When I made the decision to leave behind an isolated area in France and move to Spain, it was meant to be a fresh start—a chance for healing, peace, and a new chapter in my life. It was supposed to be my move, one I made for myself, to take control of my future. But, as so often happens in abusive relationships, my partner begged me to bring him along, pleading with me that he would change, that he would seek the therapy he needed to stop the abuse and begin a new life in Spain. Like many promises before, it was nothing more than empty words.
I allowed myself to believe, once again, that the person I loved could change. After all, isn’t that what we are taught in relationships? That love is transformative? That people can grow, that they can become better versions of themselves? But in this case, the truth was different. The cycle of abuse continued, and no amount of promises could alter the reality of the situation. The therapy he promised, the changes he claimed he would make, never came. Instead, I found myself once again stuck in a relationship where control and manipulation were the driving forces.
Over time, I sought guidance from professionals, hoping for some clarity about why I had stayed, why I kept hoping for a change that never came. And the truth, while painful, was necessary for my healing. I was told that it’s almost impossible for someone who has been abusive for years to change. The most difficult realization was this: abusers don’t want to change. They thrive on the power and control they have over others. It is not just a temporary behavior or a flaw they can fix. It is part of their character, a core aspect of who they are, and it’s what makes them tick. The abuse is not a mistake; it is intentional. And the longer it goes on, the more ingrained that behavior becomes.
At first, I felt a deep sense of guilt. How could I have not seen it sooner? How could I have let myself get caught in this cycle of hope and despair? But slowly, I began to understand that this was not about me failing. I had been manipulated, deceived, and caught in a web of lies and false promises. The abuser’s words were designed to keep me trapped in a never-ending loop of expectation and disappointment. The truth was, I wasn’t responsible for his behavior, and I was never going to be able to fix him.
The move to Spain, initially intended as a fresh start for both of us, became a turning point. It was here, in this new environment, that I was finally able to see things clearly. I had been holding on to the hope of a future together, hoping that love alone could change him. But the more I reflected, the more I realized that it was not love that needed to change—it was my understanding of the situation. I had to let go of the idea that he could ever be the person I wanted him to be.
The professionals I spoke to explained to me that the reason change is so difficult, if not impossible, for abusers is that the power and control they gain from the abuse become so entrenched in their psyche. The control is what gives them satisfaction, what fuels their sense of worth and power. For someone who has lived with these patterns for years, the thought of relinquishing that control is unbearable. They might say the right things, promise change, and even seek therapy, but in the end, it is not about healing; it’s about maintaining control.
When I learned this, it was as though a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I stopped blaming myself. I stopped hoping for change that was never going to come. I began to see myself—not as someone who failed in this relationship—but as someone who had made the right choice to leave. I had the courage to walk away from someone who could never truly love me the way I deserved, and that was the first step toward healing.
Now, looking back, I realize that the move to Spain was not just a geographical shift. It was a psychological and emotional turning point. It allowed me to break free from the constant cycle of manipulation and control, to reclaim my sense of self, and to start anew. I may have moved physically to a new country, but it was the emotional and mental distance that was the real salvation.
Today, I know that love is not enough to fix someone who does not want to change. I also know that it is not my responsibility to bear the burden of another person’s failure to address their own issues. I can’t change the past, but I can create a future where I am safe, loved, and respected. I can heal, rebuild, and move forward without the shadow of abuse lingering over me.
For those who find themselves in similar situations, I hope this serves as a reminder that you are not to blame for the actions of someone who is unwilling to change. It is never easy to leave, especially when you have invested so much hope in the possibility of things improving. But the truth is that you cannot change someone who has no desire to change. You are not responsible for their actions. You are only responsible for yourself, for your healing, and for your happiness. And you deserve that, above all else.
Leaving was not just a physical move to Spain—it was a personal liberation. It was the moment I took control of my life and my future. And that, in the end, is what saved me.
