Judgement

As I mentioned in my last post, I’ve been asked the question, “Why did you go back?” more times than I can count. While I understand why people ask, I personally find it an insensitive question. I recognize that it’s often asked out of curiosity or concern, but there’s a misconception that domestic violence is simple. This oversimplification makes it harder for people to understand the profound, often confusing experience of someone living through an abusive relationship.

To someone on the outside, the question may seem straightforward. But for the person being asked, it carries immense weight and, most of all, pain. It’s not a question I enjoyed answering because the response is so complex, and explaining it requires reliving a trauma that many won’t fully understand. Leaving an abusive relationship isn’t as simple as packing your bags and cutting ties. The reality is far more dangerous and complicated than that.

First, it’s important to understand how a victim is perceived by the abuser. When you think of another person, you think of them as human—someone with rights, feelings, and autonomy. But for an abuser, their victim is not seen as human. We are viewed as property—something to control, manipulate, and break down. When someone loses their property, majority of the time they try to get it back. And that’s what happens to domestic violence victims. We are seen as property, and our abusers come after us to reclaim what they believe is theirs.

They will stop at nothing to drag us back into the life we’re desperate to escape. They will threaten more violence, call from blocked numbers, break restraining orders, risk returning to jail—and in some cases, escalate to murder. To them, we are tools to serve their ego and twisted ideals. Our lives are no more than the equivalent of someone stealing their car or damaging their property, depending on the level of psychopathy we're dealing with.

Leaving isn’t just dangerous physically; the psychological toll on the victim is hard to even describe. It’s like being trapped in a mental asylum, with the constant back-and-forth between calmness, affection, and violence. This erratic behavior creates confusion, emotional distress, and a sense of disorientation. So, before you ask a victim or survivor why they went back or stayed, be mindful of judgment and understand that there are many layers to leaving. It’s not an easy decision, and it’s not made lightly.

Victims aren’t “stupid” for going back. They are brave. They are brave because they are finding the courage to leave. They are brave because they know, deep down, they want to escape. And they are brave because leaving—while necessary—is an incredibly dangerous choice.

To any victims or survivors reading this: You should not feel shame, guilt, or weakness. Those are the narratives society feeds you, but you don’t have to accept them. This is not an easy situation to survive, let alone overcome. No one has the right to judge the timing of your escape, or the trauma you've endured.Judgment is dangerous—it can drive a victim back into the arms of their abuser. Mean words, judgments, and thoughts don’t help a victim; they only add to the pain already being carried. If you’ve never been through this, it’s not your place to judge. I’ve heard the occasional, “That could never be me,” but be careful what you say. That “could never be me” could quickly turn into “That is now me”—in the blink of an eye.