I never thought I would be the type of woman to stay in an abusive relationship.

I was smart. Independent. Raised to be strong.

But when I met Jordan, I didn’t see the red flags right away. He was charming, attentive, the kind of guy who made me feel like the most important person in the world.

Until he didn’t.

It started small—jokingly criticizing my outfits, questioning my friendships, making me feel guilty for wanting time alone. By the time he started controlling who I talked to, I had already started to rationalize his behavior.

"He just loves me too much.
He’s only like this because he’s afraid of losing me.
If I just stop making him jealous, things will get better."This is what I often told myself .

The first time he grabbed my wrist hard enough to bruise, I told myself it wasn’t a big deal. The first time he shoved me, I convinced myself  it wasn’t abuse.

By the time I realized I needed to leave, I wasn’t sure who I was without him.

It took months of secretly saving money, of rehearsing what I’d say, of fighting the voice in my head telling me to stay. When I finally walked away, it didn’t feel like freedom—it felt like withdrawal.

Even now, some nights, I miss him. But I know missing him doesn’t mean I should go back.

                                  - Rayanna