I thought I was helping him until he made me sleep in my car

I met my abuser on an online dating site. For the first few months, things felt normal. I was comfortable with him, and eventually, I moved in and fell in love. But about six months in, the small warning signs began to appear. What started as minor irritations—him making decisions for both of us, deciding all our plans quickly—escalated into full-blown gaslighting behavior.

One night, after I returned from dinner with a girlfriend, he started a massive fight. He accused me of speaking badly of him and the house we had bought together. In reality, I had given my friend a tour before we left, gushed over how much I loved the home, and invited him to join us for dinner when he opted out. He twisted this innocent interaction, claiming I had made my friend visibly uncomfortable with my insecure behavior and had offended him. Then, he just left the house.

I stayed because I thought I could save him, but I learned that no one can save anyone else. We are all responsible for our own behaviors, and I had to rebuild my life from…

He made me feel like I was at fault, isolating me from my friend and tearing me down. I began to constantly question my judgment and my interactions. This incident happened toward the last six months of the relationship, by which time the gaslighting had been going on for quite some time. I started believing his perspective was more valid than my own. Over time, this constant infusion of self-doubt tore me down until I completely relied on him to determine right and wrong.

He was an alcoholic and a drug user, frequently set off while under the influence. He often had paranoid thoughts, accusing me of bugging the house or colluding with others to ruin his career. At first, my strategy was to argue and try to reason with him. I would try anything to dissuade these thoughts. But the more I engaged, the longer he would argue, and the more aggressive he would get.

There were several times when he threw things, broke down doors, and dumped glasses of wine over my head. We couldn't just have an argument and sleep it off in other rooms. If I tried to sleep, he would stand over me yelling, even when I removed myself to sleep on the couch. Many times, I ended up sleeping in my car, in the driveway, or down the street just to get away. By this point, he had already isolated me from my friends and family, so I felt alone, like I had no one to go to.

Constant sleep deprivation for months at a time is a slow and effective form of torture. It wore me down until I couldn't think clearly.

Two years into the relationship, a friend voiced her concern. She told me I needed to consider leaving and offered me a spare room if I was ready. When I finally got up the nerve to leave, it still took a long time. I got in my car and called her on the way. She literally saved my life.

Slowly, painfully, and with help from others, I started to rebuild myself. First, I had to rebuild my credibility at my job. My performance had been severely affected by chronic lack of sleep and lack of engagement. But that was the easy part compared to the emotional work. I started counseling and eventually understood that I had stayed in the relationship initially because I was trying to help him. I began to understand that we are all responsible for our own behaviors and no one can save anyone else.

My friends, whom I thought I had lost, rallied around me. We shared many dinners, and they listened to my hours of crying phone calls. I also reconnected with my family, who had stopped talking to me during the relationship when I very actively and vocally told them I was choosing to stay with this known jerk.

I still have massive issues with trust. I have effectively built a nice, cozy wall around myself when it comes to relationships. It doesn't mean I don't try, but it takes a long time for me to let someone in romantically. I will always work on healing this part of myself. There is a way out.

I hope my story helps break the silence surrounding domestic violence.