In a rare candid moment on her Used to Be Young TikTok series, Cyrus reflected on the "discipline" of her Disney days. Yet, fans and critics alike heard the subtext: trauma. The "abuse" in Miley’s lifestyle wasn't just the paparazzi's flash; it was the slow erosion of autonomy.

However, this leads to the second phase of the abuse cycle: self-abuse through lifestyle. The endless partying, the blunt-smoking, the hedonistic Bangerz era—it was fun until it wasn't. In the documentary Miley: The Movement , we saw the exhaustion behind the eyes. The industry had taught her that her value was in performance. So, she performed "wild," performing "broken," performing "unbothered." That is the insidious nature of lifestyle abuse—when you can no longer tell if you are using the drugs or if the lifestyle is using you.

When Cyrus signed her contract at 11, she wasn't just agreeing to a job; she was agreeing to a lifestyle of erasure. The "Hannah" persona was a commodity—a blond wig that suffocated the girl underneath. Entertainment abuse often starts not with a fist, but with a schedule: 12-hour workdays, image clauses that dictate how you speak, how you dress, even how you exist . For Miley, this created a fractured identity. The industry abused her childhood to build a $1 billion franchise, leaving her to clean up the psychological wreckage.