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I Didn’t See It Clearly While I Was Living It

Content note: This post discusses relationship abuse and physical violence.

Looking back, I can name what happened in my relationship more clearly than I could when I was in it.

There was physical violence. Intimidation. Belittling. Repeated disregard for my boundaries.

But at the time, I had explanations.

He shook me against a wall more than once. I remember thinking, But we were fighting, and I did something too. I used my part in the argument to explain away his part in hurting me.

Today, I can hold two truths: I can reflect on how I handled conflict, and nothing I said or did made it acceptable for him to hurt me.

When my needs became something to defend

The night before an interview, I needed quiet, sleep, and time alone. He wanted to cuddle. I explained that I couldn’t sleep with him that night.

He insisted. He banged on the window outside my room through the night.

My need for rest became something I had to defend against his desire for closeness.

There were also times he drove recklessly with me in the car. When I asked him to stop, he yelled at me to stop controlling him. He continued swerving and drove over a curb. It happened more than once.

I was asking for safety. He treated that request as an attempt to control him.

He pushed me to the ground twice, causing serious concussions. Other incidents left scrapes. He punched walls and yelled. He belittled me and called me names after I asked him to stop.

Even ordinary moments could become difficult. He got angry when I didn’t finish everything on my plate after he made dinner.

Taken together, these experiences show a pattern: my body, my rest, my preferences, and my boundaries were repeatedly disregarded.

Why I didn’t trust what I was noticing

There were small lies. There were times he said one thing while something felt off. I doubted my own judgment, and later learned that some of my concerns had been accurate.

There was gaslighting and redirection. I experienced him bringing me down under the idea of “humbling” me.

Inside the relationship, I kept trying to understand individual moments. From a distance, I could begin to see how those moments connected.

Repeated manipulation can make it harder to trust your perceptions. Gaslighting can leave someone questioning their memory, feelings, and understanding of events. Staying can also involve attachment, hope, fear, practical barriers, and concerns about what might happen if you leave. There is no single explanation that fits every survivor.

For me, part of the work has been recognizing how often I let an explanation outweigh the impact on me.

We were fighting.

He wanted to be close.

Maybe I was being controlling.

Those explanations did not make the behavior safe.

Understanding my patterns without blaming myself

I want to understand what I learned about love, conflict, responsibility, and having needs. I want to understand why I doubted myself and what made certain behavior easier to excuse.

But those questions need compassion.

Having wounds did not cause someone else to abuse me. Being drawn to someone did not mean I consented to being harmed. Staying did not make the violence my fault.

Reflection can help me recognize patterns and make different choices. It cannot guarantee that I will never encounter another harmful person. Their choices remain their responsibility.

I can take an active role in my healing without taking responsibility for what he did.

And leaving is not always a simple decision or a safe moment. People deserve support and practical options, not judgment about how quickly they should have understood or acted.

The power of hearing “me too”

I have found immense value in sitting with other women who said:

Me too.

You’re not alone.

I understand.

Being able to speak with someone who recognized what I was describing helped me feel less alone with it.

That experience is part of why I do this work.

I know the value of being witnessed without being blamed. I also believe in having opportunities to practice something different: expressing a preference, asking for space, saying no, changing your mind—and having those choices respected.

For some of us, safety is something we are learning to recognize for the first time.

Why I create these spaces

My work brings together lived experience, bachelor’s degrees in Psychology and Communications, and training and certifications in trauma-informed and somatic coaching.

I offer individual coaching and small-group experiences where we can reflect, build everyday skills, and practice honoring ourselves.

That might mean exploring a boundary, rehearsing a conversation, noticing what feels manageable, or rediscovering interests that have had little room in our lives.

I aim to create a supportive space through clear expectations, collaboration, and respect for your choices. You can pause, decline an exercise, or decide how much to share. I do not assume that something feels safe simply because I intend it to.

My coaching does not replace therapy or treatment for trauma. It offers space for personal growth, connection, and practice alongside appropriate professional support.

You do not need to have everything figured out to be worthy of care.

What happened to you was not your fault. Your next steps can belong to you—and you deserve support as you take them.