The Pain of Watching My Friend Stay with Her Abuser

lhsd18
Jul 4, 2023
4 min read

Updated: Aug 16

By Orly Benaroch Light

One night, my friend called with a question that shook me to my core:“I fell and hurt my ribs. Should I see a doctor?”

She begged me to keep it a secret. But the strain in her voice told me everything I needed to know—she wanted someone to know. Not just about the injury, but about what was really happening behind closed doors. She said it was the first time she had fallen. But I knew it was only the first time I’d heard about it.

I also knew it wasn’t an accident.

From the beginning, I had sensed something wasn’t right. But I said nothing. She would explain away his behavior—claiming he was “working through things” or that his temper was a result of a traumatic childhood. She thought if she could change herself—her looks, her reactions, her words—she could keep the peace. She clung to hope and the idea that he would eventually become the man she wanted him to be.

Her blind faith clouded my judgment. My gut told me this was more than a toxic relationship—this was intimate terrorism.

And the next time?

The next time, he might kill her.

A Pattern I Couldn’t Ignore

This wasn’t the first abusive relationship she had been in. I had seen her endure emotional abuse in the past—regular criticism of her appearance, her intelligence, her worth. I watched her twist herself into knots, manipulated by guilt, shame, and gaslighting.

I begged her to leave, again and again. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Fear, financial dependence, single parenting, and years of emotional manipulation kept her paralyzed. And watching her struggle, knowing how little I could do, left me emotionally drained.

At times, I had to distance myself—to protect my own mental health. Still, in trying to stay supportive, I often downplayed the danger. I began telling myself that the men who hurt her were just broken people who didn’t know any better. I let her rewritten stories shape my understanding of the situation.

Over time, she hid the truth so well, I could barely see it anymore.

Why Do Women Stay in Abusive Relationships?

It’s a question many of us ask—and one I’ve wrestled with as her friend. It’s also one psychologists and researchers have tried to answer for years.

One of the most common explanations lies in early childhood experiences. Many women who find themselves in abusive relationships grew up with abusive male figures—fathers, stepfathers, or their mother’s partners. They may subconsciously recreate these dynamics later in life, trying to resolve emotional wounds that were never healed.

This pattern certainly echoed in my friend’s life. Her early experiences shaped how she defined love, trust, and stability. While I’m not here to tell her story, understanding this helped me make sense of the pain she carried into adulthood.

The Systematic Nature of Abuse

The more I learned about domestic violence, the more I understood how calculated and progressive it is. Abuse rarely starts with a punch—it begins with control, isolation, emotional degradation, and escalates over time.

Even when children aren’t physically harmed, growing up in an environment like this is abuse. It leaves invisible wounds—ones that affect emotional development, self-worth, and the ability to form healthy adult relationships.

By the time I received that call, I had become a mother myself. Hearing my friend cry in pain—terrified and hurt—was unbearable. I didn’t just worry for her. I worried for her children. I wanted them to grow up in peace, not fear. But she wasn’t ready to leave. She couldn’t take that first step.

I realized I couldn’t do it for her.

Understanding the Cycle

Healing from abuse isn’t just about leaving. It’s about breaking the internalized patterns that lead someone back to the same kind of partner. It’s about recognizing the role that unresolved trauma and low self-worth play in choosing and staying with abusive people.

This isn’t victim-blaming. It’s the beginning of reclaiming control.

Without that awareness, the cycle of abuse often continues—with new partners, new scars, and deepening trauma.

My friend never found the strength—or the support—to create lasting safety for her children. They lived through two decades of emotional and psychological abuse. They never received the mental health care they needed. And now, as adults, they are still struggling to heal.

The Pain of Watching, Powerless

I’m not a therapist. I’m not a doctor.

I’m just a friend—a heartbroken one—who has watched someone I care for get pulled under again and again.

And I’ve learned the hardest lesson:

I can’t save her.

I can’t fix, change, or protect someone who isn’t ready to take back their life.

She has to do the hard work of understanding what keeps her in these destructive patterns. Until she does, the abuse—the intimate terrorism—will continue.