Survivor Speaks Truth

Tag: Discernment

  • Is it Love or a Trauma Bond?

    Many people who have been in unhealthy or abusive relationships find themselves asking a painful and confusing question afterward: Was that love, or was it a trauma bond? The two can feel almost indistinguishable when you are inside the relationship or even long after it ends. Both can involve deep attachment, longing, loyalty, and intense emotion, but they are formed in very different ways and lead to very different outcomes.

    Healthy love is grounded in safety and consistency. It grows steadily, marked by mutual respect, accountability, and emotional security. In a loving relationship, there is space to be yourself without fear of punishment, abandonment, or retaliation. Conflict may exist, but it can be addressed without intimidation or manipulation. Love tends to bring a sense of calm over time, not constant anxiety. You don’t have to earn kindness, prove your worth, or shrink yourself to keep someone close.

    A trauma bond, on the other hand, is formed through cycles of pain and relief. It develops in relationships where there is emotional, psychological, or physical harm paired with moments of affection, remorse, or connection. These intermittent moments of closeness create powerful attachment because the same person who causes pain also becomes the source of comfort. The bond forms not despite the harm, but because of it, conditioning the nervous system to associate relief from distress with love.

    This is why trauma bonds often feel so intense and consuming. Prolonged stress followed by brief emotional relief creates a surge of bonding hormones in the body, making the attachment feel addictive. Leaving can feel physically painful, and logic alone often isn’t enough to break the bond. You may miss the person deeply, even while knowing they hurt you, question your own judgment, or feel confused about what was real. This response is not a sign of weakness or lack of intelligence; it is a biological survival response to repeated emotional threat.

    There are often signs that indicate a trauma bond rather than healthy love. The relationship may feel overwhelming or obsessive rather than supportive. You may stay because of who the person is, “when things are good,” rather than how they consistently treat you. There may be a strong sense of responsibility to fix, rescue, or tolerate behaviour that causes harm. The emotional highs may feel euphoric, while the lows feel devastating, leaving you in a constant state of anxiety rather than peace.

    Trauma bonds are often mistaken for love because many people were conditioned earlier in life to associate intense feelings with connection. If chaos, unpredictability, or emotional neglect were part of childhood, calm and stability can feel unfamiliar or even unsafe. A trauma bond can feel meaningful because it activates old wounds and unmet needs, creating a powerful longing to be chosen, valued, or seen for who you truly are. But real love does not require suffering to prove its depth.

    Healing begins with naming the truth. Acknowledging a trauma bond does not invalidate the feelings involved; the attachment was real, but it was rooted in survival rather than mutual, healthy love. Healing often consists of regulating the nervous system, creating a sense of safety, breaking cycles of intermittent reinforcement, and learning what a secure connection actually feels like. Grief is part of this process, but it does not require romanticizing the harm that occurred.

    On the other side of a trauma bond is a different experience of love—one that may feel quieter and less dramatic at first, but far more grounding. It is a love that allows you to breathe, to rest, and to exist without fear. Peace can feel unfamiliar when chaos has been the norm, but peace is not the absence of passion; it is the presence of safety.

    If you find yourself asking whether it was love or a trauma bond, that question itself is a sign of awakening. Love does not cost you your identity, thrive on fear, or require endurance to survive. You don’t have to condemn the past to heal from it, but you do deserve to tell yourself the truth. And the truth is that you are worthy of a connection that feels safe, steady, and free.

  • The Danger of Ignoring Red Flags

    When we enter a new relationship, most want to believe the best in their partner. We long for connection, love, and someone who will see us fully and stay. In those early days, it feels natural to give grace, to excuse quirks, and to overlook small things that make us uneasy. After all, everyone has flaws, and no relationship is perfect. Love itself calls us to be forgiving and patient. But there is a line between showing grace and ignoring warning signs. When we begin excusing patterns that chip away at our peace, we risk walking straight into harm.

    Red flags rarely come waving boldly in our faces. More often, they arrive quietly, disguised as something harmless: a harsh tone quickly softened by a smile, a controlling comment explained as “just looking out for you,” a lie smoothed over with a charming excuse. At the time, those moments may seem insignificant compared to the affection and attention we are receiving. Yet the truth is that what we minimize in the beginning often becomes the very behaviour that wounds us most deeply later. Ignoring a red flag doesn’t make it disappear—it plants it like a seed, giving it room to grow.

    Many survivors of abuse can look back with heartbreaking clarity and identify the signs they didn’t recognize at the time. They remember the uneasy feelings they brushed aside, the times they justified what didn’t sit right, the way they silenced their intuition to keep the peace. But in the moment, it isn’t so clear. The pull of attachment, hope, and love, has a way of drowning out that still, small voice whispering, “Something is not right here.” We tell ourselves we’re being judgmental, too sensitive, or unforgiving. We remind ourselves of all the good moments, replaying them like a highlight reel, convincing ourselves that love will eventually outweigh the shadows. We believe the other person will change, mature, or soften with time. But ignoring what unsettles us doesn’t produce change—it only enables destructive patterns to take deeper root.

    The cost of overlooking red flags can be devastating. What begins as small acts of disrespect can evolve into ongoing patterns that erode our sense of worth. A dismissive laugh at our concerns can grow into systematic gaslighting that leaves us questioning our sanity. What looks like “overprotectiveness” initially may become full-blown isolation from family, friends, and support systems. A minor inconsistency in someone’s story can develop into a web of deception and lies. In too many cases, those subtle early signs become precursors to more overt forms of abuse—emotional, financial, physical, sexual, or spiritual. Each time we excuse or rationalize unhealthy behaviour, we unintentionally send the message that it is acceptable. And abusers thrive on that silence.

    Scripture warns us about this very danger. Proverbs 22:3 says, “The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.” Discernment is a biblical command. Jesus Himself told us to watch for wolves in sheep’s clothing, explaining that they would be known by their fruit, not their words (Matthew 7:15–16). Words can be deceptive, but consistent actions reveal the truth. God does not ask us to ignore reality in the name of love. He calls us to test what we see, to guard our hearts, and to walk in wisdom.

    Recognizing red flags doesn’t mean we are judgmental or unloving. It means we value truth over illusion. It means we are willing to see people as they are, not as we wish them to be. There is a difference between showing grace and enabling harm. True grace does not ignore destructive patterns; it acknowledges them and seeks wisdom in responding. Sometimes wisdom means creating space, setting clear boundaries, or slowing down. Other times it means walking away altogether.

    If you are in a relationship and you sense red flags, don’t silence that warning. That uneasiness may be God’s way of protecting you. It is far better to pause, to seek counsel, or to step back than to spend years trying to untangle yourself from a web of abuse. Love that God-honouring, healthy, and safe, will never demand that you ignore your instincts or compromise your peace to keep it alive.

    Red flags are not meant to make you paranoid. They are intended to safeguard you. When you listen to them, you give yourself the gift of choosing health, love, and safety. Ignoring them only leads to confusion, heartache, and loss. But heeding them opens the door to freedom, peace, and relationships rooted in mutual care, respect, and trust.

    At the end of the day, red flags are not roadblocks to love—they are guideposts pointing you away from danger and toward the kind of relationship God desires for you: one marked not by control, deception, or fear, but by trust, safety, and a love that reflects His own.

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • 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 the Cycle Continues: Why Survivors Sometimes Face Abuse Again

    It’s a question survivors often hear: “How did this happen again?” or “Why do you keep choosing the same kind of person?” As if abuse is something anyone chooses. As if healing automatically guarantees you’ll never be hurt again.

    The truth is, many survivors of domestic violence find themselves in more than one abusive relationship—not because they’re blind, broken, or weak, but because abuse leaves deep psychological and emotional scars. Without intentional healing, those wounds can affect how survivors see themselves, how they interpret love, and what they accept in relationships in the future.

    This isn’t about blame. This is about understanding. Because only when we understand the patterns can we begin to break them.

    Abuse Changes the Way You See the World

    Surviving domestic violence changes you. It rewires your nervous system to stay in survival mode—constantly scanning for danger, trying to anticipate moods, and adjusting yourself to stay safe. You learn to minimize your needs, suppress your voice, and accept the unacceptable to get through the day.

    Over time, this becomes your normal. And when something becomes normal, it’s easy to recreate it—even without realizing it.

    You may gravitate toward people who feel “familiar,” though unhealthy. You may overlook red flags because they don’t seem alarming—just typical. And you may ignore your gut instincts because you were trained to believe your feelings weren’t valid.

    Not All Survivors Lack Discernment

    Some believe survivors have “bad judgment” or “poor discernment.” But that’s a shallow and unfair assumption. Many survivors do recognize red flags. Many are incredibly intuitive, cautious, and aware.

    But abusers are often highly skilled at manipulation. They show up wearing masks—attentive, charming, kind, and spiritual. They know how to say the right things, play the long game, and slowly isolate and control without being obvious. By the time the abuse becomes clear, the survivor may already be emotionally or financially entangled.

    It’s not about discernment. It’s about deception.

    Trauma Bonds and Cycles of Hope

    Abuse often comes in cycles—kindness followed by cruelty, apologies followed by aggression. This cycle creates what’s known as a trauma bond, a powerful psychological attachment that makes it hard to leave, even when the relationship is harmful.

    If this pattern becomes familiar, it can feel strangely comforting—even addictive. Survivors may unknowingly seek out similar dynamics, not because they enjoy the chaos, but because they’ve been conditioned to believe that love comes with pain, that affection is earned, and that they are responsible for fixing the brokenness in others.

    They may also carry an immense amount of hope that the new person will be different, hope that if they just love hard enough, they’ll finally get it right. And in that hope, they miss the warning signs.

    Shame Keeps People Silent

    Survivors who find themselves in another abusive relationship often carry deep shame. They think, “I should’ve known better.” They fear judgement. They may stay quiet out of embarrassment, fear that no one will believe them the second time, and guilt.

    This silence benefits abusers. It protects their image and keeps the survivor isolated. But shame has no place here. Abuse is never the victim’s fault—not the first time, not the second, not ever.

    When Self-Worth Has Been Shattered

    One of the most damaging effects of domestic violence is how it destroys your sense of worth. Survivors are often told they’re unlovable, too emotional, too needy, or not enough. Over time, these lies take root. And when your self-worth is in ruins, it’s hard to believe you deserve more.

    You may tolerate treatment you once would’ve walked away from. You may stay longer than you should. You may settle for crumbs, thinking that’s all you’ll ever get. But none of that reflects your value—it reflects what you’ve been through.

    You are not too broken to be loved well. You are not “damaged goods.” You are someone who has survived the unthinkable. And that strength is not a weakness—it’s a reason to keep fighting for the life and love you truly deserve.

    Healing Is the Way Out

    Breaking the cycle of abuse isn’t about simply walking away. It’s about healing what’s beneath the surface. That means:

    • Rebuilding your self-worth so you stop accepting less than you deserve.
    • Learning to trust your gut and honour your boundaries, no matter how small.
    • Understanding the dynamics of abuse so you can recognize manipulation before it takes hold.
    • Surrounding yourself with people who affirm your value, not undermine it.
    • Seeking support through therapy, advocacy groups, or other survivors who genuinely understand.

    It’s okay to take your time and to make mistakes. Healing isn’t linear—and every step forward, no matter how small, is still progress.

  • The Critical Difference: Trauma-Informed vs. Uninformed Support

    If you’ve ever walked out of a counselling session, church office, or a therapy appointment feeling worse than when you walked in—ashamed, confused, or even invalidated, you’re not alone. And you’re not crazy.

    What you likely encountered was someone uninformed, not trauma-informed.

    For survivors of abuse, especially emotional, relational, or spiritual trauma, this difference is everything. The person you turn to for help can be a lifeline or another layer of harm.

    A trauma-informed counsellor, pastor, or therapist understands that trauma doesn’t just live in memories; it lives in the body, the nervous system, and the choices we make. They know that trauma affects the way we connect, feel, react, and think. They listen without rushing to fix. They validate instead of minimizing. They walk gently, knowing it’s difficult for you to trust.

    A trauma-informed person will never question the reality of your experience because it doesn’t “sound that bad.” They’ll never pressure you to reconcile with someone who harmed you. They won’t use Scripture as a weapon or suggest that forgiveness means you must return to your abuser. They understand that emotional, physical, and spiritual safety must come first.

    On the other hand, someone who is uninformed may mean well. But they often cause more harm than good. They might tell you to “pray harder,” “submit more,” or “just forgive and move on.” They might ask what you did to contribute to the situation. They might encourage you to preserve the relationship at all costs, even when that cost is your well-being. And they might do it all with a smile, believing they’re helping.

    But they’re not. What they’re doing is adding shame to pain. Silencing a voice that’s only just begun to speak. Asking a survivor to make peace with something that nearly destroyed them.

    The truth is, no matter how kind or well-intentioned someone is, if they’re not trauma-informed, they can’t fully support someone who is healing from trauma because trauma requires more than kindness. It requires awareness, discernment, education, humility, and wisdom. And a willingness to unlearn the harmful narratives passed down for generations, especially in faith spaces.

    Trauma-informed support recognizes that you are the expert of your own story. It empowers you to trust your instincts. It allows space for your questions, healing process, and boundaries. It does not guilt or rush you. It honours that you are still here and survived what was meant to destroy you.

    And that survival deserves more than platitudes. It deserves compassion, safety and truth.

    So if you’ve ever felt dismissed by someone you turned to for help, please hear this: it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t expect too much. You didn’t exaggerate. You weren’t being dramatic. You needed someone who understood the weight you were carrying. Someone who can hold space without trying to fill it. Someone trauma-informed.

    And they do exist.

    You don’t have to stay in spaces where your pain is misunderstood or minimized. You deserve better. You deserve support that sees you, believes you, and walks gently beside you on the long road to healing.

    Choose safe people. And when you find them, hold onto them—because trauma may have shaped your story, but it does not get to decide the ending.

  • Trust Your Gut — It’s There for a Reason

    We tell our children to trust their gut and then scold them when they try to do just that.

    We say, “Speak up if something feels off,” but when they hesitate around someone or try to set a boundary, we rush to smooth things over, make excuses, or pressure them to be polite.

    We tell them, “Always listen to that inner voice,” but then model the opposite, ignoring our own, rationalizing away discomfort, and second-guessing ourselves until guilt wins.

    And so they learn that honouring your gut might make you seem rude. That being uncomfortable isn’t enough of a reason to say no. That intuition needs to be explained, ignored, or justified.

    But the truth is, discomfort doesn’t always come with proof, unease doesn’t always have a name, and peace doesn’t always make sense on paper.

    We need to stop teaching our children and ourselves that intuition is something to be silenced or reasoned away.

    Sometimes, your body knows what your mind hasn’t figured out yet. And trusting that? That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

    Because not trusting your gut can have devastating consequences.

    That quiet unease you felt? It wasn’t just nothing. The hesitation, the tight feeling in your chest, or the sense that something was off, was trying to protect you.

    But so often, we ignore it. We tell ourselves we’re overthinking. We give people the benefit of the doubt. We choose politeness over peace. We excuse, override, and rationalize the warning signs our body and spirit are waving in front of us.

    And sometimes, we pay the price.

    Not trusting your gut doesn’t always lead to something catastrophic, but when it does, it’s a pain that lingers. A regret that whispers, “You knew.”

    Your gut doesn’t always come with a reason, but it comes with wisdom. It doesn’t always speak loudly, but it tells the truth.

    Honour and trust your gut, even if it makes you seem cautious, even if it means disappointing someone or is inconvenient.

    Because the cost of ignoring it is far greater than the discomfort of listening to it.

    There’s something powerful and deeply personal about that quiet voice inside us. It doesn’t shout. It nudges and whispers, but often, we’re taught to silence it in favour of logic, politeness, or other people’s comfort.

    But here’s the truth: your gut is a God-given gift. It’s not just instinct, it’s often your body’s way of sounding the alarm before your mind catches up. And when something or someone feels “off,” that feeling isn’t random. It’s a signal worth paying attention to.

    I’ve learned, sometimes the hard way, that it’s far better to err on the side of caution than to override your gut and live with regret. Too many of us have ignored that inner discomfort only to look back and say, “I knew something wasn’t right.” Please don’t dismiss it, whether in a relationship, a business deal, a conversation, or even a subtle energy shift when someone enters a room.

    Your gut instinct isn’t always logical or easy to articulate. But it’s still valid. You don’t owe anyone proof to justify how you feel. You’re allowed to make decisions that protect your peace, even if others don’t understand.

    This isn’t about walking around in fear or suspicion; it’s about walking in wisdom. Wisdom often starts with honouring those subtle cues that say, “Something doesn’t feel right here.”

    Sometimes, your gut will lead you away from danger you can’t yet see. Other times, it will remind you of boundaries you didn’t realize you needed to set. Either way, it’s there to serve you. It’s not weakness. It’s discernment. It’s self-protection. And it’s okay to listen.

    If a person makes you feel unsettled, don’t force a connection. If a situation brings anxiety, pause before you proceed. If your heart pulls you in a different direction, permit yourself to follow it.

    You are not being overly sensitive. You are being in tune.

    Trust your gut, honour what it tells you, and never apologize for choosing peace over pressure.