Notes: All names in my writing have been changed to ensure privacy and safety, including my own. The experiences are real.

Trigger warning: This post shares experiences of emotional, psychological, and financial abuse. It also makes a short reference to suicidal ideation.

I am starting at the end. It is not the end of my experiences with my abuser, but the end of that story…the one of being a victim.

I am starting with the day I ended my relationship with Connor. I was tired. I was tired of taking care of all of the house responsibilities. I was tired of being financially drained. I was tired of feeling used sexually. I was tired of feeling like a single parent in a house where there were two. I was tired of being his emotional punching bag any time I asked for a little more help or tried to explain my feelings. He had threatened to leave so many times at this point…and I was hoping he would just finally do it.

It wasn’t an easy decision for me to be the one to actually leave and the days before served as a buildup to the climactic moment when I said “I’m done.” Connor had stopped taking his antidepressants suddenly six weeks prior. He seemed to be adjusting fine, but his behavior became more erratic when I was gone for a business trip. He claimed our son, Simon, didn’t fall asleep until 5 am one morning and also texted me that our air conditioner was on even though the temperatures were close to the negatives that day. I was ready to be home.

On the day I got home, I picked up Simon and my two older children from my previous marriage. We were all playing on the floor when Connor came home from work. He immediately sat on the floor with us and kept putting his hands in the middle of our play and trying to get Simon’s attention. I was annoyed but backed off so he could play with him. Simon wanted me, however, simply because I had been gone. I could tell this upset Connor.

The next day, Connor pouted and slept for the majority of the morning and afternoon. I kept the kids busy, had a playdate, and just continued like normal. This was not unusual for Connor. He went through periods like this. The next day followed with the same behavior. The kids were getting stir crazy so we all loaded up and went for a drive. Five minutes in, Connor called me and told me to bring Simon back and he could nap with him. I explained that he was the first one to bring me his shoes and he wanted to go. He texted me 20 minutes later and told me he was packing some things to take to his aunts when I got back and was taking Simon with him. I instantly got a sinking feeling in my stomach. He had nothing to pack that he wasn’t using. It felt like a power move…a threat.

When we got home, the weatherman said that ice was moving in soon. I told Connor that if he was taking Simon to his aunts, we needed to leave soon. I would go to help. He said he hadn’t packed anything yet so he would wait. I felt like I could breathe a little bit. That night, the winter storm hit.

With the roads like an ice skating rink, we were stuck at home. School was canceled and Connor’s work was closed. I work from home, so I continued my day, happy to be away from him in my room but on edge from the fact he was home at all. We had some bills due soon and he was supposed to get paid that day. I texted him from the room and he said that they delayed it. He was working full-time now so I also asked if he would be able to pitch in just a bit more to our home finances. I paid for the majority and had been considering getting a second job on top of my full-time one because we were barely making it. He immediately started berating me as was usual. I started to cry and I couldn’t stop.

My older kids saw me crying and I never told them exactly why. I just told them I was overwhelmed. They spent the rest of the morning trying to cheer me up, which was NOT their job. I tried my best to suck it up and did for the most part. Then, God and the universe intervened and we lost electricity. I needed it to work, so I told Connor I was taking the kids to my parents with me. They didn’t need to sit in the cold house anyway. In reality, I needed to be away from him in order to function for the rest of the day.

In the rush to get out the door, my oldest son slipped on the ice and busted his face on the driveway. It was chaos…blood everywhere from what I feared was a broken nose. We were heading to urgent care now. Then, it hit me. The copay was going to take the rest of the money I had from my account. That is how low we were. I didn’t have any money left on my credit card either because I covered all the times Connor didn’t work. All I could think about were his words. That was my moment.

I texted him those exact words…I’m done. He didn’t get it at first. He told me he would give me money when he got paid. This never happened. He gave me the bare minimum every time. I told him, “No, I’m done with all of it…with us.” He told me to bring Ben back because he was off work and should spend the day with him. After his power move the day before, I knew he would take him. I told him that I was already on my way to my parents and I was going to keep him so I could spend time with him since I had worked all morning. He could see him the next day and we would work out a schedule after that.

Then, he lost it. The next texts were filled with how awful I was as a person. He told me he was going to take Ben from me permanently. I had never threatened that to him and asked why he would take his son from his mom and he told me that I did it. It was my fault. Between the hate-filled rants, he would tell me never to talk to him again and then ask me a question. I would answer and he would tell me that he told me never to talk to him. I relayed all of these messages to his sister. I told her he stopped taking his meds and knew he was going to his aunts. Then, I blocked him.

I stayed with my parents that night and I kept it together around my kids the best that I could. My son, thankfully, did not break his nose. It was their day to return to their dad’s house, so I dropped them off like normal after he was cleared from the doctor. They had no idea I had just left. That would come later.

The days and weeks that followed were filled with confusion, post-separation abuse, intense feelings of worthlessness, guilt, and fear. I thought I was the bad one…for leaving, for not leaving early enough, for ever falling for him in the first place. While I never contemplated unaliving myself, I definitely had moments when I felt this world was better off without me.

I am not in this deep and dark place anymore, but it took work to get out of it. I am still early in my healing journey. I’ve only been out of the relationship for 3 months. This is the ending of my relationship story but it is only the start of my new one. I will be sharing both.