Truth After Trauma

I once met someone at a time when I was vulnerable and coming out of a difficult chapter in my life. Sophomore year of college. At first he seemed lighthearted, optimistic and easy to talk to. Our conversations felt effortless, and I mistook that connection for something safe and healing. I believed his outlook on life was exactly what I needed.

As time went on, the dynamic slowly shifted. What started as inconsistency turned into emotional confusion. There were moments of charm and affection followed by anger, distance, and control. I found myself constantly questioning my own reactions, excusing behavior that made me uncomfortable, and believing promises that things would change.

When we became official, the highs were intoxicating. He could be attentive, generous, and fun – especially when things were calm. But during conflict, a very different side emerged. Arguments escalated quickly, often fueled by jealousy and insecurity. I was criticized, insulted, and made to feel ashamed of my past and my worth. Apologies always followed, and I stayed because I convinced myself the good moments outweighed the bad.

Over time, emotional abuse became normalized. I learned to walk on eggshells, to manage his moods, and to prioritize keeping the peace over protecting myself. I told myself I could leave whenever I wanted, even as I stayed longer than I planned. Fear, guilt, and exhaustion kept me stuck.

Eventually, the situation escalated into something much darker. Manipulation turned into physical intimidation and violence. There were moments when I was hurt, restrained, or threatened, leaving me frozen in fear and unsure how to react. I learned to stay quiet, to comply, and to do whatever I could to keep situations from getting worse. I lived in a state of constant anxiety, never knowing what version of him I would face.

After these incidents, he would apologize, minimize what had happened, or act is if nothing occurred at all. I began to doubt my own reality and question whether it was “really that bad.” I stayed because I was exhausted, scared, and convinced that things would improve if I just tried harder or waited longer.

What made it harder to leave was how responsible I felt for his emotions. He used guilt, fear, and desperation to keep me tied to him, making me believe that leaving would cause more harm than staying. I was focused on surviving each day rather than imagining a way out.

What kept me silent was not weakness, but survival. I was trying to protect my family, maintain appearances, and convince myself that enduring pain was better than causing more chaos. Looking back, I see how deeply trapped I was in a cycle of abuse disguised as love.

This experience taught me that intensity is not the same as connection, and kindness does not cancel cruelty. Love should never make you feel afraid, worthless, or responsible for someone else’s destruction. Leaving was not easy but choosing myself was the most important thing I ever did.

Sharing this now is part of reclaiming my voice. Physical abuse often hides behind apologies and good days, but it is still abuse. And no one ever deserves it.