There’s a moment in every survivor’s journey where they say: “I just want to be on my own.” And that statement is so often misunderstood – twisted, misread, or even deliberately distorted. Because what it doesn’t mean is running away. It doesn’t mean disappearing into the arms of someone new. And it certainly doesn’t mean breaking away for selfish reasons.

It means liberation.

When I said I wanted to come to Spain on my own, I meant exactly that. Not to run off with someone else. Not to mirror the choices he made. But to finally give myself the peace I’d craved for years – decades, even.

I didn’t want to leave just the country.
I wanted to leave behind control.
I wanted to leave behind emotional manipulation.
I wanted to leave behind the slow erosion of self-worth that came with living under the same roof as my abuser.

What They Never Understood

His family didn’t get it – maybe they couldn’t. Maybe it was easier to believe I’d done something dramatic, something scandalous, rather than face the truth of what I’d endured. But what I wanted wasn’t drama – it was dignity.

You see, when you’ve spent 30 years feeling alone in a relationship, doing the emotional labour, keeping the peace, shrinking yourself to avoid conflict, and quietly surviving the emotional and physical blows – then yes, choosing to live alone is not a breakdown.

It’s a breakthrough.

The Psychology of Choosing Solitude

From a psychological perspective, this decision is known as self-preservation. It’s a survival instinct rooted in the nervous system’s cry for safety. Prolonged exposure to domestic abuse – especially the kind that wears an invisible mask – wires your brain for hypervigilance, for self-doubt, for codependency.

So choosing to step away – from the house, the abuser, the dynamics, even the geography – is an act of deep nervous system healing.

I didn’t come to Spain to be with anyone.
I came to be with myself.
To hear my own voice.
To trust my instincts again.
To decide who I wanted in my space, and who no longer got the privilege of access.

I wanted to see my family on my terms.
Not under the threat of someone else’s jealousy, sabotage, or punishment.

30 Years Too Long

To the outside world, it may have looked like I left suddenly. But the truth is, I had been emotionally alone for 30 years. That’s not sudden – that’s endurance.

Abuse is not always loud. It’s not always physical. Often it’s a subtle, calculated, soul-crushing control that happens in the quiet corners of life – when you’re told how to dress, who you can talk to, when you’re accused of things you haven’t done, or made to feel crazy for simply expressing a boundary.

Eventually, you stop trying to explain.
You stop waiting for them to understand.
You just leave.

For Every Woman Who’s Been Misunderstood

If you’ve ever made the brave choice to walk away – and been shamed for it – please know this:

Your desire to be alone is not a red flag. It’s a red rescue flare. It signals that you’ve finally had enough, that your nervous system has cried, “No more,” and that your healing begins not in the arms of another, but in the sacred stillness of your own company.

You don’t need to justify your peace.
You don’t need to defend your healing.
You certainly don’t need to make others comfortable with your freedom.

You’re not running from anyone.
You’re finally walking towards yourself.