When Love Becomes Fear: Breaking Free from an Abusive Relationship
Falling in love can feel like the most natural, beautiful experience. It did for me—until the reality of that relationship turned into a nightmare. I fell deeply in love with someone who eventually assaulted me daily. Looking back, I understand how I was conditioned to accept his behavior. I grew up with a father whose version of discipline was harsh, often violent, leaving me to internalize that aggression as “normal.” So, when I met this man and experienced a love full of intensity and turmoil, I accepted his aggression as part of that love.
At the time, I didn’t realize I was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. I didn’t have the vocabulary to understand it. I just believed he loved me, that we were both caught in this whirlwind, and that the highs were worth the lows. I even excused his actions because I, too, could be aggressive. My own unresolved emotions would boil over, and our fights would quickly escalate into physical confrontations. But he was a much larger man, and I was a petite woman. Looking back, I realize how dangerous that imbalance made our fights, and how vulnerable I was.
The final breaking point—the moment when I truly feared for my life—still plays vividly in my mind. He was out of town, so I decided to spend time with my best friend, knowing I had a rare opportunity to relax and be myself. We stayed out late, talking and laughing, until almost 6:30 in the morning. I never anticipated that he would be waiting for me when I got home.
When I entered my apartment, I sensed that something was wrong. The bed was slightly off, a detail most wouldn’t notice, but I’m very type A. I immediately knew someone had been there. Before I could process that feeling, I turned around, and there he was, grabbing my neck in a chokehold, demanding answers. He wanted to know where I’d been, why I was coming home so late, and who I’d been with. His face was filled with a rage I’d never seen before, and for the first time, I truly feared for my life.
From that moment, things spiraled. He threw me on the bed and began punching me in the face, ignoring my pleas, my explanations. The blows came hard and fast, leaving my ribs aching and my vision blurred. In that moment, I felt completely helpless. The man I thought I loved had become my worst nightmare, someone capable of a cruelty I hadn’t allowed myself to see.
As I lay there, bruised, broken, and scared, I kept telling him, “I love you, why are you doing this to me?” But he didn’t stop. He stripped my clothes off, tearing them in the process, and what followed was an assault that left me scarred in ways that took years to heal. He kept me in that apartment, held hostage for two days, physically unable to move, let alone return to work. In those two days, I saw the depth of his control over me, and it was terrifying.
That was my wake-up call. I had spent so long justifying his actions, believing that love meant enduring whatever came my way. But this experience made me realize that love should never, ever hurt like this. Love should never strip you of your safety, your self-respect, or your autonomy. I knew, in those two agonizing days, that I had to find a way to escape and reclaim my life.
Leaving was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, but it saved my life. It’s taken time to unlearn the patterns I grew up with, to redefine what love and respect mean to me, and to find strength in my single life. Now, I realize that true love begins with self-love and respect. No one deserves to be treated with anything less.
Closing Message:
To anyone reading this who feels trapped, confused, or conflicted in a relationship—know that you deserve love that lifts you up, not love that drags you down. It’s okay to seek help, to question what love really looks like, and to prioritize your safety and well-being. This journey has taught me that I am enough on my own and that healing is possible, even after the darkest of days.