Life after Domestic Violence
"I would never stay with someone who hit me." "I don't get why she stays with him." "He beats her and she won't leave." People toss out lines like these whenever they notice a woman caught in an abusive relationship. What I tell them now is simple: you cannot predict the future, and you should never swear you won't do something. I say that with full conviction, because I used to make those exact judgments about other women. Then it happened to me.
I was fortunate in one sense. My relationship never turned physical. But abuse does not require a fist to count. Verbal cruelty wrecks a person too. Many women in these situations become skilled at hiding what is happening, though a few signs tend to slip through. Think of a woman wearing long sleeves and turtlenecks in the middle of summer. Is she covering bruises? And how would you even recognize it if you were the one living it?
Dependency comes first. The whole machinery of an abusive relationship runs on control, and control runs on need. A man works to make you depend on him for everything. He might push you to leave your job and hand over access to your bank account. Don't. Keep working, and keep your own money within reach. My last partner leaned on me to walk away from my job and made a point of belittling my career because the paycheck was small.
Isolation is the second tactic. Cut a person off from friends and family and suddenly there is no one left to confide in, no safety net underneath. On top of that comes shame. You start believing nobody could possibly understand your situation, so you say nothing. Say something anyway. It might be what saves you.
Then there is the mental part, which holds the other two together. Wearing someone down with words is how an abuser keeps them dependent and alone. The insults repeat: you're stupid, you're ugly. The one I heard most was that no one else would ever want me, that I was lucky to have him. The truth runs the other direction. He was the lucky one.
Men who abuse tend to carry a set of primitive beliefs and raw insecurities: they're unhappy with their own lives, eaten up by jealousy, uncertain about themselves in the bedroom. None of that is your problem to fix. What you need is the nerve to walk away, and you are far from the only woman who has had to find it. Sometimes a single phone call is the whole beginning. There is a life waiting on the other side of this.
I remember the day I left as clearly as anything. He threw me out of his house, and I had nothing to restart with. The relationship had already damaged my ties with my family and nearly derailed my career. One phone call changed that. I began repairing things with my mother and putting my work back together. The possessions came back in time, but I was still broken inside. Depression pulled me down hard. I felt sad, furious, and worthless, and I decided I never wanted another relationship as long as I lived. I was wrong about that last part. Love found me again.
Talking helped. I keep most things to myself by nature, yet I understood I could not carry this quietly. If a psychologist is out of reach financially, local support groups for survivors of domestic violence are there, and many church organizations offer counseling at no cost. Growing closer to God steadied me as well.
Rebuilding your relationships matters more than almost anything else. The people around you can listen while you name what you feel, help your confidence come back, and remind you that you are not standing alone. One caution: don't rush into another romance. Learn how to be in a healthy relationship with your friends and family first.
After that comes the practical repair work. Fixing your credit, finding a place of your own, going back to school, whatever you lost while you were with him. Putting those pieces back in order rebuilds confidence too, step by step.
These are the things that worked for me after I got out. Everyone's situation is different, and some are far more dangerous than others, so if you think you need serious help, talk to a professional. - Heather Browning, MBA, BA