For many women in abusive relationships, myself included, there is a point at which you decide it’s no longer possible to stay.
I call it “the tipping point”. The point at which we know in our bones that staying is not an option. That anything would be better than this.
Perhaps this quote says it best,
“Change happens when the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change.”
Tony Robbins
The tipping point is different for everyone. Some reach it early; the first time he raises his voice, disrespects you or puts you down. For some, it might be the first time he raises his hand, kicks a chair, or breaks a plate. For many, like me, it takes years. Years of waiting for things to get better. Years of denial. Years of fear. The thing is, we don’t want to leave. Leaving is terrifying. What we want, more than anything, is for things to go back to the way they were.
That’s the thing about abusers. They weren’t always abusive. Many in the beginning are quite the opposite. They are charming and personable, they are experts at building trust and rapport, at making you fall in love. When the abuse starts it’s insidious and it’s not all the time. Abusers have you questioning your sanity. And they are experts in making you believe the abuse is your fault.
In my book, I talk about the jailers that kept me from leaving.
The worst prisons, though, have no walls, and the most powerful jailers were the ones inside my head. They kept a running commentary of my failing marriage, arguing amongst themselves as they took turns trying to convince me to stay.
Hope promised that one day things would be different.
Pride refused to accept that it wasn’t working.
Shame convinced me it was my fault.
Guilt whispered in my ear about the effects of breaking up the family on the children.
I talked to no one. Not Azra. Not even Atakan. I carried my unhappiness around like a secret, as heavy as lead and as invisible as the breeze.
My jailers were silent now. All but one.
My last remaining jailer barely said a word. Yet it was with me every day, in everything I did and everything I said. The sound of his key turning in the lock, the clench of his jaw, the flicker of a shadow across his face.
It was my last remaining jailer that now tightened its grip around my chest, seized the breath in my lungs, seeped into my bone marrow, and ran through my veins like blood.
Its name was Fear.
Excerpt from The Other Side of Fear
One of the major turning points for me was turning forty. A milestone in anyone’s life, the big four-oh snuck up on me from nowhere. I wasn’t ready to be forty. Milestones have a way of forcing you to reassess. To take an honest look back at your life. At the life you had imagined versus the one you find yourself in.
Outwardly I led an idyllic life. A beautiful villa in a corner of paradise on the Turkish Mediterranean coast. A huge garden beset by fruit trees, a hammock strung between them. Two beautiful healthy children. A good job. Having learned the language fluently and with Turkish citizenship, I had integrated fully into the country I had made my home.
I should be happy, I told myself. It should be enough. The thought of uprooting and starting all over again was too scary to even consider. The thought of what he would do to me if I left him even more so.
As the abuse worsened, I began to tell myself a lie to make myself feel better. I would stay a few more years. Maybe ten. Until the children were older. Then, I would leave. It wasn’t so long.
I lived in survival mode. My every move carefully calculated not to trigger his temper. I was agreeable, submissive, and compliant. I made sure the house was spotless, dinner was on the table when he got home from work, the children bathed and ready for bed so he could watch the news in peace while I read them a story. I lay back and escaped to a place in my head as he used my body for his own needs.
But then forty happened.
Suddenly, I felt myself getting older as middle age looked me straight in the eyes. I wasn’t ready to give up on life. I was still young enough to start again. To meet someone else. To be happy.
Suddenly, the thought of staying one more day in my marriage was unthinkable, let alone 10 more years.
My husband frequently told me what he would do to me if I left him. He would sell the villa (which I had stupidly put in his name), get custody of the children by telling lies about me and drive me out of Turkey.
In my eroded, beaten-down state, I believed him. I thought the only way to escape was to take the children and go back to the UK. I envisioned a life in hiding. A draughty bedsit with a single electric hob. Beans on toast for dinner. But that dismal image of my future was still preferable to staying. I had reached the tipping point.
Most women make several attempts to leave their abuser before finally reaching the tipping point and walking away for good. On average it takes seven attempts for a victim to permanently leave an abusive relationship.
As family and friends, we need to recognise and understand this and keep the door open. Many women feel unable to reach out for help again if they have done so before and ultimately returned to their abuser.
There’s no formula for when you’ll reach the tipping point. For some women, it's one slap, put-down, or broken plate too many, for others it’s a wakeup call that forces you to reevaluate your life —an illness, a bereavement, or as in my case, a birthday milestone. Sometimes it can be something relatively minor compared to past events but may be the final straw that is enough to tip the balance.
Whether you decide to leave an abusive relationship quickly or you come to the realisation over time, there are some steps you can take to help protect your safety.
· Before you leave, reach out to a domestic violence hotline or your local shelter for support and practical advice on leaving your relationship
· Where possible, create a plan to leave safely in advance. This may include putting money aside (or leaving some with a trusted friend or relative), keeping the car filled with fuel, planning where you will go, talking to someone you can trust and planning a time to leave when your partner isn’t around to avoid confrontation
· Pack an emergency bag with spare keys, ID documents, cash, medications, spare clothes, bank documents and anything else you may need if you need to leave quickly. Keep the bag at a friend or relative’s house.
· Erase your Internet and browsing history, any texts or emails and call history relating to your plan to leave
· Record evidence of any abuse you experience such as photos of any injuries you received, threatening or abusive messages and a journal of abusive episodes with dates. Keep this information in a safe place.
· If you are planning to go to a shelter, call ahead if possible to find out what their policies are and get information on what to do when you are ready to leave
· If necessary, work towards gaining educational qualifications or job skills that will increase your career opportunities and independence
