Why I Stayed
Content Warning: Domestic Violence & Abuse
Author’s Note: I have pulled from my personal experiences of Intimate Partner Violence (IPV) for this piece and have therefore elected to use the pronouns she/her for the victim or survivor, and he/him for the abuser. Importantly, any gender (male, female, non-binary, etc) can be victims or abusers. My description of IPV focuses on the abuse that occurs between opposite sex partners, however domestic violence happens between same-sex couples, within families, and against the ederly. Even children can victimize their own parents and siblings.
The homicide of Gabby Petito has brought up a lot of unpleasant memories for me. While we do not yet have the full details of what happened, many victims and survivors of intimate partner violence are able to fill in the blanks to her tragic ending. From my perspective, the police bodycam footage shows a terrified woman covering up for a violent and abusive partner. He is calm and collected because despite what many mistakenly believe, abusers are not people with anger issues who simply lost their cool. He is in complete control and able to flip the abuse off as easy as a light switch. The 911 calls appear to corroborate this; he attacks her and locks her out of her van while she, in desperation, slaps him through the window so that she can get back in and avoid being stranded. When the police finally reach the scene, she is ‘hysterical’, as an 18th century doctor might say, while he is simply a sane man who’s been stricken with a crazy girlfriend.
This is all speculation, of course. While we now know that Gabby was strangled to death a few days later, we don’t truly know who killed her and unfortunately, we may never know. But I, like so many others, have been there before; making excuses for a partner after they attacked me because I feared what could happen to me if I didn’t.
I think the most frustrating thing that comes out of these situations (aside from the fact that primarily pretty young white women grab the media’s attention) is the inevitable victim blaming that occurs. I know, I know; I shouldn’t read the comments on these articles and posts, but I always feel pulled in, hoping that this time it will be different. Though many do rightfully see these women as the victims of terrible injustices, there are still some who question why she was with him in the first place. “Why didn’t she leave him?”, the keyboard warriors exclaim, often in all caps. They would “NEVER put up with such things!” Now I’m a little ashamed to admit this but I used to think this way too. “If my partner ever laid a finger on me, I would be out the door!” Physical abuse was a thick, immovable line in the sand, and if anyone I dated crossed it, I would not hesitate to get out.
But when it happened to me, I didn’t get out, at least not at first. Predictably, the reality of domestic violence is far more complicated. The thought, “I should leave him” occurred to me at least a hundred times before I ever attempted it, and I even tried to end the relationship twice before I was able to sever it for good. It takes an average of seven attempts for a victim of intimate partner violence to get out of the relationship. It isn’t easy. When it comes down to it, I think we need to reframe the question. It’s difficult to explain why I didn’t just leave, but I can tell you why I stayed as long as I did.
There are countless reasons that a person remains in an abusive relationship. They may share children together and fear what might happen to them if they are unable to gain full custody. Their abuser could have extremely tight control over their finances and they’re afraid that they could be worse off if they leave. Some have been completely isolated from their family and friends and lack the support system to help them overcome the challenges they will inevitably face. Others might feel ashamed that they have found themselves in this situation to begin with and the realization that to ask someone for help is to admit that you “put up with it” in the first place. All of these combined with a deflated self-esteem can even lead a victim to believe that they’ve earned the cruelty that is inflicted upon them and are unworthy of anything better. While I was lucky to not have had any children with my abuser, the other reasons are true to varying degrees. If I had to narrow it down to the primary reasons I stayed though, they are threefold: love, fear, and the addictive combination of the two.
People often underestimate the element of love in an abusive relationship. As an outsider looking in, it’s easy to say that it’s not real love if abuse is present. With the power of hindsight and the benefit of being in a healthy and reciprocal, loving relationship, I agree wholeheartedly. However, when you’re inside the situation, and unable to see through the fog of what’s been created, it’s easy to misinterpret. I stayed because I loved the person I thought he was; the person he pretended to be.
It’s common for abusers to begin the relationship with a facade, masquerading as the partner of your dreams. They make you believe that you are special, that THEY are special. That your love is a fairy tale romance. The beginning of the relationship was euphoric and I had never experienced anything like it. My abuser repeatedly told me how beautiful I was, how I was the best person that he had ever known, that he had never loved anyone like me, and so on and so forth. You know, typical bullshit. He kept it up as long as he could but this eventually fell apart. As many survivors will affirm, they didn’t realize that they had fallen for a narcissist with sociopathic tendencies until much later because revealing their true selves would severely limit their dating options to the type who writes love letters to convicted murderers.
Fissures began to appear in the relationships in the form of slammed doors and name calling, which were incorrectly attributed as anger issues and promptly dismissed with what felt like a genuine apology. “He is sincerely trying to work on himself.” I thought as he now talked out his feelings instead of resorting to screaming. Our relationship returned to its original state of bliss and I quickly forgot about the incidents that made me question his behavior. As time passed and I believed that his mistakes were behind him, we became more serious and he eventually moved in with me. However, it wasn’t long before another, wider crack appeared. Slammed doors became broken dishes and the verbal abuse was now accompanied by him restraining me by the shoulders, as if he wanted to force me to experience all of his anger. I did not understand the escalating nature of intimate partner violence, and because he had not yet physically hurt me, I did not know that I was a victim of it.
Fear eventually found its way to me as the relationship became more turbulent. The realization that I was being abused only hit me after I made the decision to record myself confronting him over his infidelity. As things became heated and he continued to deny the affair, I told him that I still wanted to end it and decided to lock myself in the bedroom. It only took him ten seconds to break down the door and throw me to the ground. I still remember him towering over me, yelling and spitting in my face with one fist raised as if he was about to beat me. Fortunately it stopped there. His face changed and he stepped back, apologizing between sobs, claiming that he lost control. He promised to get help for his anger because he wanted to change for me. When he accidentally found out about the recording (it began to play back the event inside my purse the next day) he said he was embarrassed that I felt the need to do it in the first place and asked that I delete it. I promised I would, but instead sent it to a friend to keep safe before deleting all evidence of its existence.
I convinced myself that I was staying because I loved him and was an understanding person, believing that people make mistakes and can change their ways. In reality, my self-confidence was gone and I was ashamed of the situation that I was in. I blamed myself for what he had done to me and feared what others would think if they discovered that I had failed so miserably. I was also afraid of what would happen if we ended things. Would he retaliate? Would I have to leave the city that I had made my home for the last two years? What about my job? And who would want me now that I was damaged?
As my fear and unhappiness grew, so did his desperation to maintain control over the relationship. Veiled threats were made in the form of casual conversation, such as describing the damage he could inflict on a person with the different types of pocket knives he routinely carried. “The serrated blade would cause more damage but the straight edge is better when you want to stab a person multiple times” he’d say, as if I was interested in that information. While he didn’t own a gun, he assured me that he could borrow one from his brother or best friend whenever he wanted; you know, in case he ever “needed to protect” me. He began to come home to our apartment at random times during his shifts because he was just next door and wanted to “check-in and see that I was OK.” I was required to let him know when I went places and needed to text him immediately when I got home so that he wouldn’t worry about me. As I became more confined in the relationship, his behavior became more unpredictable and aggressive. He once tried to throw his keys at me. They missed (thankfully) and zoomed past my head, slicing through our vertical blinds. When I finally found the courage to stand up for myself, he threatened to harm my cat as a means to silence me.
I feared for my safety and thought about leaving him on a regular basis, but was always pulled back in by the periods of calm that accompany the cycle of abuse. One moment I would be sick to my stomach, afraid for my life, and dreading the steps I needed to take to get out. The next moment he was hugging me, apologizing for his behavior, and the sickness and fear left my body as if I had taken an incredibly strong pain killer. I didn’t recognize the person I had become and couldn’t understand why I felt so dependent on him.
Trauma bonding happens during the cycle of abuse. I experienced extreme lows when being abused and the fear, stress, and anxiety caused my body to release the hormones cortisol and adrenaline. My heart would race as my fight or flight response was activated. In those moments I could only focus on how best to protect myself. When the threat finally ended, he would pull me back in with apologies and promises to change. The calm atmosphere washed over me and the low feeling was replaced with a high as my body released oxytocin and dopamine in response. These high points felt so much more intense with this partner because the chemical reactions created from the abuse cycle are extreme. As his victim, I literally became addicted to the ways in which my body chemically responded to both the fear and love I experienced in those moments.
My escape from that relationship, and ability to overcome the trauma bond, began a year before I actually left. I began opening up to some of my friends about what was happening and was encouraged to seek domestic violence counseling, which slowly helped to rebuild my confidence while gently educating me on what I was experiencing. The day I decided to leave was the day he strangled me and tried to break my wrist. I had learned that the presence of strangulation in an abusive relationship made it seven times more likely that my partner would eventually kill me, and that reality finally flipped a switch in my head. The risk of being killed now superseded the love, fear, and trauma bond addiction that had kept me in the cycle for so long.
When I finally started to tell everyone else in my life what I had experienced and that I was ready to leave, I was overwhelmed by the support. My counselor helped me to develop a plan to trick my partner into thinking that we would stay together as long as he moved out and worked on himself. When he finally moved to his mother’s house, the property manager of my building had my locks changed within an hour, sent him a letter banning him from the building, and alerted the police officer who lived down the hall. My mother and aunt took time off of work and drove several hours to help me to quickly pack up my things. Friends provided me with places to stay, while my former graduate advisor, fellow grad student, and their partners helped me to move all of my belongings into a storage unit. Relatives and their friends gave me money, while others provided endless emotional support over the phone. My coworkers covered my shifts at work, and my department’s director had my abuser’s picture placed at the front desk with a warning to discreetly call the police if he came in.
The domestic violence center that I had been going to for counseling helped me to file for an emergency protective order. Later that night, a SWAT team arrived at his residence to collect all of his weapons. I then stayed in a safe house until the court date. Facing him in person in order to procure a protective order was unnerving, but a couple of my friends, as well as a volunteer domestic violence advocate, stayed with me the entire time. The courthouse even arranged for a police officer to escort me in and out of the building in case he tried to attack me. The domestic violence center arranged for me to have a lawyer and the court proceedings had been set up in such a way that I would only have to be in the same room with him after an agreement had been made. When the judge made the protective order official, my relief was indescribable. I had made it out.
I am thankful to have received the help that I did, but I recognize that my experience is not the norm. Whenever I read comments questioning why someone like Gabby “didn’t just leave”, I wonder: Do they understand the way victims have been deceived by their abusers to love a false persona? Do they realize the many layers of fear that keep someone in an abusive relationship? Do they know how difficult it is to break a trauma bond? Do they understand what it takes to get out?
I hope they do now.
RESOURCES:
If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, please visit thehotline.org for resources and assistance.
For anyone currently experiencing abuse or recovering from abuse, please read Lundy Bancroft’s “Why Does He Do That?” This book helped me to both understand my abuser and strengthen my determination to never look back.
Family members, friends, coworkers, or anyone who is worried about a loved one’s situation, The most important thing you can do is to be there for them. They may not be ready to leave but could be open to counseling or other resources. Refrain from judging them and instead do what you can to help build up their self-confidence. Make sure that they know that there is nothing to be ashamed about and provide as much support as you are able to when they are ready to escape.
https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2021/10/12/gabby-petito-strangled-experts-say-its-common-intimate-partner-violence/8426282002/
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/21/us/gabby-petito-homicide.html
