Most people don’t realise they’re in an abusive relationship while they’re still in it.
It doesn’t always look how you’d expect. There’s no shouting, no broken plates. Just tension. Silence. A constant sense that something’s off - but you can’t name it.
You tell yourself they’re stressed. That it’s a rough patch. That if you just try harder, things will get better.
It’s only with distance - or sometimes years later - that the fog starts to clear. And one of the hardest truths to face is this:
They weren’t confused. They weren’t unaware.
They knew exactly what they were doing.
And they did it anyway.
The Lie We Want to Believe
Most survivors start by giving the benefit of the doubt.
“Maybe they didn’t realise how much it hurt.”
“Maybe they just can’t help it.”
“They’re like this with everyone - it’s not personal.”
Believing it’s unconscious feels safer. It softens the blow. It helps you cling to some version of the person you thought they were.
But it’s not the truth.
The Clue Is in What They Hide
If someone can control their behaviour around others, they can control it - full stop.
If they only belittle you behind closed doors...
If they’re charming with friends but cutting in private...
If they act like everything’s fine in public, then punish you the moment you're alone...
That’s not a loss of control. That’s selective control.
And that should stop you in your tracks.
Because it means the abuse isn’t reactive. It’s deliberate.
I Thought It Was Over - Until We Got Home
I lived this.
He’d be cross with me - cold, sharp, sulking. Then we’d go out, and suddenly he’d act completely normal. Chatty. Smiling. You’d never know anything was wrong.
I’d relax. I’d think, OK, we’re fine again.
Then we’d get home. And he’d go quiet. Withdraw. Start punishing me all over again. No explanation. Just that cold wall of silence.
I kept thinking it was over because that’s how normal conflict works - you talk, you resolve, you move on.
But this wasn’t resolution. It was a performance.
And when the lights went off and the door closed, he dropped the act - because the point wasn’t to make things better. It was to keep me small.
Let’s Talk About Affairs
Here’s something people don’t say enough:
Affairs can be abusive.
Not just painful. Not just selfish. Abusive.
Because when someone lies to your face every day, all while maintaining a separate life behind your back, they’re not just cheating - they’re gaslighting.
They know what they’re doing. They hide it from the world while making you feel crazy for asking questions.
In abusive dynamics, affairs become a weapon. They destabilise you. They keep you guessing. They let the abuser control the narrative - because while you’re consumed by confusion and self-doubt, they’re still in control.
And if they can act normal with everyone else while treating you with contempt? That’s not carelessness. That’s calculated.
This Realisation Hurts Like Hell
It’s easier to believe they didn’t mean to hurt you. That it all came from trauma, or confusion, or not knowing any better.
But realising the harm was deliberate? That wrecks you. It forces you to revisit every excuse you accepted, every apology you believed, every second you gave them the benefit of the doubt.
It’s not just sad. It’s sickening.
But It’s Also the Turning Point
Because once you accept that it wasn’t an accident, you stop trying to fix it.
You stop negotiating.
You stop explaining.
You stop waiting.
You realise the person you loved chose to cause harm - and chose when to hide it.
And as painful as that truth is, it’s the one that finally sets you free.
A Note If This Hit Home
If you recognised yourself in any part of this, you're not imagining it. You're not overreacting. And you're definitely not alone.
Coming to terms with the truth behind someone’s behaviour can feel like losing the ground beneath you. But that clarity? That’s the start of getting your power back.
It’s OK if you're not there yet. Just knowing it wasn’t your fault is enough for today.