I Didn’t Know How to Leave

By Christina G. Shared with permission

“Healing takes time and asking for help is a courageous step.”

— Mariska Hargitay

Let me begin by saying I’m not going into every detail of my story, there isn’t enough time or space in one post for that, so I’ll do my best to give the important details. I am a very strong willed and very self sufficient person, I have also always been a people pleaser. I am diagnosed with ADHD with compulsive behaviors, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD, and generalized anxiety, for which I take medication and have been in therapy on and off for most of my life. I have always believed people are mostly good, and give everyone the benefit of doubt. If you take away anything, please make it the confidence to check in with friends and family when someone shows you a red flag, and don’t be ashamed to ask for opinions and help.

Summer of 2016

Let me take you back to the summer of 2016. I was a newly promoted manager, my friends and I went out on the weekends having the time of our lives, and I had just met a successful and attentive man who had the same goals I did. Life was looking up, I finally found a mix of meds that kept my brain on track and my emotions in check, and I felt like life was finally going in the right direction.

Six months later

Fast forward about 6 months: I found myself in the middle of child services issues, harassment, and someone else’s divorce. Cut and run right? This isn’t about the should-have, would-have though, real life doesn’t let you stop and assess in the moment, you make choices and you do your best to live with it. I won’t go into the nitty gritty, but for the sake of laying the foundation: I was love bombed, I was manipulated, and I was lied to. To this day I still don’t know exactly what was the truth, and what was the story concocted in his mind, but he said all the right things to make me feel like he NEEDED me, I was important, and I was doing the right thing.

How small my life got

My life was so completely intertwined and consumed by this man. I sold the home I worked so hard to purchase on my own so we could move somewhere with enough space for us and his kids I had agreed to care for; I switched jobs to be closed to home and the schools, I edited my schedules around his, I saw my friends less and less and even stopped talking to the ones he decided were “bad influences.” I stayed home more and more. When my family started asking questions I would quickly defend that we were just really busy, or change the subject, I was in deep.

The walls of my home were riddled with patches from punch holes, or items being thrown at them. I walked on eggshells to do my best to not say or do anything that would kick start a fight. I was the first one up in the morning to pack everyone in the house a fresh lunch, and I was the last one to bed each night ensuring everyone’s bags were ready, clean clothes, and clean house. I did everything I could to try and make everyone around me happy, and I had been seriously neglecting my own health and happiness. The fights got worse, and his behavior became more unstable and less predictable. I had alienated myself to the point of feeling like I had no one to reach out to, and I felt alone.

I would have told you it wasn’t abuse

If you had asked me then if I was being abused I would have quickly said no. I felt like every fight, every disloyalty, every insult, it was somehow my fault. I was so wrapped up in the good times, that I overlooked and accepted every excuse handed my way. Friends and family would often comment on “how spoiled” I was, the big beautiful home, the flowers, the gifts, and it made me feel guilty and like any negative feeling I might have was unjustified. I had tucked away any memory of what happened BEFORE the gifts came in, or the flowers were brought home.

Rock bottom

It was 2021 when things hit what felt like rock bottom. I had forgiven him too many times for the cheating, the lying, the manipulation, and the screaming matches. I finally gathered the courage to tell him I was done, I had been putting myself last for far too long and things were just not what I wanted or deserved. I was met with explosive fights and two separate staged suicide attempts. My mind was racing between if this was another manipulation tactic or a cry for help. Having mental health issues myself, I leaned into the cry for help theory and convinced him to start seeing a therapist. I agreed to give him another chance, support him through his journey, and be there for him as he confronted whatever he needed to work through.

When you push back, they evolve

Here’s the thing with abusive personality types: when you show them they can manipulate you, they keep doing it. When you push back, they evolve. When you catch on to their tricks, they get better at it. I was trapped in a relationship with a man who never saw the consequences of his actions, and knew exactly what to say to make me stay. He was not ready to take therapy seriously, nor did he truly believe he had anything to work on, it was an act, and a very unfortunate one.

The day I tried to leave

I finally reached out for help: I had no idea HOW to leave. I had no idea that trying to save myself was going to almost bring my life to an end. I thought I was doing the right thing being honest about leaving, I thought I was doing him a kindness by giving him a heads up, but what I was doing was allowing him the fuel he was looking for. While I was visiting a friend, gathering advice and getting insights on how to move forward, he was stalking me. I had no idea he was waiting for me outside, with nothing but blind rage and a firearm. I will spare the details of what happened next; I survived, he did not. That chapter had slammed shut in ways I could have never imagined, and what came next I could have never prepared for.

After

I spent the next week in the hospital; healing from emergency surgery, answering questions from friends, family, doctors, and the police. I was sedated, I was terrified, I was traumatized, and I had no idea what was real. I was caught between being sad that the person I once thought was my forever could do such a thing, how much he was hurting, and blaming myself for not doing more; on the other hand, I was embarrassed for not seeing the warning signs sooner, for not asking for help, and for continuing to make excuses for the way I was being treated. These conflicting thoughts bounced in my mind constantly until I couldn’t distinguish what was true and what I was hiding from even myself.

The people who showed up

The next few months were filled with a lot of tears, a lot of doctor appointments, and a whole lot of therapy. Shout out to my therapist who was a student at the time, because she never once allowed me to make excuses for him or his behaviors, and really helped me break out of the pattern of making myself the problem. My family checked in constantly, and although I would sometimes get very tired of talking about what happened, they never let me slip into the comfort of just boxing it away and moving on without learning and growing from the trauma. They got me to go back out into the world and rejoin life again. Friends I hadn’t seen in a long time were at my house, no questions asked, ready to hang out or cook dinner, they took me to get my hair washed when I couldn’t do it myself, and even got me back into activities I enjoyed. With the love and support of everyone around me, I began traveling again, I started painting again, and I looked at life with hope instead of feeling like it was over.

Building a life again

It was that love and support that led me to see the possibilities where I once only saw tragedies. I picked up my life and moved to a new town, a quiet town, one I often enjoyed visiting to go hiking. I pushed myself to new roles at work, I started traveling for work to help teach others how to be a more successful manager, and I even helped grand open a new salon from scratch. I leaned into things I loved and only allowed people into my life who bring joy. I’ve learned a lot; I’ve grown into a stronger, more stable version of myself, and never let the trauma drag me down. Without the people who loved me at my darkest moments, the ones where I couldn’t even recognize myself, I could have very easily used my experience as an excuse. I could have stayed in my comfort zone, I could have made myself smaller, I could have stopped experiencing life; but I couldn’t let him win. My support system WOULDN’T let him win.

Even when you think you have no one in your corner, there is always someone.

Why I tell this story

Don’t ever discount the power of a good friend, or the positivity of a loving family member. Even when you think you have no one in your corner, there is always someone. Someone just waiting for you to reach out, and sometimes that person is who can help save your life. I share my story every chance I get, because the more we talk about mental health, domestic violence, and abuse; the more we normalize needing help; the better the chances are someone won’t be too embarrassed or afraid to ask for it.

Sometimes life shows you the worst it has to make you really appreciate the good it has to offer, and sometimes you are a cautionary tale meant to save someone else’s life.