In honor of July 4th, a celebration and reflection of the very meaning of freedom, breaking out of a confining, even deadly situation can take a person to the brink, reevaluating everything they believe.

Something happens inside. A fire ignites and the spirit becomes alive with determination when finally a person has had enough!

Leaving what you know, the uncertainty of it all is a pain all too familiar to people trying to break free of an abusive partnership.

If you were able to leave, how did you do it? Were there failed attempts? And what made you finally say yourself, "Enough!"

Not the traditional parnership, but probably the most important relationship one has in their life, is the one with their mother. My mother is a hard woman, another generation in our family who has expierenced abuse and in turn abused her children. When I enrolled into college, I soon became overwhelmed with the courseload and my new found freedom and moved back home to try to figure out what I was doing with my life. Soon thereafter I decided to go back to school and take up a different major. My mother who is a very sick individual found it necissary to stalk me (from class, to class, to internship, to lunches with friends etc.)It was almost to the point that I felt paranoid wherever I went, I would get paniced calls from her in the middle of class demanding where I was. I was a good student when I went back to school, A's and B's. I loved my classes and my proffessors had only great things to say about me. The straw that broke the camels back was one day, she was going through my room (this included my trash, my computer, my laundry). She had done this in the past but not to this extent. She found a bag full of metal, in which I was collecting for a sculpture class on found art. In the bag were spoons, she thought that I was doing herione and I've never done a hard drug in my life. I had to sit through an intervention, and was signed up for a drug test and a rehab program. But never touched a drug in my life. I took that drug test and it came up for nothing. It was then I fought for my own life. Refused live their any more. Moved on campus and the rest was history. I how have a BA in studio arts, live across the country with my fiancee, and plan to adopt 2 kittens very soon. Free at last free at last.

(i'll repost what i posted in another thread) honestly, i was rescued by the system because when he went to prison the control he had over me was finally forced to break. he could no longer dictate my every thought, move or emotion even if i still desperately "needed" him to. i went through withdrawals for years just like you would from a drug. i felt lost without him but by then my secret was out and family kept me straight. in retrospect, knowing what i know now, i would have stayed closer to my family. he isolated me and that was how all the abuse was able to take place. it was us against the world he'd say, when in reality it was him against me.

Those are "truths" on so many different levels.

"it was us against the world he'd say, when in reality it was him against me."

You're so right! The fight is within them.

It's an un-manageable anger/poison inside. For awhile, it may make them feel empowered to have someone by their side, because they're so insecure. But as soon as something comes along they don't like, then that poison wells up to the point they have to launch it on anything they can make hurt as much as them. But it won't usually be unleashed on friends, just you.

To fight with another man? Not usually...they'd take them out in a flat second or at least give them a run for their money. A woman or animal is normally their speed. Not much power fighting back, submissive.

You're also right...when there's a forced separation, be it prison or a move (usually they find you though) that's when you begin regaining your personal strength.


It's accurate to look at it as though it were an addiction. Very insightful!

I wonder if the abuses were shared publicly, if the shame would stop them? Are these things usually hidden among a couple's social groups?

again, mine may have been the exception because among my abusers family and friends (who were all white trash, on parole, on the run, prostitutes and meth addicts)abuse was totally accepted. my family was totally left in the dark as to whom i was hanging out with.

It's years ago now but for a few years I was in a strange, not romantic but intense friendship with a younger man. He was a bit of a hobo, and I allowed him to move in (Temporarily!) Gradually a very frightening situation developed. Turned out he was addicted to cannabis, and when he tried to come off, was such an obnoxious and aggressive person. (He is actually a very pathetic person, whose bullying streak emerged because I was just too "nice") Loong story short, I ended up being isolated, scared and abused including being punched. Ashamed to explain to anyone, as I hadn't even the "excuse" of being romantically involved... Anyway am glad to say it's now ancient history. What I did... Made up my mind that I wanted my life back. Decided to tell one other person. Decided that next time I would get out of the flat, call the police etc and I did. ...he scarpered, once he realized. But he came back that same evening. I had called another friend, male, with a fairly tough background himself. He simply threw him out. I went to stay with a friend to make sure I was "out of sight" It wasn't pretty, but I vowed never again would I give away my power. As a spiritual person, A Course in Miracles helped, but I had to realize that loving someone does not mean putting up with abuse.

After years of 'daydreaming' about escaping, it took my husband becoming completely addicted to crack and heroin (and as a result, plunging me into debt paying for his habit) before he was 'out of it' enough for me to go through with it. I put up with years and years of violence but it wasn't until I no longer had money to eat or wash my clothes that I finally started to seriously consider making an escape plan (in my head, of course!) I wish I could say that I was completely brave and strong enough to up and leave years ago, but I had to wait until he was so doped up he barely knew my name anymore before I had the guts. I waited until he was asleep after a 24 hour drug binge, grabbed the dog and ran for it. Scariest thing I've ever done, but also the smartest. 7 months later, it's incredibly hard to find 'my life' but being safe is something I never ever thought I'd have the luxury of again.

I left an almost 25 yr marriage 16 mos ago. My husband was controlling, verbally abusive, sometimes physical. The straw that broke the camels back for me was seeing my two boys turn into their father and realizing that I didn't love my husband anymore. I filed for divorce a week before moving out. I came to the realization that my marriage had been over for quite some time, even though we had gone to counseling. I had lost my sense of self and had very low self esteem. Leaving was the best thing I've done in my life. Unfortunately, my boys still follow their dad's footsteps, despite counseling and treatment. Now all I do is pray that the Lord will help them realize the right way to go.

It's been awhile since I last posted. Life has kind-of consumed me, perhaps a good thing. Anyways... I left my husband Jan. 5, 2011. My last straw was when forced me to my knees, tried to make me perform an act, and as I fought him, my 18 month old son stood 2 feet away screaming and crying. We were eye to eye and I saw the terror in his eyes. I forced myself to relax my face even as I continued to struggle. I looked my son in the eyes and promised him he would never go through this again, never. I told him everything would be okay, mama was alright, he was alright. A few minutes later, as I was huddled against the kitchen cabinets, my husbands knees in my back, a knife held against me, and his last words echoing in my head "I am going to F--K you up," I knew my life was over and I just prayed my sons would be safe. His mother called and perhaps saved my life. He got off me and started talking to her as if he were talking about the weather. "No, I'm not doing anything." No, I'm not about to murder my wife with my tiny son standing close enough to have blood splatter all over him. No, my family was not just moments ago screaming as if their life was about to be over. No, everything is great and I am a crazy, psychotic lunatic that you make every excuse for. No, I'm not doing anything. I called 911 as he stepped outside to talk to his mom, still convinced he was going to hang up with her and come back in and kill me. He ended up leaving a few minutes before the police came. I had just a few minutes to pack for myself, an 18 month old, and a 2 month old. I had no job, no money, no car, no friends, and no family within 14 hours. I had a newborn, a toddler, and my life. I had everything that mattered. The police dropped me and my children off at the police station at 2 in the afternoon. I was given numbers to call for shelter and arranged to be picked up for an open bed an hour away. That was that. I thank God to be alive. The fear after leaving was almost more than I could bare. The nightmares and even worse the waking hours before sleep. I thought for sure I would die in the room I laid my head down in. I thought this is going to be my death bed. It has been 19 months and the fear has abetted but I know it will never go away completely. But when I see my children laughing and playing I know that it was all worthwhile. They have been given a chance to be children, without worries, without fear, without terror. They have been given the greatest tool they need to become healthy, happy, respectable young men - me - a live, healthy, happy, respectable me.