“He Could Have Left—But Abusers Don’t Do the Decent Thing”
I really do hope he’s happy now.
Not in a bitter, sarcastic way—but genuinely, from the quiet, steady place I’ve fought hard to reclaim inside myself. I hope he finds peace, growth, whatever it is he was chasing all those years—at any cost, and often at mine.
But here’s the truth I had to learn the long, hard way:
He could have just left the marriage.
He could have sat down, spoken honestly, explained his unhappiness, and chosen the path of integrity.
He could have done the decent thing.
But abusers don’t do decent things.
They manipulate. They gaslight. They confuse. They control.
They don’t exit gently—they erode quietly, day by day, taking pieces of you with them.
They don’t seek truth—they twist it to fit the version of reality where they’re always the victim, never the one responsible.
For a long time, I couldn’t understand it. I kept trying to apply my own standards to his behavior.
“Why wouldn’t he just speak up?”
“Why lie, blame, and break things instead of walking away honestly?”
“Why make me feel like I was going mad when he was the one tearing the threads of our life apart?”
And the answer was heartbreakingly simple: I was judging him by my standards.
By my decency.
By my willingness to grow, to reflect, to choose peace over power.
But abusers don’t live by those standards. They live by control, by dominance, by a desperate need to feel superior—even if it means crushing others in the process. They don’t leave quietly because that would mean giving up their grip on your mind, your emotions, your identity.
And so, they stay—not to love, not to nurture, but to deplete.
There’s something deeply painful about realizing someone you once loved could have simply left. That the chaos, the abuse, the trauma, the years of confusion were not inevitable. That there was a choice—and they just chose harm.
But there’s also something powerfully freeing in finally saying:
It wasn’t my fault.
I didn’t deserve it.
And no, he wasn’t “just unhappy” or “lost” or “misunderstood.”
He was unkind.
He was dishonest.
He was abusive.
And that’s not on me.
So yes, I hope he’s happy now. I really do.
Because I am no longer responsible for his misery, his choices, or his consequences.
That burden has been lifted.
And in its place, I’ve built something far more valuable than approval or closure—
I’ve built peace.
