“We Didn’t Just Leave – We Fled” A Survivor’s Story of Betrayal, Abuse, and Rebuilding in 2025
My first story is with someone I met while she was in hiding. She writes here to share her truth—the kind of story that too often remains hidden behind closed doors. She spoke not just for herself, but for countless others living silently through betrayal trauma and intimate partner abuse. Her words paint the raw picture of survival, motherhood, heartbreak, and hope.
Before the betrayal, she believed that people were inherently good. She trusted easily. She thought that if you just loved someone enough, they would love you in return. She believed that love could undo trauma—that her love could heal whatever pain he carried. All she ever wanted was to be a wife and a mother, to raise thriving children in a home where the cycles of dysfunction ended with her. She earned her master’s degree and gave her life to her family, homeschooling her three children, whose ages now range from 11 to 16. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, something began to erode her spirit. The betrayal wasn’t just emotional—it showed up in her body. Chronic fatigue, pain, panic attacks, adrenal dysfunction. She lost herself in trying to fix what could not be fixed. She realized, a decade into her marriage, that what she was enduring might be abuse. For five more years, she tried to save the relationship, praying he would change. But it wasn’t his heart that changed—it was hers. She now knows that her husband’s addiction to pornography started in his youth. She hadn’t understood the damage it could cause until much later. The secrecy, the emotional abandonment, the manipulation—it rewrote her identity. He threatened to leave during every pregnancy. When she was carrying their second child, he was having an emotional affair. She remembers hyperventilating in panic. Her third child was born with chronic health issues, and the postpartum period nearly broke her. There was no support. Only blame. He told her to ‘just deal with it.’ Her intrusive thoughts and fear for her children's safety became a constant drumbeat of terror in her mind. Despite everything, her children remain resilient. But she wonders how deep the damage runs. They walked on eggshells around their father. They were belittled, manipulated, and then praised in cycles that left them confused. Now, they ask her: ‘Do you think Dad ever loved us?’ She stayed for a long time, leaning on her faith and friends. Eventually, she fled—with only the clothes on their backs. She feared what would happen if she didn’t. Shared custody terrified her. So did finances. She had no career, no income. But she left anyway. Because staying had become more dangerous than going.Their homeschool community lifted them up. Therapy gave her a place to grieve and rebuild. Still, trust is hard. Especially with systems that were supposed to protect her. The courts issued orders, but enforcement remains elusive. ‘It is absolutely shocking what these types of men get away with,’ she says. She never built a career—she didn’t think she’d need one. She thought investing in the marriage was enough. She regrets that now. Most of his friends and family still blame her. Only one person—one mutual friend—saw the truth and risked everything to help her get out. As a woman, she still struggles. She fears being seen as ‘damaged goods.’ She questions her beauty, her worth, her future. But she knows her children feel loved. They’ve seen her fight for them. That is something no abuser could erase. Today, safety means peace. Not being tracked. Not being watched. It means knowing where her children are and that they are safe. Grief comes in waves, she says. But she’s learning not to resist it—to ride it. To let joy and grief exist together. Her dream now is simple: financial independence. A life where she can care for her children, and maybe—just maybe—encounter someone who shows them what a good man truly looks like. But even if that never comes, she holds fast to one belief: ‘You can take away someone’s resources, but you can’t take away their resourcefulness.’ To every woman walking through betrayal, she says: ‘My heart goes out to you. I wish I could wield a magic wand and make the pain and loss disappear.’
