When people ask me how I got into an abusive relationship, it is never an easy question to answer. From the outside, it seems simple—why would any woman stay with someone who hurts her? But from my point of view, it happened slowly, almost invisibly, until I was trapped in a cycle I couldn’t recognize at first. Intimate partner abuse doesn’t start with bruises or broken bones. It often begins with love, attention, and the promise of safety.
At first, he was everything I thought I wanted. He was charming, attentive, and seemed to care for me more deeply than anyone ever had. He showered me with compliments and affection, making me feel special, even chosen. I didn’t see the warning signs in the small things—how he wanted to know where I was all the time, or how he made little comments about my friends and family that slowly distanced me from them. Back then, I told myself it was just because he loved me so much.
The control crept in gradually. He started deciding what I should wear, questioning who I talked to, and insisting he knew what was best for me. Whenever I pushed back, he would twist the situation and make me feel guilty, as though I was ungrateful or disloyal. I began to doubt myself, to believe that maybe I was the problem. That’s one of the hardest parts to explain—how abuse reshapes the way you see yourself.
By the time the insults turned into shouting and the shouting turned into hitting, I was already isolated and unsure of my own worth. He convinced me that no one else would want me, that I couldn’t make it on my own. The moments of violence were followed by apologies, tears, and promises that things would change. I wanted to believe him. I clung to the memory of the man I first met, hoping he would come back.
I didn’t “get into” intimate partner abuse in one decision or one moment. I slipped into it through a series of small steps, each one making the next harder to resist. Fear, love, shame, and hope were all mixed together. Leaving wasn’t just about walking out the door; it meant facing financial insecurity, loneliness, and the terrifying possibility of retaliation.
From the outside, it may look like weakness, but from inside, it felt like survival. I did what I thought I had to do to keep peace, to protect myself, and sometimes even to protect him. Understanding how I got into abuse is also part of understanding how I found the strength to get out. It took time, support, and the realization that I deserved better. And for other women still living it, I want them to know: you are not alone, and none of it is your fault.