The Art of Survival: Why the Beginning Didn't Look Like an Ending

The Question That Stings: "Why Didn't You Just Leave?"

We’ve all seen the videos. A brave woman stands in front of a camera, baring her soul about the domestic shadows she escaped, only to be met with a comment section full of: “Why did you stay so long?”

It’s a question that feels like a second blow.

I’m starting this blog because I want to answer that. I want to explain how you can go from an honors student with an art scholarship to a person who doesn't recognize herself in the mirror. I want to talk about how the "bad" doesn't start strong; it starts so small you think it’s just part of the scenery.

But to understand the end, you have to understand the beginning. And the beginning was actually… pretty good.

Freshman Year: The Prayer Circle

My story with him didn't start in a dark alley or a burst of drama. It started at a high school prayer circle.

There was no "love at first sight" movie magic. He was just a cute, interesting guy who introduced himself after the final "Amen." We had a brief connection, but life moved on. He moved away, and I went back to being a typical teenager: I worked at Kroger, I poured my soul into my art, and I did well in my classes.

I was "me." I was whole.

The Return and the "90%"

Fate—or what I thought was fate—brought him back during our Junior year. When we ran into each other again, it felt like a sign.

I know what people say about "rebellious" teens. My parents hated him. But I wasn't dating him to spite them. I was dating him because, for about 90% of the time, he was exactly what I thought I needed. He:

• Supported my dreams of going to art school.

• Listened to me when I talked.

• Held down a job.

• Seemed to be bettering himself (he even said he quit smoking - spoiler it was a lie).

During those years, there were no red flags. There was just a boy who felt like true love. Boy was I wrong about that one.

The Golden Window

By the time I walked across the stage at graduation in May, I was pregnant (my daughter was born that October). Even then, my life felt like it was on tracks. I had a beuatiful daughter, a partner I thought was supportive of my goals, my job at Kroger, and a major scholarship to art school.

I remember the school even being so supportive they let me bring my newborn to class a couple of times. I had my daughter, my art, and the man I thought was my partner. I was still on the path to my dream life.

I didn't know that the "other 10%"—the small lies and the slow erosion of who I was—was about to take over. The total isolation and control that will become my day to day life for ten years. Feeling like I had to protect my child at all costs.

Why I’m Sharing This

I’m writing this for the woman currently in her "90% good" phase, wondering why things feel slightly off. I’m writing it for the person asking "why did she stay?"

It’s easy to leave a monster. It’s much harder to leave the person you thought was your best friend.