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  • Would More Time Have Changed the Outcome?

    One of the common questions survivors of abuse wrestle with is this: Would time have changed the outcome? If I had waited longer before committing and gotten to know them better, could I have spared myself the heartbreak? Could I have seen the red flags earlier? Could I have known?

    These questions can circle endlessly in the mind, like a continuous loop. They come from a deep desire to make sense of something that feels senseless, bring order to chaos, and find logic in something that seems unthinkable. After all, if there’s a reason, then maybe there was a way it could have been prevented. And if it could have been prevented, the pain might not feel so permanent.

    But the hard truth is that you can ask a thousand variations of those questions and never find an answer that truly satisfies. When someone is committed to hiding who they really are, time is not always the great revealer we wish it to be.

    Abusers are often skilled at deception. They know how to say and do all the right things to win trust. Some even present themselves as the ideal partner—attentive, charming, kind, spiritual—because that image is part of the grooming process. Many are patient and calculated in their deception, willing to conceal their true selves for months, years, or even decades if it means keeping control. Waiting longer, unfortunately, does not guarantee clarity when a person is determined to stay hidden.

    That is one of the painful aspects of abuse: it is built on deliberate deception. It’s not that the victim was naïve, blind, or unworthy of trust—it’s that the abuser chose to conceal, lie, and manipulate. You could have waited longer, asked more questions, sought more advice, and still not uncovered the truth until the abuser chose to reveal it—or until the mask slipped on its own.

    The “what if” questions often morph into self-blame: I should have known, been wiser, caught it sooner. But these thoughts place the weight of responsibility in the wrong place. Trusting someone is not a failure. Believing in the good you saw is not a weakness. The shame belongs to the one who betrayed that trust, not the one who gave it in good faith.

    It’s also important to remember that abusers are often very strategic in how they control the narrative. They may surround you with half-truths, isolate you from those who might see the truth, or use religious language to make themselves seem righteous. They can be so convincing that even those closest to the situation may not see what’s happening. If an entire community can be fooled, it’s not reasonable to expect that more time alone would have guaranteed that you would see through the act.

    So, would time have changed the outcome? The answer is no. Because the problem was never about how much time was given—it was about how much truth was hidden. Abusers reveal themselves when it benefits them, not when it protects you. They control what they show and for how long.

    The danger of endlessly replaying these questions is that they keep you stuck in the past, carrying blame that doesn’t belong to you. Healing begins when you release that burden and acknowledge reality: you were deceived, not because you failed, but because someone was determined to hide. That is their guilt to bear, not yours.

    While we cannot go back and change the past, the future can be different. The wisdom gained, the strength forged in pain, and the clarity born from experience can help shape the way forward. The “what if” questions may never give you the peace you’re looking for, but choosing to let go of them opens the door to a new kind of peace that comes from truth, healing, and freedom.

    You don’t need to ask if more time would have saved you. The better question is: What will I do with my time now? The answer can be this: You will live it free from self-blame, anchored in truth, and open to the life still waiting for you.

  • After the Decision: What Comes Next?

    In my last post, I wrote about the difficult tension between sticking it out and walking away. That decision is rarely straightforward and often carries layers of fear, grief, guilt, and even relief. But what happens once the decision is made? What do you do after you’ve decided to stay and rebuild—or after you’ve decided to walk away and start over?

    The truth is, the decision is only the first step. The following days, weeks, and months require courage, intentional action, and support.

    If You’ve Chosen to Stay

    Deciding to stay does not mean forgetting the pain or excusing the behaviour. It means believing there is still a foundation worth rebuilding. But staying requires more than hope. It requires accountability, commitment, and consistent change.

    1. Prioritize Safety. If the relationship involved abuse, safety must come first. That means clear boundaries, outside accountability, and resources in place should the unhealthy patterns re-emerge.
    2. Seek Professional Support. No one can restore a broken relationship alone. Trauma-informed therapy, faith-based counselling, or support groups can provide tools for healthier communication and conflict resolution.
    3. Apologies Without Repentance Mean Nothing. An apology on its own is easy. True repentance is what matters. A person can say “I’m sorry” a thousand times, but if their actions don’t align with those words, the apology is empty. Staying requires evidence of transformation, not temporary remorse.
    4. Measure by Actions, Not Words. It’s easy to say, “I’ll do better.” It’s harder to live that out day after day. Pay attention to behaviour. Is there follow-through? Is there humility? Are they taking responsibility for the harm they inflicted?

    Staying is not passive. It is active, ongoing work that demands honesty, humility, and visible change. Without genuine repentance and consistent action to repair the harm, staying simply keeps you trapped in the same destructive cycle.

    If You’ve Chosen to Leave

    Walking away, even when it’s the healthiest decision, comes with its own set of challenges. Many survivors describe the aftermath as a mix of freedom and grief. That’s normal. Leaving means separating from a person and disentangling from hopes, memories, and often a shared life.

    1. Grieve the Loss. Allow yourself to feel the anger, disappointment, and sadness. Grief is not a sign you made the wrong decision—it’s a natural response to loss.
    2. Build a Support Network. Isolation is one of the most dangerous traps for survivors. Surround yourself with people who validate your experience and encourage your healing, whether that’s trusted friends, a church community, or survivor advocacy groups.
    3. Establish Boundaries. Walking away doesn’t always mean the person is out of your life—especially if children, shared finances, or legal matters are involved. Clear, firm boundaries are essential. Communicate only as necessary, and when possible, through structured or legal channels.
    4. Focus on Reclaiming Yourself. Abuse and toxic relationships strip away identity. Use this season to rediscover who you are apart from the relationship. Pursue career goals, education, faith practices, or hobbies that remind you of your strength and individuality.
    5. Get Practical Help. Sometimes leaving means facing custody battles, financial insecurity, and housing needs. Don’t hesitate to lean on advocacy organizations, community resources, legal aid, or shelters. That’s what they’re there for.

    Leaving isn’t about failure—it’s about survival. It’s about choosing to stop pouring your energy into something destructive so you can begin investing in your future.

    Everyday Struggles After the Decision

    No matter which path you’ve chosen, struggles are common. Survivors often face:

    • Second-guessing. Did I do the right thing? These doubts are normal, especially when loneliness or fear creeps in.
    • External pressure. Friends, family, or even faith communities may pressure you to return when you’ve left, or shame you for staying when you’ve chosen to rebuild. Remember: they don’t live your life—you do.
    • Trauma responses. Emotional triggers, flashbacks, hypervigilance, or nightmares, can surface more strongly once the immediate crisis ends. Healing is not linear.

    This is why it’s so important to have a plan for healing regardless of your decision.

    Moving Forward With Intention

    The decision itself is not the end of the story. It is the turning point. What matters most is how you move forward from here.

    • Invest in your own healing. Faith practices, journaling, therapy, or trauma healing can all help regulate your nervous system and restore your sense of safety.
    • Surround yourself with truth-tellers. The right people will remind you of your worth when you’ve forgotten.
    • Anchor in hope. Whether you stay or leave, life will not always feel as heavy as it does in the immediate aftermath. Healing is possible. Joy is possible. A future you cannot yet imagine is possible.

    Final Word

    After the decision—whether to stick it out or walk away—you have a choice about what comes next. You can remain defined by the pain, or you can step into the process of healing and reclaiming your life. Neither path is easy, but both require you to remember one truth:

    You are not powerless. You are not worthless. You are not defined by the worst thing you’ve endured.

    The decision was only the beginning. The rest of your story is still waiting to be written.

  • Sticking it Out vs. Walking Away: The Difference Between Life’s Challenges and Toxic Relationships

    There is a common phrase often repeated in well-meaning circles: “Marriage takes work. Relationships take sacrifice. Every couple goes through hard times—you must stick it out.” While there is truth in that statement, it is not the whole truth. And in some cases, when applied to destructive or abusive relationships, it can be dangerously misleading. Not every relationship should be endured. Not every hardship is created equal. There is a profound difference between staying faithful through the storms of life and chaining yourself to a sinking ship that was never safe to board in the first place.

    All relationships face challenges. Finances get tight. Illness changes daily routines. Parenting demands test patience and energy. Jobs are lost, moves are made, and life throws unexpected storms that rattle even the most stable of unions. These are the “hard times” that every healthy couple will inevitably encounter. They are not indicators that your love is broken, but opportunities to strengthen your commitment. Weathering life’s challenges with an equally invested partner often draws people closer. These seasons reveal character, deepen intimacy, and cultivate resilience. They are hard, but they are not destructive. They are exhausting, but they are not soul-crushing.

    The difference is this: when two people are truly united, life’s storms become something they face together. It is “us against the problem,” not “me against you.” Even in frustration, there is an underlying respect. Even in disagreement, there is a foundation of safety. You can trust that your partner is not your enemy and that you are rowing in the same direction at the end of the day. Hard times can be endured—sometimes even embraced—because they strengthen the relationship.

    But not all hardship comes from the outside. Some storms brew within the walls of the relationship itself. These are not the growing pains of two flawed humans learning to love each other better. These are the destructive dynamics of control, manipulation, betrayal, or abuse. They are not external trials testing your bond—they are the bond itself being poisoned. And no amount of “sticking it out” will transform toxicity into health.

    Abuse—whether emotional, verbal, physical, or spiritual—is not a “rough patch.” Constant belittling is not a “challenge.” Walking on eggshells to avoid outbursts is not “working through issues.” Feeling unsafe, unloved, or consistently devalued is not the same as having financial stress or disagreements about parenting styles. Abuse is not a trial to be endured; it is a danger to be recognized.

    Too often, people conflate the two. Society tells victims to “try harder,” “pray more,” “sacrifice yourself,” or “be more forgiving.” Religious communities sometimes misuse Scripture, urging the abused to remain in toxic marriages under the guise of faithfulness. Friends and family, unfamiliar with the dynamics of abuse, may label a survivor’s decision to leave as “giving up.” But enduring abuse is not faithfulness—it is self-destruction. And God never asks His children to remain bound to what destroys them.

    The difference between hard and harmful is everything. Complex challenges come from outside pressures—money, sickness, transitions—that can be weathered when love and respect remain intact. On the other hand, harmful patterns come from within—the way you are treated, the cycles of control, the erosion of self-worth. Hard asks you to persevere because there is mutual love at the core. Harmful asks you to surrender your dignity and safety in exchange for crumbs of peace.

    One of the most significant lies victims are told is that leaving is a failure. But walking away from what is destroying you is not giving up—it is choosing life. It is choosing to believe that your worth is not measured by how much pain you can endure, but by the truth that you are created to be loved in a way that reflects kindness, safety, and mutual respect. True love uplifts. True love protects. True love does not demand you lose yourself to preserve the illusion of togetherness.

    There is courage in staying through life’s storms when both people row the boat. But there is also courage—often far greater—in stepping out of a sinking ship because one person has been drilling holes all along.

    If you ask yourself whether to stay or go, the questions that matter most are “Am I strong enough to endure this?” but rather, “Is this hardship external or is it coming from how I’m being treated? Am I safe? Am I respected? Does this relationship allow me to grow into the fullness of who I am, or does it strip away my peace and worth?”

    The answers may not be easy, but they are essential. The truth is this: You deserve to be in a relationship where the storms of life are weathered side by side—not in one where you are drowning while the other person watches from the shore.

    Love was never meant to hurt to prove its worth. Sticking it out is noble when the relationship is built on love, respect, and a shared vision of the future. Walking away is necessary when the relationship itself is causing the destruction.

    Your life is too valuable, your soul too precious, and your future too meaningful to waste it surviving in the name of “sacrifice.” Choose wisely. Choose courageously. And remember—enduring hard times makes love stronger, but escaping toxic ones may save your life.

  • Abuse is Never a Victim’s Fault

    One of the most harmful misconceptions about abuse is the idea that victims somehow cause or deserve it. This belief, whether spoken outright or implied through questions and judgment, adds another layer of harm to people already suffering. Abuse is never the victim’s fault, and understanding why is essential if we want to create safer and more supportive communities.

    Abuse is not simply a reaction to anger, hardship, or stress. It is not an accident that “just happens” in the heat of the moment. Abuse is a deliberate choice. An abuser decides to use control, intimidation, manipulation, or violence to dominate another person. Whether the abuse takes the form of emotional cruelty, financial control, physical harm, or psychological tactics, the common thread is intentionality. The responsibility for that decision always rests with the abuser, never with the victim.

    Despite this, many survivors carry guilt and self-blame. This is partly because abusers are skilled at creating confusion. They convince their victims that they are the problem, that if they behaved differently, the abuse would stop. Over time, this message sinks in, leaving victims feeling as though they are at fault. Society often reinforces these lies by asking harmful questions: “Why didn’t you just leave?” “What did you do to set him off?” “Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” These kinds of responses fail to hold abusers accountable while placing an unfair burden on survivors. They overlook the reality that leaving an abusive relationship is statistically the most dangerous time for a victim, and they fail to recognize how deeply effective manipulation can be—so insidious and persuasive that it can entangle even the strongest, most intelligent, and most discerning individuals.

    The reality is that victims are often incredibly resilient people. They may stay because they believe the abuser will change, because they want to protect their children, or because they have been isolated from resources and support systems. Sometimes they stay simply because they are doing their best to survive in an unsafe situation. None of these realities makes the abuse their responsibility. Abuse is something done to them, not something they caused.

    When blame is placed on victims, abusers are protected. The cycle continues, survivors are silenced, and healing becomes harder. But when we speak the truth—that abuse is never the victim’s fault—we begin to break this cycle. We release survivors from the weight of shame that was never theirs to carry, and we shine a light on the only place responsibility belongs: with the abuser.

    Advocacy starts with shifting the conversation. Instead of asking victims why they stayed, we must ask why abusers choose to harm. Instead of doubting survivors, we must believe them and support them. And instead of shaming people who have lived through abuse, we must create environments where they feel empowered, safe, and validated. Abuse thrives in denial and silence, but it loses its power when we confront it with accountability, compassion, and truth.

    The message is simple but vital: abuse is never the victim’s fault. Survivors deserve to be heard without judgment, supported without conditions, and believed without hesitation. Real change will come when society refuses to shift responsibility onto those who have already suffered and instead demands accountability from those who choose to abuse.

  • Why Early Recognition is Your Best Protection

    One of the most powerful tools you can have when it comes to protecting yourself from toxic people—especially abusers—is the ability to recognize the signs before you’re in too deep. The damage can already be done when you’re fully entangled in their charm, control, or manipulation. That’s why learning to spot specific patterns early can save you years of confidence, life and peace, and sometimes even your safety.

    Abusers rarely walk into your life wearing a warning label. They don’t introduce themselves as controlling, deceitful, or manipulative. They often do the opposite. They present themselves as attentive, charming, and understanding. They might even seem too good to be true—and that’s usually the first clue. Genuine people don’t need to perform perfectly. But an abuser’s image is everything, and they’ll make sure you see exactly what they want you to see.

    One of the earliest signs is how they talk about other people, especially their past partners. If every ex is described as “crazy,” “toxic,” or the one who ruined everything, be careful. That’s not just a coincidence—it’s a pattern. They shape your perception by planting seeds so you’ll side with them no matter what you hear later. They’re not giving you the truth; they’re giving you the version of events that keeps them in the role of hero or victim. And if you stay long enough, you’ll see that this same script will one day be used against you.

    Another sign is their inability to admit fault. Healthy people can acknowledge when they’re wrong and take steps to make things right. No matter the evidence, unhealthy people blame, deflect, or justify their behaviour. Accountability feels impossible with them, because admitting fault would mean chipping away at the flawless image they’ve built.

    Pay attention to how they handle criticism—both yours and others’. If even mild feedback sparks anger, defensiveness, or a subtle form of punishment like the silent treatment, that’s a clue you’re dealing with someone whose self-image is fragile beneath the surface. People who can’t tolerate being wrong will do whatever it takes to make sure they’re seen as right.

    And perhaps the clearest sign of all: watch what happens when their image is threatened. This could be as small as calling out an inconsistency or as big as someone else revealing the truth about them. In those moments, the mask slips. You might see false accusations, smear campaigns, rage, or an over-the-top performance of generosity or kindness designed to win back anyone who might doubt them. This isn’t about resolving the issue but regaining control over their perceptions.

    It’s important to spot these signs early because once you’re emotionally invested, leaving becomes harder. You’ll want to believe the version of them you first met. You’ll hold onto the good moments, even if they’re few and far between. And by the time you realize how much their behaviour has chipped away at your sense of self, they may already have a hold on your finances, reputation, or support system.

    Spotting it before it harms you means trusting your instincts when something feels off. It means listening to the red flags instead of talking yourself out of them. It means asking hard questions: Why do they need to be seen as perfect? Why is every ex a villain? Why can’t they take responsibility? Why does it feel like the rules don’t apply to them?

    Because here’s the truth—healthy relationships don’t require you to ignore your discomfort, silence your voice, or twist your reality to fit someone else’s narrative. And if you recognize the patterns now, you can walk away before you become the next chapter in their carefully crafted story.

    Spot it early. Believe in yourself. And choose your peace over their performance.

  • When an Abuser’s Grandiose Self-Image is Threatened

    An abuser’s carefully crafted image is their crown jewel. It’s how they control perceptions, draw people in, and shield themselves from accountability. They’ve spent years—sometimes decades—perfecting the story they want the world to believe about who they are. And when that image is threatened, even slightly, you will see a side of them that strips away the charm and exposes the raw hunger for control beneath.

    At the heart of their grandiosity is fragility. Their inflated sense of self isn’t built on genuine confidence—it’s propped up by the constant validation of others. Any crack in that façade feels like a personal attack, even if it’s something as small as you questioning a decision, pointing out an inconsistency, or simply setting a boundary. In their mind, they must be admired, respected, and always seen as superior. Anything less is unacceptable.

    When someone challenges their image, they respond with one or more predictable tactics:

    They may lash out angrily, using insults, intimidation, or threats to reassert dominance. They aim to make you regret questioning them, not just shutting you down.

    They may play the victim, spinning the narrative so that you look like the aggressor. They’ll twist facts, omit key details, and weaponize half-truths to make it seem like you’ve wronged them. This deflects from the real issue and rallies sympathy from anyone willing to take their side.

    They may launch a smear campaign, quietly or openly planting seeds of doubt about your character in the minds of others. They might portray you as overly emotional, unstable, or untrustworthy—anything that will make your perspective seem unreliable if you dare to speak out.

    They may gaslight you, convincing you that what you saw or experienced isn’t real, or that you’re overreacting. This is meant to make you doubt your perception, question your memory, and ultimately back down.

    Sometimes, they’ll double down on the performance, turning up the charm and generosity in front of others while being cold or cruel in private. This makes it harder for anyone to believe your version of events and reinforces their public image as the “good one.”

    The more public the challenge, the more intense their reaction. Abusers fear exposure because exposure means loss of control. They thrive on controlling the narrative, and when that control is disrupted, they go into overdrive to repair their reputation, often at the expense of your safety, credibility, and emotional well-being.

    It’s important to understand that their reactions aren’t about truth but preservation. They will rewrite history, invent new versions of events, and manipulate mutual acquaintances to protect their self-image. And they will do it with conviction that people who don’t know the whole story may believe them without question.

    If you’ve ever seen an abuser’s mask slip when their image is challenged, you know it’s both jarring and clarifying. You suddenly see the lengths they will go to avoid accountability. You see, their “confidence” was never confidence—it was a performance designed to keep you in your place and them in control.

    The best way to protect yourself in these moments is to document, stay calm, and avoid feeding into their drama. The truth doesn’t need theatrics to stand—it requires consistency, a refusal to be silenced, and time. You cannot stop an abuser from defending their image, but you can stop giving them the access they need to tear down yours.

    Because when you threaten their image, you’re not just challenging a story—you’re challenging the entire foundation of who they pretend to be. And for them, that’s war.

  • The Grandiose Self-Image of an Abuser

    One of the most striking traits of many abusers is their inflated, almost untouchable sense of self. They carry themselves as though they are more important, righteous, smarter, wiser, or talented than anyone around them. It’s not just confidence—it’s arrogance, entitlement, and superiority wrapped in a carefully constructed image. They don’t just believe they’re special; they believe the rules don’t apply to them.

    At first, this can be incredibly persuasive. Their confidence feels magnetic. They talk about their accomplishments, insight, and talents with such certainty that you believe they must be as extraordinary as they say. They might present themselves as the most caring, morally upright, or selfless person you’ve ever met. They may sprinkle in stories about how others have wronged them, how they’ve been misunderstood, or how their good deeds went unappreciated. They’ll often frame themselves as a rare gem in a world full of flawed people—someone who needs the “right” person to finally see them for who they are.

    But beneath that polished exterior, their grandiosity isn’t genuine self-esteem—it’s a shield. Their larger-than-life persona protects them from the truth about their flaws. Admitting fault, taking responsibility, or being seen as “ordinary” threatens their identity. They need to be admired, recognized, and validated at all times, and they’ll go to great lengths to ensure they remain at the center of attention.

    This inflated sense of self often spills into every area of life. They may dismiss or minimize the ideas and feelings of others, interrupt conversations to redirect focus back to themselves, or insist that their way is always the right way. In relationships, they expect admiration and compliance without having to earn it. Disagree with them, set a boundary, or fail to mirror their self-image, and you’ll likely be met with anger, belittling comments, or passive-aggressive retaliation.

    Their grandiosity also makes them hypersensitive to criticism, real or perceived. Even gentle feedback can be twisted into a personal attack. Rather than reflecting and adjusting, they’ll deflect, justify, or lash out. In their mind, it’s unthinkable that they could be wrong, and if something goes wrong, it must be someone else’s fault.

    This inflated self-view is dangerous in part because it can mask abusive behaviour. Someone who sees themselves as inherently superior may genuinely believe they’re justified in belittling, controlling, or punishing others. They may convince themselves—and try to convince you—that their way of doing things is for your good. They can frame dominance as leadership, manipulation as wisdom, and cruelty as honesty.

    If you’ve been in a relationship with someone like this, you may have found yourself constantly second-guessing your worth, trying to live up to impossible standards, or working overtime to win their approval. Their self-importance becomes the measuring stick for your value, and no matter how much you give, it’s never enough.

    Healthy confidence is rooted in empathy, humility, and mutual respect. A truly confident person can celebrate their strengths while also acknowledging their weaknesses. They can share space with others without feeling threatened. An abuser’s grandiose self is the opposite—it demands constant control, feeding, and validation over how they’re perceived.

    People with a grandiose sense of self will never willingly shrink their image to make room for yours. They will expect you to make yourself smaller so they can remain the largest presence in the room. And in the end, that’s not love—it’s a performance, and you’re only there to be part of the audience.

  • When Loving Someone Is Breaking You

    Love is supposed to be a safe place. A shelter. A home for the soul. But what happens when the very love you’ve poured into someone begins to chip away at who you are?

    Not all love feels like warmth and safety. Sometimes, love feels like walking on eggshells, holding your breath, and shrinking yourself to keep the peace. Sometimes, loving someone deeply becomes the very thing that breaks you.

    You give. You hope. You try. You hold on longer than you should because you believe in their potential. You replay the good times in your mind like a highlight reel to justify staying, even though the reality has shifted. Even though you’re no longer smiling the same. Even though the tears have become more frequent than the laughter.

    And you wonder if this is what love is supposed to feel like.

    Healthy love does not require the erosion of your self-worth. It doesn’t demand silence in the face of mistreatment. It doesn’t punish you for having needs, emotions, or boundaries. Yet too many of us stay in relationships where love has become a battleground. We make excuses—“They didn’t mean it,” “They’ve had a hard life,” “If I just love them harder, they’ll change.” But here’s the truth: real love doesn’t require you to abandon yourself.

    If the love you’re in is causing chronic anxiety, confusion, pain, or self-doubt, it’s not love—it’s a trap dressed up as loyalty. Yes, love will challenge you. Relationships take work. But the kind of work that builds, not breaks. The type that deepens connection, not silences your voice. Love should never require you to betray yourself to keep someone else. You should not have to apologize for asking to be treated with respect. You should not have to compromise your peace to avoid an argument. You should not have to suppress your truth so they feel more comfortable living in denial.

    You’re not too much. You’re not too sensitive. You’re not asking for the impossible. You’re asking for love that reflects care, effort, kindness, and mutual respect, and that is not too much.

    There is a high cost to staying where your soul is withering. Your health suffers, your confidence diminishes, you start questioning your intuition, and you may even lose sight of your purpose. You try to be strong. You say things like, “Love endures all things,” because you’ve been taught that staying is noble, that leaving is selfish, that forgiveness means tolerance, that hope means never letting go. But you must remember: endurance is not the same as self-abandonment.

    Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is walk away. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do—for yourself and them—is to release what’s destroying you.

    You were created with dignity, purpose, and value. And any relationship that consistently undermines your worth is not of God, no matter how much you once prayed for it. It is not your job to fix someone committed to staying broken. It is not your responsibility to be their emotional caretaker, their punching bag, or their excuse to avoid growth.

    Love is not pain management. You are not a martyr for staying in dysfunction. You are not unfaithful for choosing healing over chaos.

    Letting go doesn’t mean you didn’t love them. It means you finally started loving yourself, too.

    It means you’ve come to the realization that love should not cost you your peace, sanity, or soul. It means you’ve grown tired of apologizing for someone else’s inability to meet you with the same depth you gave them.

    If love breaks you, it’s okay to stop trying to prove your worth. It’s okay to stop carrying a relationship that was never meant to rest entirely on your shoulders. It’s okay to say, “This is not love, and I deserve better.”

    You deserve a love that hears, protects, sees, and uplifts you. A love that brings out the best in you, not one that leaves you constantly trying to heal from it.

    So if you’re in that place today—quietly breaking behind closed doors while trying to hold it all together—please hear this:

    You are allowed to walk away from what is breaking you. You are allowed to choose healing, hope, and peace. You are allowed to outgrow what once felt like love but now only feels like pain.

    Because loving someone should never cost you yourself.

  • Is This Abuse? How to Recognize the Signs You Might Be Missing

    When people hear the word “abuse,” many think of bruises or physical violence. But abuse is much broader and more insidious than that. It’s not always easy to recognize, especially in the middle of it. Abuse can be subtle, manipulative, and emotional, often hiding behind charming smiles and carefully crafted facades.

    If you’re wondering whether what you’re experiencing is abuse, you’re not alone. Many survivors spend months or even years questioning their reality before realizing the truth. This post will help you understand abuse, recognize the warning signs, and trust your voice again.

    What Is Abuse?

    Abuse is a pattern of behaviour used by one person to maintain power and control over another. It can take many forms—emotional, psychological, physical, financial, spiritual, and sexual. The core of abuse isn’t just about harmful actions; it’s about domination, coercion, and the erosion of your sense of self.

    Abuse is not limited to physical harm. Someone doesn’t have to hit you for it to be abuse. Something is wrong if you constantly walk on eggshells, question your worth, or feel confused and drained in your relationship.

    Types of Abuse

    1. Emotional: This includes manipulation, gaslighting, blame-shifting, name-calling, silent treatment, shaming, guilt-tripping, and constant criticism. Emotional abuse chips away at your self-esteem and causes deep, lasting wounds.
    2. Psychological: This form of abuse includes mind games, threats, isolation, intimidation, and using fear to control your actions. It causes you to doubt your reality and can lead to anxiety, depression, and trauma responses.
    3. Physical: This involves any bodily harm or threat of harm: hitting, slapping, choking, shoving, restraining, or throwing things. But it can also include blocking doorways, invading personal space aggressively, or destroying your belongings.
    4. Sexual: This includes any unwanted sexual contact or coercion, even within a committed relationship. Consent is key. If you’re being pressured, manipulated, or forced into sexual acts, that’s abuse.
    5. Financial: This includes controlling all the money, limiting your access to funds, sabotaging your employment, or using money as a weapon to manipulate or trap you.
    6. Spiritual: This occurs when someone twists faith, Scripture, or religious beliefs to justify their control or mistreatment. It can involve guilt, fear, shame, and the misuse of spiritual authority.

    Common Signs You May Be in an Abusive Relationship

    • You’re constantly apologizing, even when you’ve done nothing wrong.
    • You feel like you can never do anything right in their eyes.
    • You’re afraid of how they’ll react if you disagree or express your needs.
    • You hide parts of your relationship from others to protect their image, or because you feel embarrassed.
    • They blame you for their anger, moods, or abusive behaviour.
    • You walk on eggshells trying not to upset them.
    • They isolate you from friends, family, or support systems.
    • They control aspects of your life—what you wear, who you talk to, and how you spend money.
    • You feel drained, anxious, depressed, or like you’ve lost yourself.
    • You’ve begun to question your memory or sanity, especially when they deny things you know happened (gaslighting).
    • They minimize your feelings or accuse you of being “too sensitive.”
    • You no longer feel safe—emotionally, physically, or spiritually.

    You Don’t Have to Check Every Box

    One of the biggest misconceptions about abuse is that it only “counts” if every sign or behaviour is present. That’s simply not true.

    It doesn’t have to be every behaviour for it to be abuse. Even one repeated pattern of manipulation, control, or cruelty is enough. Abuse doesn’t require a long list of offences—it only requires a dynamic where one person consistently uses power to diminish the other.

    Some abusers are explosive and aggressive. Others are quiet, covert, and calculating. You might be confused because they aren’t “always” unkind, or because they’ve never laid a hand on you. But love that harms, controls, confuses, or depletes you is unhealthy, no matter how it’s packaged.

    You don’t need to justify your pain by comparing it to someone else’s story. You don’t need to wait until things get worse. If something feels wrong, heavy, or unsafe, trust your gut. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

    You deserve to be in a relationship where love doesn’t hurt, respect isn’t conditional, and you aren’t left questioning your worth.

    Abuse Is About Patterns—Not Just Isolated Incidents

    It’s important to remember that abuse is not about a bad day or a single argument. Every relationship has conflict. But abuse is a pattern—a repeated and escalating cycle of harm, apology, manipulation, and control.

    You might be in a honeymoon phase, where things feel “good again.” That doesn’t erase the harm that’s already been done. Abuse follows a predictable cycle: tension building, explosive event, apology or excuses, and a temporary calm. But unless there is accountability, repentance, and actual change (rare without serious professional intervention), the cycle usually repeats—and worsens over time.

    Abuse Thrives in Silence and Secrecy

    One of the most excellent tools of an abuser is isolation. You may be told not to talk to anyone about your relationship. You may be led to believe that no one will believe you, or that you’re the problem. These are lies meant to keep you silent.

    Please know this: You are not crazy, you are not alone, and you are not to blame.

    What If You’re Still Not Sure?

    If you’re still questioning whether what you’re experiencing is abuse, that in itself is worth paying attention to. Healthy relationships don’t leave you confused, fearful, or questioning your worth. If your relationship feels heavy, toxic, or unsafe, trust your gut. Don’t dismiss your intuition just because they haven’t hit you or because it says all the “right” things.

    You might consider speaking with a trauma-informed therapist or advocate. Many domestic violence shelters offer confidential support, even if you’re not ready to leave. Just talking to someone who understands can help you gain clarity.

    Final Thoughts

    Recognizing abuse is the first step toward healing and freedom. If you see yourself in these words, take a deep breath and remind yourself that it’s okay to ask questions, to want more, and to protect your peace.

    Abuse doesn’t always leave visible scars. But emotional, psychological, and spiritual wounds are just as real and deserving of care and healing.

    You are worthy of love that is safe, kind, respectful, and free of fear. That kind of love does exist—and it starts with the love you show yourself by recognizing the truth and taking steps toward healing.

    If you need help or want to talk to someone confidentially:

    • In Canada: ShelterSafe.ca
    • In the US: The Hotline – 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
    • Or reach out to a local shelter, counsellor, or trauma-informed support group

    You deserve to be safe. You deserve to be free.

  • When Abuse Becomes Entertainment: How the Media Is Selling Us a Lie About Love

    Some of the most dangerous lies aren’t shouted; they’re whispered through screens, disguised as love stories, and wrapped in fantasy. We watch them unfold in movies, binge on TV shows, and scroll past them in viral TikToks and memes. They’re everywhere. Many tell us that control, dominance, or manipulation are forms of passion.

    Take Fifty Shades of Grey, for example. It was marketed as a provocative, edgy romance—a daring take on seduction and sexual exploration. Millions bought the books. Box office records were shattered. But here’s what was often missed: what was sold as a “love story” was, at its core, a deeply unhealthy and abusive relationship.

    Christian Grey isn’t a dream partner. He’s controlling, possessive, emotionally manipulative, and isolating. He stalks Anastasia, controls her career decisions, dictates who she can see, and uses intimacy as a tool of control. And yet, audiences swooned. His behaviour was excused as the actions of a “damaged man who just needed love.” The message was clear: if you love someone enough, you can fix their trauma, even if it means sacrificing your safety or sense of self.

    This isn’t just bad storytelling. It’s dangerous.

    And it’s not always a man hurting a woman. Women can be abusers, too. Media tends to portray abusive women as “crazy,” “jealous,” or “just emotional,” but these are red flags too, not plot twists. Female abusers may weaponize guilt, control finances, isolate partners from family, stalk, or use children as pawns. Whether the abuse is emotional, physical, sexual, or verbal, and regardless of the gender of the abuser or the victim, it’s still abuse.

    When abuse is repackaged as romance, it distorts our understanding of what love is supposed to look like. It blurs the lines between passion and possession, between desire and domination. And for those who have lived through real abuse, it feels like a punch to the gut.

    Because here’s the truth: Real survivors don’t get luxury penthouses and fairytale endings. They get confusion, isolation, trauma, and years of healing. They get gaslit into thinking it’s their fault. They get disbelieved, silenced, or told to be grateful it wasn’t worse.

    The media doesn’t just glamorize abuse; it often eroticizes it. It teaches young people that being desired means pursuing relentlessly, even when you say no. That jealousy is romantic. Mood swings and emotional outbursts show how deep someone’s love runs. That boundaries are meant to be broken if you’re truly “meant to be.”

    But this isn’t love. It’s an obsession. It’s dysfunction. It’s abuse dressed up as intimacy.

    It’s not just Fifty Shades. Countless other stories glorify toxic relationships: The brooding, emotionally unavailable partner who treats their love interest like a project. The “bad boy” or “crazy girl” who hurts everyone but magically changes for the right person. The romanticization of stalking, ignoring boundaries, or using sex as a bargaining chip.

    Think about how often films show people being “worn down” until they finally say yes. Or how many times emotional abuse is chalked up to childhood trauma that the love interest is supposed to fix. These narratives aren’t just tired—they’re harmful.

    They send the message that love requires suffering. The more you endure, the more valuable your passion becomes. That abuse is a phase, a kink, a challenge—not a crisis.

    And for those of us who have survived actual abuse, it’s triggering. Because we’ve lived the reality behind the fiction. We’ve endured the “love” that left bruises—not just on our bodies but also our minds and spirits. We’ve been told our abusers were just “misunderstood.” We’ve heard, “But they buy you nice things,” or “At least they come home at night,” or “Maybe you’re just too sensitive.”

    So when the world glamorizes what nearly destroyed us, it’s not entertainment. It’s erasure.

    We must start calling it what it is. Abuse is not sexy. It is not romantic. It should not be brushed aside for chemistry or plot development. Abuse is traumatic. It’s life-altering. And no amount of cinematic flair can change that.

    We need better stories. We need love stories rooted in respect, empathy, communication, and mutual care. We need media that shows healthy relationships—where power is shared, not hoarded; consent is sacred, not negotiated; and people are partners, not projects.

    And we need to equip ourselves—and the next generation—to spot the difference. To recognize when the screen is lying to us. To stop confusing red flags with butterflies.

    Because real love doesn’t control, it doesn’t intimidate. It doesn’t cross your boundaries and then blame it on trauma. It doesn’t make you feel smaller so someone else can feel powerful.

    Real love honours, protects, and sets you free.

    Let’s stop letting Hollywood define romance. Let’s tell the truth—even when the truth isn’t shiny or marketable or trending, because survivors deserve more than to see their pain turned into profit. And love deserves more than to be reduced to abuse with good lighting and a soundtrack.