Minot

Minot, North Dakota, was a shock to my system, to say the least. You could drive across town in 20 minutes, and aside from the university, the only notable landmarks were the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation and Minot Air Force Base. Almost immediately, I noticed a multitude of Confederate flags, and it was clear that there was a lack of diversity outside of the athletics teams at the university. The only positives of my new home were that gas was $1.10, and my abuser was playing football at the state university. In his teammates, I found "brothers," and in a few of the girlfriends, I found friends.

During the first month of living with him again, the physical abuse came to a screeching halt—but only because I had uncovered a secret he was desperately trying to keep from me. With the physical abuse stopping, other forms of abuse began to intensify. (I feel that when people talk about domestic violence, they often only associate it with physical and emotional abuse, but there are many other forms that victims endure.) I foolishly convinced myself that the physical abuse was over for good. But when it resumed, I was already checked out. I could feel the trauma bonds starting to fade, and it finally clicked for me that I didn’t need him—he needed me.

Victims and survivors are often made to feel as though we are the ones who are co-dependent on our abusers. Through their actions, they manipulate us into believing this false narrative until we start to accept it as truth. But abusers depend on us because, no matter how much they hurt us, we still provide unconditional love and a "willingness" to please them. It isn’t until these trauma bonds start to break that we realize the things we were told were lies—and that we are much stronger than we ever recognized.

Soon, the only emotions I felt toward my abuser were anger, resentment, and disgust. I could no longer convince myself that things would get better, or that the sporadic moments of "bliss" we had were worth holding on to. These feelings, combined with the ongoing abuse, threw me into a different kind of tailspin. In no time, I was turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms. I wanted nothing more than to escape him, so I did whatever I could to avoid feeling present.