A personal story of survival, silence, and reclaiming power.
On October 16th, my life changed.
That night, after a physically abusive incident, he left the house — not in shame, not in reflection, not to apologize —
But to go out on the town.
To join his friends.
To sit in a bar, drink, laugh, and socialize as if nothing had happened —
As if he hadn’t just tried to break my arm.
That was my turning point.
Never again would that man — or any man — lay a finger on me.
But here’s what many don’t understand about abuse survivors:
We don’t always leave in a blaze of glory.
We don’t always scream or call the police or storm out with bags packed.
Sometimes, we stay silent.
We stay low.
We lay still, like prey — waiting for the danger to pass.
That night, I did what many survivors do.
I pretended it didn’t affect me.
I moved quietly.
I made no sudden moves.
I hid in plain sight, calm on the outside, terrified inside.
But I was ready.
👜 My car keys were already in my handbag.
🛂 My passport and personal documents were hidden.
🏦 My private bank accounts were locked down.
📄 My files — backed up and secure.
📞 A plan — quietly in place.
And yes, I even gave him a lift into town — just to make sure he didn’t take my car with him.
As he stepped out, he smiled and said:
“Don’t worry, I’ll be having a good time.”
A chilling sentence — not just for its callousness, but for what it implied:
He had already lined up his next victim.
Already moved on, emotionally detached, as if destroying someone’s trust, body, and spirit meant nothing.
And maybe to him, it didn’t.
But here’s what he didn’t know:
That ride into town was his exit from my life.
His last chance to never use my kindness, my car, or my silence against me.
And me?
I was relieved.
Not heartbroken.
Not longing.
Not desperate.
Relieved.
That he was gone.
That the violence didn’t escalate that night.
That I was still intact — shaken, but safe.
That I had survived again.
And this time — I wasn’t going to let it happen again.
🔓 That night marked the end of the beginning.
The end of:
- Physical abuse
- Financial control
- Psychological games
- Silent manipulation
- “I’m sorry” followed by more cruelty
- Feeling like a prisoner in my own home
And the beginning of:
- My voice
- My safety
- My space
- My money, my choices, my time
- My healing
🧠 From a psychological perspective, that moment matters.
Because leaving an abusive relationship isn’t just about packing bags — it’s about preparing the mind.
Survivors often:
- Disassociate in moments of danger to survive the emotional overwhelm
- Stay silent to de-escalate unpredictable outbursts
- Minimize abuse internally because no one else is validating it externally
- Make silent preparations because challenging the abuser openly is dangerous
This is called fawn mode — the nervous system’s way of seeking safety by appeasing the threat.
But behind that fawning face?
Is a woman slowly, carefully building her escape plan.
A woman reclaiming her autonomy, one secret step at a time.
💬 If you’re reading this and you’re still in that phase — the quiet phase, the preparation phase —
I see you.
I’ve been you.
And I promise: there is life beyond this.
You don’t need to justify your pain.
You don’t need to wait until it gets worse.
Your instincts aren’t wrong.
Your life doesn’t need to be controlled.
You deserve safety — not survival.
You deserve peace — not performance.
✨ October 16th wasn’t my ending.
It was the end of the beginning.
And what came next?
Belongs to me.
And only me.
#TheEndOfTheBeginning #DomesticAbuseAwareness #PsychologicalAbuse #SilentSurvivors #EmotionalRecovery #FawnMode #FreedomAfterAbuse #ThisIsWhatHealingLooksLike #MyStoryMyVoice
