Content warning: There are mentions of abuse throughout this article.

I recently made it out of an abusive relationship. 

At the time, I thought the key to making it work was by giving him grace. It became my responsibility to ‘better understand’ him and thus permit his awful behaviour in the meantime. I shrunk, consciously, in a constant effort to be sweet and forgiving when faced with pure venom. 

Rather than being rightfully expressive and angry, or just tapping out entirely once I noticed multiple red flags, I watched the venom continue to poison me. Maybe it really was me that was too fragile or too needy. I started apologising all the time. If I communicated a concern or called out a pattern in his behaviour, I’d later agree that I was just being ‘crazy’.

Except I wasn’t. 

When I finally acknowledged the gravity of the emotional abuse and gaslighting, I exploded with fury. I had no regrets. A sacred proverb reads: ‘Mandem wicked, but mi wickeda than dem’.