It wasn’t until my partner had choked me four times in a fit of rage that I finally decided to look up what domestic abuse really meant.
Four times! Each incident felt like I was giving him permission to hurt me again. After each assault, I didn’t expect the heartfelt apology or a plea for forgiveness—which I never received—but I was hoping for some acknowledgment of my loyalty. Didn’t he realize how fortunate he was to have a girlfriend (and later a wife) who prioritized his welfare by not involving the authorities or sharing what happened? Shouldn’t I have received some recognition for my loyalty?
When I eventually confided in a domestic violence counselor, my mother, and a few close friends, I was stunned to find that the assumption was he had physically hit me. That’s the common understanding of domestic abuse, and I had shared that belief too—until he bypassed those actions and went straight for my throat. Literally.
It was my best friend who called me out on my denial. She questioned why I referred to the incidents as “what happened in Vegas” instead of simply saying “when he choked me…again.” She also reminded me that not every incident occurred during a drunken stupor—a detail I often overlooked to make it more palatable.
Opening up and reclaiming my voice forced me to reassess everything, including my values as a woman, mother, and independent professional. I began to talk, read, and research. I meticulously marked passages in Lundy Bancroft’s book “Why Does He Do That: Inside The Mind of Angry and Controlling Men.” I learned that abuse can take various forms. I struggled with the idea of being a victim versus a perpetrator, realizing I wasn’t completely innocent in past relationships. I had acted violently too, which led me to believe this was some kind of karmic payback. However, I discovered that the critical difference between anger and abuse lies in the desire for power and control. Both forms of behavior are wrong and require significant inner work. When abuse becomes a consistent pattern aimed at dismantling equality, it creates a much more challenging path.
Another realization was that abuse is a choice. It’s not the influence of alcohol, military experiences, or absent parents that causes it. Abuse is learned behavior that can manifest in various ways. While external factors like substance abuse or traumatic experiences can exacerbate it, they are not the root cause. The burden of overcoming abuse lies in addressing the choice to be abusive.
My marriage fell apart. My reactions changed. I developed a heightened trauma response whenever tensions rose, especially if alcohol was involved. On those nights, I found myself sleeping with sharp objects nearby, hiding my keys under my pillow, and texting neighbors or my mom to check if they were awake. My body trembled, and my jaw quaked with anxiety.
I’ve had arguments and intense disagreements before, where emotions ran high, and objects were thrown. But those moments never filled me with fear or terror. The aspect of safety planning was an entirely new and uncomfortable experience.
So why share this? My confidence has taken a hit. The mixed feelings of guilt and gratitude swirl in my mind daily. I feel guilt for staying, for appearing weak, for hiding my emotions, and for being disingenuous. But there’s also gratitude for having a home, a steady income, and a partner who occasionally helps with household tasks and parenting. A man who acknowledged his actions and briefly sought therapy. However, if I’m honest, the harm is done. The fact that moving forward had to be on his terms was just another form of control. He urged me to keep my feelings hidden, to tell no one, and not to ruin his reputation, all while pleading for me to stay. It’s such a textbook scenario, yet when someone has so deeply infiltrated your mind and shattered your resolve, leaving becomes an incredibly complex decision.
I’ve resolved that my healing journey will proceed on my own timeline, free from anyone else’s demands. Trying to conform to an abuser’s rules only leads to greater fear, manipulation, and emptiness. The cycle continues until all that remains is a shell of who you used to be.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
- Reach out immediately if you suspect any form of abuse.
- Arm yourself with information. I searched for terms like “can someone stop being abusive?” and “can we attend therapy together for abuse?” The answers are yes and no, respectively. Stopping abuse requires extensive individual and group work. Most marriage counselors won’t see couples where physical abuse is involved, as it is fundamentally an abuser’s issue, not a couple’s problem. A competent counselor will not place any blame on the victim.
- Establish a safety plan, even if you think you’ll never need it.
- Remember your identity. Your strength and worth are inherent. No one deserves violence, regardless of how your partner tries to manipulate your self-worth. This situation is not your fault, regardless of how much blame your partner attempts to place on you.
- Don’t face it alone. When I finally spoke out, I found that no one abandoned me. Instead, they were supportive and honest, standing by my side as I began the arduous process of leaving.
After the last incident, when I found myself gasping for air on the grimy floor of a Las Vegas hotel as he minimized my suffering, I finally took the first step. I am not dead. I am here, and I am strong. I knew that if I stayed, it would happen again, and I feared he recognized that too.
For further insights, feel free to check out this blog post, which touches on similar themes, as well as this resource that addresses addiction recovery. Additionally, you may find this excellent resource helpful for information on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
This article recounts a harrowing personal journey through domestic abuse, detailing the author’s realization and eventual steps toward healing. It emphasizes the importance of understanding that abuse is a choice, the necessity for safety planning, and the value of seeking support. The narrative highlights the complexities of leaving an abusive relationship while reclaiming one’s strength and identity.