Deciding to file for divorce was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. It wasn’t because we’d grown apart, become financially incompatible, or developed different beliefs. I wasn’t looking for greener grass or an easier life.
I was trying to figure out how to keep my child and myself safe.
My marriage was never easy. It wasn’t sunshine and rainbows, although I’m not sure any marriage is. Looking back, I can see the red flags so clearly that I sometimes wonder how I managed to overlook them for so long. But that’s the thing about hindsight. It gives you clarity you didn’t necessarily have when you were living through it.
I remember being a few months pregnant with our son when my then-husband and I had an argument. There was yelling, emotions were high, and all these years later, I couldn’t tell you what we were even fighting about.
But I remember him breaking the television.
I remember that part perfectly.
It was the first of many acts of violence that would become increasingly frequent throughout our marriage.
I want to be clear about something. I didn’t have black eyes or the obvious physical injuries people often associate with abuse. What I experienced was quieter, more calculated, and much easier to hide from the outside world.
If I was too happy, I was questioned. If I wasn’t happy enough, I was accused of being depressed. If I worked, there were questions about coworkers, my intentions, or something supposedly wrong with the workplace.
At one point, I was asked to stay home and raise his daughter and our son. At the time, I believed he simply wanted me involved in the children’s lives. Looking back, I see how staying home also made it harder for me to establish financial independence.
I held several jobs throughout our marriage, but working consistently came with its own set of problems. I was questioned, criticized, and made to feel guilty for wanting to work.
Eventually, the constant back and forth left me feeling trapped.
The truth is, I knew I wanted out while I was still pregnant.
But wanting a divorce and feeling safe enough to get one are two very different things.
In Texas, a divorce generally cannot be finalized while one spouse is pregnant. And after our son was born, I faced an entirely different fear.
What would custody look like?
Would we share possession of our child? How much time would he spend away from me? Would he be safe when I wasn’t there?
Those questions terrified me.
I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving a situation where I could at least be physically present to protect him, only to find myself unable to protect him when he was somewhere else.
So I made a decision that probably wouldn’t make sense to everyone.
I would stay.
I quietly convinced myself I could make it another 18 years. If staying meant I could maintain some semblance of control over our child’s safety, that was what I was going to do.
And for a while, that’s exactly what I tried to do.
The next six years weren’t all bad. We took vacations. We attended holiday parties with friends and family. We cooked meals together. We celebrated birthdays and holidays. From the outside, we probably looked like a fairly ordinary American family.
But behind closed doors, things were very different.
The arguments could be terrifying. Holes were punched in drywall. Household objects were broken in anger. There were threats and instances of physical restraint.
And I learned to live around it.
I learned what might cause an argument. I learned when to stay quiet. I learned how quickly an ordinary day could turn into something else entirely.
For years, I told myself that whatever was happening between the adults, I could manage it as long as our child was safe.
Until one day, he wasn’t.
The violence was no longer directed only toward me.
My then-husband became physical with our child.
I’m not going to share the details of that incident. Some parts of my child’s story belong to him, and I intend to respect that.
But I will tell you what changed for me that day.
For years, I had justified staying because I believed it was the best way to protect him. I thought being there, being present, and maintaining some control over our circumstances was safer than the unknown.
That day, I realized the very thing I had stayed to prevent had happened anyway.
And suddenly, the unknown didn’t seem nearly as frightening as staying.
I didn’t know how I would afford to live on my own. I didn’t know where we would live, how I would support us, or what the custody process would look like.
I didn’t have a carefully organized exit plan. I didn’t have all the answers.
But I knew I couldn’t keep making decisions based on what I was afraid might happen if I left when I could see what was happening if I stayed.
So I called the police.
We left in an ambulance.
And the next day, I filed for divorce.
I had spent years believing that staying was how I protected my child. I never imagined that one day, protecting him would mean doing the very thing I had been so afraid to do.
Leaving didn’t magically solve everything. There were legal battles, financial struggles, and plenty of moments when I wondered how I was going to manage it all.
But I knew one thing.
We were going to do everything possible to build a life where we could feel safe.
And at that moment, that was enough for me.
If you’re reading this because you’re trying to decide whether to stay or leave, I won’t pretend to know what the right answer is for your situation. I remember how terrifying that decision felt, especially when I didn’t know what custody, finances, or life on my own would look like.
What I wish someone had told me is that you don’t have to wait until something happens that makes the decision for you. You deserve to understand your options, to speak privately with people who can help you make a safety plan, and to know that protecting your child doesn’t have to mean sacrificing your own safety.
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, the National Domestic Violence Hotline offers confidential support, resources, and safety-planning assistance.
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