Why stay?

It's the biggest question asked by anyone who hasn't been in a domestic abuse situation. I get it. I asked myself the same things: If it's so bad why not leave? Why would you stay with somebody who treats you like that? Don't you understand you deserve better? 

They're all valid, reasonable questions. And while I don't have the answers, I have some insights.

Domestic abuse doesn't start as the screaming matches, threats and intimidation. It doesn't come through the front door announcing its arrival. It sneaks in through the back window and lurks in the shadows. Hiding around corners, only showing it's true face in private. In my case, it started with "forgetting" boundaries. 

The clearest example that comes to mind came about 6months into dating. We were in a long distance relationship and he had gotten us tickets to a Harry Potter theme Christmas dance. It was in his hometown and would be the first time I was meeting most of his friends. I was excited but naturally a bit nervous. 

He requested to go as a couple from another fandom. I agreed on the condition we still behave as ourselves (he had a habit of method acting as different characters if he was upset). As soon as we got to the restaurant this boundary was tossed aside.

 He swaggered up to the hostess and asked for a table for two in a gruff British accent. It was a busy Saturday night, so the hostess shifted uncomfortably, and asked me for a name to put in. He interrupted, leaning heavily on the host stand and giving the name of the character he was dressed as. 

I was furious. I went outside, not bothering to wait for him, and sat on the metal benches despite the fact it was late December in Indiana, and I was in a satin dress with no coat. He plopped down next to me smiling asking "Why so glum luv?". When I asked him if he had forgotten my only request for the evening, he instantly did a 180 and apologized profusely. He claimed he got wrapped up in the excitement of the evening and it wouldn't happen again. He professed his love, and begged for forgiveness.

I didn't want to stay mad and ruin the evening for everyone. It wasn't THAT bad, and it was an arbitrary boundary (spoiler alert boundaries by nature aren't arbitrary), so I dropped it. What I didn't realize was that in that moment I had accidentally set a precedent.

The pattern repeated itself.  Escalating just a bit each time. It happened infrequently at first. Just once every few weeks. I brushed it off as he and I figuring out each other's needs. It became more frequent until it was so often that it no longer registered as abnormal. 

Every time a boundary was crossed the apology got a little shorter and the blame got shifted just a little more. Before I knew it I was apologizing for saying that I was uncomfortable with him saying yes without my knowledge to his two out of state friends (whom I had never met) coming to stay in our home for an indeterminate amount of time. 

That alone should have been enough. However, this was 4 months into the pandemic. I was still immunocompromised from my chemo and radiation treatments. I had never met these women before, and he had only met them once previously, at a convention several years ago. 

He made a point of telling me that I was putting him in a bad spot because he had already agreed. We argued back and forth for hours before he sighed heavily and said he supposed we would just have to pay for them to get a local hotel room (which we never discussed and definitely couldn't afford at the time).

So why stay?

I took to calling it the paper heart effect. When you try to cut out a perfect paper heart but one side isn't quite right, you trim it just a little in an attempt to improve the overall heart. But now the other side is lopsided, so you trim again. Back and forth, back and forth, just a little more each time. But as your frustration grows so do the over corrections. Until eventually you're holding onto scraps that look nothing like what you intended.

 Anyone from the outside would tell you to throw it out. But they didn't see how hard you tried, the work that was put in. The parts you cut away and sacrificed that got you to this place.

Domestic abuse makes you trim parts of yourself away. Convinced its for the betterment of the relationship. It's small, nearly imperceptible at first. I didn't realize how much I had trimmed away, how much of what made me "me" I had voluntarily left behind. I was left to question how much of me was still my own. 

It became hard to separate what was "me" and what was me, cut down to better suit his needs.