— Linda C J Turner
Trauma Therapist | Neuroscience & Emotional Intelligence Practitioner | Advocate for Women’s Empowerment
People often ask, “Why did you stay so long?”
But the real question is, why did I feel I had to?
This post isn’t about shame.
It’s not about justification.
It’s a testament.
To survival.
To resilience.
To the deeply human reasons why I tolerated abuse for over three decades.
This is my truth—written not for pity, but for witnessing.
How Did I Get Myself Into This Mess in the First Place?
The answer is layered.
After coming out of one difficult chapter of my life, I moved on too quickly.
I wasn’t grounded in my healing yet—I was still vulnerable, still carrying the ache of unfinished wounds. And then he came along. With what seemed like a ready-made family, a full life, and the promise of something solid.
I ignored the warning signs.
I felt them, of course.
That tiny tug in the gut.
The raised voice that wasn’t just passionate—it was intimidating.
The subtle digs, the mood swings, the red flags dressed up as charm.
But I was desperate to make things work this time.
I wanted to believe I could finally have the love I deserved.
The Cost of Resilience
I’ve always been resilient.
But resilience can be a double-edged sword.
I put up with things I never should have—things that broke my spirit, silenced my voice, and made me doubt my own reality. I tolerated emotional abuse. Psychological manipulation. Gaslighting so subtle it made me question whether I was the one losing my grip on reality.
And I kept telling myself:
“If I just understand him more deeply… if I learn how to manage his moods… if I support him through his wounds… then maybe I can finally make it work.”
I thought love was sacrifice.
I thought healing someone else’s pain would heal my own.
I thought tolerating pain was proof of strength.
When Therapy Becomes a Lifeline
I kept going to therapy—not to heal, but to cope.
To stay afloat.
To tread water in a sea of toxicity.
I was in survival mode.
Learning tools to keep myself regulated around someone who kept pulling the rug out from under me emotionally.
Trying to “do the work” while living in a home where honesty was punished and control was disguised as care.
I went against everything I believed in.
I bent my values until they cracked.
And all to prove to him—and maybe to myself—that I could make this relationship work.
That I wasn’t the failure this time.
But Here’s What’s True: I Wasn’t the Problem
It took me a long time to say this.
But I will not be silent anymore:
🔹 I endured abuse, not because I was weak, but because I was hopeful.
🔹 I stayed, not because I didn’t know better, but because I was trying so hard to love through the pain.
🔹 I tolerated the intolerable, because I had been conditioned to believe that being “understanding” meant swallowing my own needs.
I believed if I was good enough, patient enough, loving enough—he would change.
He didn’t.
And now I know: that was never my responsibility.
This Is My Testament
To anyone reading this who has endured too much, for too long:
I see you.
I was you.
This is my testament:
- To over three decades of endurance.
- To every red flag I ignored in the name of hope.
- To every silent tear cried behind closed doors.
- To every moment I lost myself trying to save someone else.
But now?
✨ I am no longer afraid to speak my truth.
✨ I am no longer willing to silence myself to protect someone else’s image.
✨ I am no longer interested in fixing people who refuse to take responsibility for their harm.
To Everyone Who Said “Why Didn’t You Leave?”
The better question is:
Why was I the only one who tried to heal what everyone else refused to name?
I stayed because I was kind.
I stayed because I was loyal.
I stayed because I believed in love.
But now, I believe in myself.
And that changes everything.
🕊 Final Words: Truth Is a Kind of Freedom
I’ve learned that honesty is healing.
That speaking the truth—even when it’s messy and complicated—is the beginning of reclaiming power.
I share this now not for attention or approval—but because I refuse to let shame or silence win.
So here it is:
I was abused.
I stayed too long.
I tried too hard.
But now I’m free.
And that is my truth.
💬 If this resonates with you, you are not alone. You are not weak. You are not broken. You are healing. And your story matters, too.
— Linda C J Turner
Trauma Therapist | Neuroscience & Emotional Intelligence Practitioner | Advocate for Women’s Empowerment
