A Reflection from the Therapy Room
She sits in the chair across from me, clutching a tissue, her eyes weary with the kind of tiredness that goes beyond sleep. Her voice is barely audible, but every word is soaked in pain.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this… I love my children so much, but I feel like I’m slowly disappearing. Sometimes I wonder if it would just be easier if I wasn’t here anymore.”
This is the turmoil of a woman who has spent years living in the shadows of emotional and psychological abuse—who has survived angry outbursts, intimidation, isolation, and walking on eggshells every day of her life. From the outside, it might look like a family with two children, a house, and all the pieces that form the picture-perfect life. But inside, she is unraveling.
The Private Pain of Domestic Abuse
The type of abuse she describes is insidious. There are no bruises to show the outside world, but her mental wounds run deep. The constant anger in her home—her husband’s rage, his cruel words, his blaming and controlling behaviour—has eroded her sense of self. She doubts her worth, questions her sanity, and feels trapped in a cycle of fear, hope, and shame. The trauma of living and working with people who see nothing, think nothing is wrong.
This kind of psychological abuse, often called coercive control, has been recognised by researchers and mental health professionals as profoundly damaging. According to Stark (2007), coercive control systematically strips a person of their freedom, autonomy, and dignity. It leaves scars that no one can see, but that change the way someone walks through the world.
The Mother’s Dilemma: Stay or Leave?
She speaks of commitment—of vows made and years shared. But more than that, she speaks of her children. She wonders if leaving will destroy them. She wonders if staying will destroy her.
This inner conflict is one of the most agonising burdens women in abusive relationships carry. Research shows that mothers experiencing abuse often remain in harmful relationships longer because of their children, not in spite of them (Radford & Hester, 2006). They hope to shield their children from the fallout of separation, but in doing so, expose them to the ongoing trauma of a volatile and unpredictable environment.
And yet, she knows something needs to change. Her mental health is deteriorating. She has experienced panic attacks. She can’t sleep. Some days she feels numb, and other days, overwhelmed by rage and grief. Worst of all, she’s beginning to believe that her only escape might be death.
The Weight of Suicidal Thoughts
When she says she’s thought about ending her life, it’s not a flippant statement. It is the voice of someone who feels like she has exhausted every option. It’s a cry for peace in a world where every step feels like a battle.
A 2019 report by Women’s Aid in the UK found that women who have experienced domestic abuse are three times more likely to consider suicide, and seven times more likely to attempt it. These are not just statistics; they are desperate stories from women like her—mothers, daughters, friends—who are suffering in silence.
The Invisible Guilt and Crushing Shame
There is guilt—but there is also shame, and it runs deep. She tells me she feels ashamed for ending up here, ashamed that she didn’t see the red flags, that she allowed herself to be treated this way. Ashamed that, after all her education, her independence, her strength—this is her life.
“How did I let this happen?” she whispers.
Shame is one of the most powerful silencers. It convinces women like her that they are somehow to blame—not just for staying, but for being chosen, for being “weak,” for not leaving sooner. It thrives in isolation, in secrecy, and in the harsh inner critic that echoes the abuser’s voice even when he’s not in the room.
This is what shame does: it binds her to silence and strips her of compassion for herself.
But the truth is, abuse is never the victim’s fault. Abusers are often highly skilled at manipulation, presenting charm and affection to the outside world while creating chaos behind closed doors. Abuse doesn’t happen overnight—it creeps in slowly, often masquerading as care, concern, or love, until the woman finds herself questioning her reality and erasing her needs.
Dr. Brené Brown, a researcher in shame and vulnerability, writes that “Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change.” And that’s exactly what I see in her: someone desperate for change, but held hostage by the belief that she is undeserving of it.
And so, we name the shame. We talk about where it came from. We trace its roots—not in her failures, but in the lies she’s been fed for years. Because healing begins not just with help—but with the radical act of self-forgiveness.
Asking for Help is the Bravest Step
In that room, on that day, she took one of the bravest steps a person can take—she asked for help. She allowed herself to be seen. Not as a victim, not as a wife, not as a mother—but as a woman holding unbearable pain, unsure how to carry it any longer.
Therapy is not a magic solution. It’s not a quick fix. But it is a beginning. It’s a space where she can hear her own voice again, rebuild her sense of self, and begin to untangle the knot of fear, guilt, shame, love, and survival.
We talk about safety planning. About emotional support. About exploring options and resources. About learning to trust herself again.
And slowly, something shifts. Not immediately. But she leaves with her head just slightly higher, and the burden she’s carrying feels, just for a moment, a little lighter.
To Anyone Living This Reality
If this story feels familiar, I want you to know this:
You are not alone.
You are not crazy.
You are not weak for staying.
You are not selfish for wanting to leave.
You are not unloving for needing peace.
And you are not beyond help.
No one deserves to live in fear—least of all in the place they call home.
There is help available. There are people who care. You do not have to suffer in silence.
The courage it takes to speak the truth of domestic abuse cannot be overstated. It is not an easy road to walk. But healing begins when the silence is broken.
If you are struggling, please reach out to a trusted friend, a professional, or a support service. Your life matters. Your wellbeing matters. And your children need not just a mother who stays, but a mother who survives.
References:
Stark, E. (2007). Coercive Control: How Men Entrap Women in Personal Life. Oxford University Press.
Radford, L., & Hester, M. (2006). Mothering Through Domestic Violence. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.
Women’s Aid (2019). The Domestic Abuse Report 2019: The Annual Audit. Women’s Aid Federation of England.
Brown, B. (2012). Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead. Penguin.
Dr M’s thoughts 