Why Did You Stay So Long?

— The Question No One Should Have to Answer

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, “But if it was that bad, why did you stay so long?” I could probably afford to buy back every piece of myself I lost along the way. It’s a cruel question—one loaded with judgment, ignorance, and a lack of compassion.

The truth is, I wasn’t ever going to leave.

I was too broken. Too deep in denial. Too convinced that I was the problem. The biggest gift I was ever given was the day another woman took him away from me. That was the beginning of my freedom—not because I was brave enough to walk away, but because life gave me an exit I couldn’t have found myself.

I didn’t even know I was being abused. That’s the scary part.

My sense of reality had been so manipulated, my confidence so thoroughly eroded, that I didn’t recognise the life I was living for what it was. And if you’d told me back then that I was in an abusive marriage—specifically, one marked by emotional abuse and narcissistic control—I would have defended him. Profusely.

The Denial That Protects and Destroys

It wasn’t until my adult daughter—probably the only person on this planet I would have truly listened to—looked me in the eye and said, “Mum, this isn’t okay. You’re being abused.”

Even then, I didn’t tell her everything. She had no idea about the sexual abuse. The way he used control and manipulation not just in daily life, but in the most intimate parts of our relationship. It took me watching Game of Thrones (yes, really) to even begin recognising that what I’d been experiencing in the bedroom wasn’t okay. Those scenes triggered something deep inside me—a slow awakening to the truth I had buried for years.

That realisation was one of the hardest pills I’ve ever had to swallow.

Emotional Abuse and Divorce: A Silent Epidemic

When we talk about divorce, especially among women who’ve experienced emotional or narcissistic abuse, we often overlook how deeply entangled their sense of self becomes with their partner’s version of reality. That’s how narcissistic abuse works. It isn’t always screaming matches or slamming doors. It’s the slow erosion of your identity. The consistent message that your feelings are invalid, your needs are too much, and your memory can’t be trusted.

You begin to question everything.

So when someone on the outside says, “Why didn’t you leave?” they’re assuming you had access to logic, to freedom, to choice. But in those moments, you don’t. Not in the way they think.

The Turning Point That Wasn’t Mine

I stayed until he left me. That’s the truth. And while it might sound shameful to some, it was the greatest gift I could have been given.

Another woman came into his life, and he moved on. For the first time in years, I wasn’t being gaslit daily. I wasn’t walking on eggshells. I wasn’t shrinking myself to survive.

I could breathe.

That breath—that moment of clarity—allowed me to begin unpacking everything I had endured. And it was only then that I could begin to see the damage for what it truly was.

Forgiving Myself Was the Hardest Part

One of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do was forgive myself. Not just for staying. But for not knowing. For not protecting myself. For letting my children witness my silence, my shrinking, my self-abandonment.

But here’s what I’ve learned: forgiveness isn’t about excusing what happened. It’s about releasing yourself from the belief that you deserved it. It’s about understanding that you were surviving the only way you knew how.

And when I finally began to see myself as a woman who had survived emotional abuse and divorce, I stopped seeing myself as broken. I started seeing myself as resilient.

Rebuilding Through Self-Worth

That resilience became the foundation for something extraordinary.

Rebuilding my life through self-worth wasn’t instant, and it certainly wasn’t linear. It began with tiny acts of self-care—eating better, sleeping more, even just going for a walk and breathing without fear. I started showing up for myself in ways I never had before. I enrolled in courses, read books, attended workshops, and surrounded myself with people who saw my worth even when I couldn’t. Slowly, I began to reconnect with the woman I used to be—and even more slowly, I began to create the woman I wanted to become.

I learned how to recognise red flags and set boundaries. I learned that "no" is a complete sentence. I learned to trust my intuition again and value my own needs, not just everyone else's.

And I realised that rebuilding through self-worth isn't about returning to who you were—it's about becoming who you were always meant to be before someone taught you to doubt yourself.

That journey inspired me to create resources to help others do the same.

The Little Book of Divorce Survival was born from this place—a guide full of practical tools and emotional insight for women like me. Women who feel like they’re drowning. Women who don’t know where to start. Women who are ready to heal, but still feel ashamed.

And then came the free program, The 5 Steps to Emotional Freedom.

This self-paced resource includes a 32-page workbook and 90+ minutes of guided videos to walk women through the first steps of reclaiming their power. It’s about creating emotional safety. About grounding. About reflection. And about finding the courage to believe in your worth again.

Why I Now Do This Work

Today, I work with women who are navigating emotional abuse and divorce—many of whom don’t even realise that’s what they’re experiencing. They come in confused, ashamed, and blaming themselves. Just like I did.

And I tell them, gently: You’re not crazy. You’re not dramatic. You’re not weak. You’ve been emotionally and psychologically trained to doubt yourself. That doesn’t make you broken. That makes you human.

Together, we do the work of rediscovering their voice. Of setting boundaries. Of learning how to live with intention and clarity—not fear.

What Needs to Change

We need to stop asking women why they stayed. That question comes wrapped in shame, blame, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what abuse actually is.

We need to start asking:

·       What kept you there?

·       What finally helped you see the truth?

·       What do you need now to feel safe and whole again?

Because asking "Why did you stay?" places blame where it doesn’t belong. It suggests there was a clear choice, when often there wasn’t. When you're living inside emotional abuse—especially the kind laced with manipulation, financial dependence, isolation, or fear of retaliation—leaving can feel impossible.

We also need to challenge the cultural narratives that glamorise endurance in relationships. We hear messages like "relationships take hard work," or "every couple goes through tough times," which gaslight women into believing that abuse is just another rough patch to weather.

We need better education on the signs of emotional and psychological abuse, especially the subtler forms that don't leave bruises. We need more support systems that don't judge women for staying, but empower them when they're ready to leave. We need professionals—in law, counselling, medicine, and media—to stop minimising emotional abuse and start validating it as the trauma it truly is.

And we need to raise our daughters and sons to recognise the difference between love and control. Between conflict and coercion. Between passion and possession.

Abuse is never the victim’s fault. Whether it’s emotional, physical, sexual, or financial—it’s a choice made by the abuser. And in relationships with narcissistic partners, those choices are often subtle, strategic, and hidden behind a facade of charm and manipulation.

So let’s stop looking at the woman who stayed and start questioning the systems, beliefs, and social conditioning that taught her she had no other option.

Let’s change the way we respond. Let’s change the questions we ask. Let’s change the culture that enables abuse to thrive in silence.

You Are Not Alone

If you’re in the thick of it—or even just starting to wake up to the truth of your situation—know this: You are not alone. There is life after emotional abuse. There is clarity. There is strength. And yes, there is healing.

You deserve peace. You deserve respect. You deserve to love yourself so deeply that you never again accept anything less.

And if you don’t know how to start? That’s okay. That’s why I created these resources. Not because I have all the answers, but because I’ve lived the questions. And I know how terrifying, confusing, and liberating it can be to finally begin again.

Let’s change the narrative. Let’s shift the focus from judgment to understanding.

And most importantly—let’s keep helping women rise.