Will would often tell me that I would never find another man like him. I did not stop to consider if I would want to find another guy like him because deep down, the answer was "No, I never want to know someone like you ever again." Instead of answering the real question, I chose to listen to him tell me why he was so great. Honestly, I agreed because when it came to work, Will was great. Will works diligently, and held two jobs in the early years. I did not worry about income. I was able to stay at home with the boys without once being asked to take a job. He willingly put up with work he hated to provide for his family. Will wanted to be married, wanted children, wanted a family. He wanted to keep us neat and tight like collectible robots on a shelf.

During the time I was trying to save my marriage, I made quite a few mistakes. One of them was naming the type of verbal abuse he used as he said the words. After educating myself with many books (mostly by Patricia Evans), I made a list of the abusive techniques he has at his disposal. I learned them (hint: great idea) and posted them on the fridge (hint: terrible idea). Then, when he'd pull one of those tricks out of his hat, I named it, told him that I would talk to him when he was NOT trying to control me, and then turn on my dainty heels to leave the room.

Although unseen in the tumultuous immediate aftermath of The Day I Left Him, justice was served. Nevertheless, in my pain, I felt slighted by my son who ran from me betrayed by my husband who wouldn't admit the truth punished by the judge who gave custody to my abuser unable to see where my actions caused him any tragic feelings remotely similar to my own (I wanted him to hurt, and he didn't) It seemed he'd won. I felt justice wasn't only blind, but also the stupidest philosophical idea ever imagined by mankind.

I remember crawling into my soft bed, fan blowing softly but enough that I tucked my hair behind my ear to keep it from tickling my nose. The covers were heavy, cool with a hint of Downy April Fresh; my pillow cradled my head in a mother's embrace. I fell asleep happy with the day, quietly looking forward to his return late in the night. The house was spotless and smelled fresh. The children were quiet in their own beds for a change. Not one sound in the whole house that shouldn't be there. I drifted to sleep so slowly I consciously noticed the change in my breath as I fell deeper and deeper into dreams. I let myself go. BANG! I moved so fast my brain didn't know I was sitting. BANG! "What?! What is it?" I said, my heart pounding in the darkness. A shadow crossed in front of the window headed toward the other dresser. It was him. I read his body language in the split second it took for him to pass through the moonlight. He was pissed. BANG! BANG! BANG! Three more drawers opened and slammed. "Where are my f@c&i*g socks, KELLIE?" he yelled.

The whirling emotions of the day I left continued into the next months. I continued to hold on to the positive feelings and thoughts with the help of my sister, mother and friends. Without them, I wonder if I would have succumbed to begging forgiveness from Will, begging him to come home, knowing I'd only find myself worse off in the long term.

Just when I think I'm healing along nicely, POW - an insightful Facebook friend raises an important question: Am I engaging in self-blame? Um...yes. Self-blame (and self-punishment) comprise a large portion of the answer to the question "Why do you stay in that abusive relationship?!" But I thought I was beyond self-blame. I can (now) laugh at my ex's nasty comments instead of wonder how I managed to cause him to say them. Isn't that a sign that I no longer blame myself for his behavior?

I can only speak for myself and my experience of leaving my abusive ex-husband. Your results may differ, but I hope my experience gives you a heads up and, in knowing it won't be easy at any point, the courage to continue your course. My ex didn't stalk, didn't beg me to come home, didn't turn on the charm to trick me into returning. He felt I betrayed him. He used my decision to report him to the law and the military as an inexcusable sin. I exposed him (falsely he says). I think that he feels he left me.

Verbal abuse is used to diminish the victim's power. It is used to paralyze the mind and maim the heart, leaving the victim to feel so small and worthless that they become dependent on only the abuser. Only the abuser's opinion matters because s/he holds the key to the victim's happiness and pain. Pleasing the abuser (avoiding pain) is priority number one. But abuse doesn't happen in a vacuum. The victim must feel as if they're doing more than avoiding pain to stay in and make sense of the abusive relationship. The victim must feel a higher purpose is at work to rationalize his or her participation in a relationship that causes them fear and sadness.

Amy, a 17 year old young woman, ran away from her parents' home months ago. From one perspective, the situation could be explained as a defiant teen who doesn't want to obey her parents' rules. From Amy's perspective, the explanation differs.  She understands that she broke a rule (or three!) and expected to be disciplined for that. Amy did not expect to find her disobedience tied to be tied to her parents' marital woes. She didn't expect for a private conversation with her mother to be shared with her father. She did not expect to be blamed for her mother's choice to confide feelings about Amy's father's repeated adultery (Amy suggested Mom leave him). Also, like many other victims of abuse, she did not expect the insults and aggressive anger as her parents worked through their emotions toward her via verbal and mental abuse.

No one can take away your education. I tell that to the cadets where I work all of the time because it is true: I know from my own hard-won education, an ICBS (I Call Bulls*&!) degree, earned via 18 years of mental, emotional and verbal abuse, featuring a well-designed syllabus acted out by my controlling, manipulating, abusive ex. That man was an excellent teacher, but I didn't truly appreciate his lessons until the last years of his course (a.k.a., our marriage). It was a long course. Four times, out of sheer frustration I'm sure, he attempted to physically knock the stupid out of me, but it took that final laying on of hands to make me see the light. I graduated from that abusive experience with the ability to sense abusive bulls*&! from a mile away. Thank you, Ex-Husband, for the education.