffering to women, whether occurring in public or private life.

Yet, survivors like Panthi are often dismissed because their pain is intangible. “I hope that one day, women like me won’t have to justify their suffering,” Panthi says. “Abuse is abuse, whether it’s a fist or a word.”

According to UN Women, globally, almost one in three women have experienced physical and/or sexual violence at least once in their life.

Nepal ranks 71 out of 190 economies in the World Bank’s Women, Business, and the Law Safety Indicator. With women making up 51.1 percent of Nepal’s population, this statistic highlights gaps in ensuring women’s safety and gender equality.

“Psychological abuse is often the precursor to other forms of abuse,” says Sunika Joshi, a clinical mental health practitioner and cross-cultural psychologist. “It’s about gaslighting, intimidation, and control—all of which can be as harmful as physical violence.”

In many countries, including Nepal, emotional and psychological abuse is often overlooked or dismissed by authorities and society.

“When I was researching psychological abuse in Albania, survivors frequently faced the question, ‘Where is your scar?’” Joshi says. “This shows how deeply ingrained the notion of physical evidence is when it comes to identifying abuse.”

Emotional or psychological abuse involves behaviours such as verbal assaults, manipulation, humiliation, and economic control, which can isolate the victim from support networks and make them more vulnerable.

“The impact of psychological abuse is often invisible, but it is deeply damaging,” Joshi says. “Women who are psychologically abused may feel they are ‘crazy’, or that they are responsible for the abuse.”

Failure to address emotional abuse and all forms of GBV can have serious consequences. Women who endure such abuse may develop depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and hypervigilance, according to Joshi.

Research supports this view. A 2011 Canadian Women’s Foundation report found that GBV survivors are three to five times more likely to suffer from depression, PTSD, substance abuse, and suicidal tendencies.

The 2011 report further found that “survivors with mental health problems may be less likely to report violence, as their mental health is often used to discredit their experiences or place blame on them for what occurred.”

The same was the case for Pranisha, a 29-year-old from Chabahil, Kathmandu.

Pranisha, who suffered both physical and emotional abuse for years, was diagnosed with severe depression and PTSD. Pranisha, like many survivors, internalised her husband’s manipulations and began to believe that her mental health struggles were the cause of the abuse.

“He would tell me, ‘You’re unstable; that’s why we have problems. No one will believe or keep you with your illness,’” says Pranisha, who the Post is identifying with a pseudonym to protect her privacy. “I began to believe it was my fault.”

It was only when Pranisha sought help from a psychiatrist that she was able to understand the abuse for what it was. With the support of her psychiatrist and parents, she filed for divorce in 2023. “For the first time, I feel like I’m in control of my own life,” she says.

A recent research, ‘Association Between Domestic Violence and Mental Health Among Nepalese Women,’ confirms a strong link between mental health issues and domestic violence.

Analysing data from the 2022 Nepal Demographic and Health Survey, which included 4,211 women, the study revealed that nearly 50 percent of women who had experienced domestic violence had symptoms of anxiety and depression.

However, mental health issues are not the only barrier to reporting abuse. When violence occurs, women are questioned, while perpetrators rarely face consequences. This cultural conditioning deepens their sense of shame, leading to isolation.

The 2022 Nepal Demographic and Health Survey shows that 58 percent of women who experienced violence did not seek help. “In our culture, women who endure violence in silence are seen as ‘brave’, while those who speak up are labeled ‘troublemakers,’” Joshi adds.

The need for a more comprehensive framework to address all forms of GBV is critical.

“While the ‘Domestic Violence Act-2009’ includes emotional and mental abuse, there is no proper integrated framework for identifying or registering such abuse. Many victims are also unaware they can report it,” said DSP Saileshwori Bohora of the Women and Children Service Directorate, speaking at a GBV event on November 25 at Thames International College.

Bohora also stressed the need for trained counselors, psychologists, and social workers in healthcare settings, police stations, and schools. Bohora added that one insensitive question can push survivors back into abuse, making proper training essential for supporting them.

Joshi also notes that while men aren’t always perpetrators, patriarchy in Nepal often places men in this role. From childhood, patriarchy teaches them not to express emotions, to avoid crying, and to embody a rigid form of masculinity, she says.

This emotional suppression leads to aggression in adulthood, often manifesting as violence toward their partners, Joshi says. She suggests that if men are taught emotional intelligence, regulation, and conflict resolution from an early age, the incidence of GBV could be reduced.

“In many countries, GBV survivors can access legal, healthcare, housing, and social services in one place, but in Nepal, these services are fragmented, making it difficult for victims to navigate,” Joshi says. “We need better-integrated resources for GBV survivors.”