Let's say that the possibility of psychological abuse leaps naturally to mind for many readers who have memories of psychologically abusive relationships in their own lives.
Yes, you're right and it's unfortunately true for all too many of us these days, isn't it?
Shifting the focus a bit, the story is also extra-difficult for many readers who have experienced physical violence at the hands of their parents.
Yes, I agree again. This too is a huge, tragic problem these days and many of us have experienced hellacious situations from within our own families, which is why I can appreciate the emotional intelligence and circumspection used by various ministers, pastors, priests or other lectors when helping us engage the tough, triggering portions of the bible (such as the Akedah). But even then, sometimes, the emotional freight we carry has its own momentum and can't be stopped. It is the trauma that it is.
I've read a couple of interpretations and speculations that can help the reader escape some of the terribleness of the story. One is the possibility that Abraham trusted all along that God wouldn't really follow through and make him kill his son (this is hinted at in Hebrews 11). Another is the possibility that Isaac consented; this at least lessens the charge of murder a bit. And, well, another is the possibility that Abraham is thinking thoughts that aren't really from God, and God stops him before he can follow through -- tempting, but I'm not convinced that this is faithful to the intent of the author of Genesis.
Mostly, our group of lectors (and our priest!) were trying to reach for anything that would make this passage less awful. And, unlike Joshua, the passage can't be avoided; it comes up every year in our lectionary.
You're right about that, as you are about many things---it can't be avoided, and like so much in Genesis, the challenges we encounter in our reading come right at the beginning of the Bible rather than surprising us later in a more latent or subtle fashion.
I'm curious what detail you have in mind.
Essentially, although not simply, the detail I'm alluding to is that the Akedah narrative hinges on the weight of one of its central intertextual features: that Isaac wasn't just any child like any other child that could be born to any parents, but was a miracle child, one born by sheer Divine Providence and who becomes a typological figure providing the significance to the entirety of Abraham's faith in the near-sacrifice he makes of his child----whom he waited 20 years for in promise---and to which we read and at times flinch in disgust as the killing blade is raised.
Isaac is a superlative element of the narrative that needs to be identified, just like other features do within the cumulative chapters involving Abraham and Sarah. They all have to been taken together so they can then be seen as the prefiguring precedent of a pattern that they are, later seen similarly in Hannah and later still, in Mary the mother of Jesus.
I know you're already knowledgeable of biblical exegesis, PloverWing, so I'm not telling you anything you probably don't already know, but I thought I'd provide a reinforced emphasis to consider.