Why leaving an abusive relationship is so hard

“Why don’t you just leave?”

Her friend asks with the best of intentions. They are sitting in a café, her phone lying face down on the table, because every few minutes she checks whether he has messaged yet. She doesn’t answer the question. Not because she has no answer, but because she has too many, and none of them can be said in one sentence. Because she is afraid. Because of the children. Because the flat isn’t hers. Because last week he was like he was at the beginning again. Because she is ashamed it has come to this at all. Because she doesn’t know whether anyone would believe her. So all she says is: “It’s not that simple.” And her friend, a little disappointed, moves on to another subject.

This article is for both of them: for the person who stays in a relationship where there is abuse and blames themselves for it — and for the people who love them and don’t understand why they don’t go. I want to show that “it’s not that simple” is not an excuse, but a very precise description of reality.

First, something more important than anything else: this article is not a tool for assessing how dangerous your relationship is. If you are afraid for yourself or your children, call the SOS helpline for women and children affected by violence on 080 11 55 in Slovenia (free, anonymous), and in an emergency the police on 113 or 112. Your safety comes before anything written here.

The wrong question

The question “why doesn’t she leave?” contains a hidden assumption: that leaving is a simple, safe and obvious solution that the person, for some reason, is refusing. The burden of explanation thus falls on the one experiencing the abuse — not on the one committing it. It would be fairer to ask: why doesn’t he stop? And what stands between her and the door?

Abuse in intimate relationships is not rare. In a 2014 survey by the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, involving 42,000 women from all the then EU member states, 22% of women said that since the age of 15 they had experienced physical or sexual violence from a partner. Psychological violence was considerably more common still. That means almost every one of us knows someone who has been or is in such a relationship — even if we don’t know it.

Men experience abuse too, as do people in same-sex relationships and older people. In this article I sometimes write “she” and “he” because that is the most common configuration, but the mechanisms I describe apply to everyone. You will find a short explanation of what counts as abuse in a relationship in the knowledge base under violence in a relationship.

The fear makes sense: leaving is not the end of danger

One of the most important things to know is that leaving is not necessarily the moment the danger ends. For many, it is the moment it increases. In a large 2003 study of cases of women killed in the United States, the researcher Jacquelyn Campbell and her colleagues found that separation — especially from a highly controlling partner — was associated with a greater risk of the most severe outcome.

The person who stays often knows this, even without knowing any research. She knows her partner. She knows how he reacts when he is losing control. When people around her say “why doesn’t she leave”, she may be thinking: “If I leave, he’ll find me.” And that is not an exaggeration. It is an assessment that has to be taken seriously.

That is exactly why leaving an abusive relationship doesn’t happen the way leaving an unpleasant job does. It needs a plan, people who know what is going on, and often the help of professionals who deal with this every day. How such a plan is put together is the subject of A safety plan for abuse: what it is and how to put one together. The SOS helpline can help you with this too — you don’t have to work it all out on your own.

The bond that forms within the abuse itself

People on the outside often say: “If he hits you, you can’t possibly love him.” But feelings don’t follow that logic. As early as 1981, the psychologists Donald Dutton and Susan Painter described a phenomenon they called traumatic bonding. According to their findings, the bond between two people doesn’t only grow stronger despite the abuse — it can grow stronger because of the way abuse alternates with tenderness.

The mechanism goes like this: periods of tension and violence alternate with periods when the partner is tender, remorseful, attentive — the way he was at the beginning. It is the very unpredictability of this alternation that strengthens the bond. When a person is frightened and lonely, the relief that tenderness brings is all the stronger. And because the same person brings both fear and comfort, the body and the emotions attach to him even more tightly.

This is not a flaw of character. It is how our oldest attachment systems work. A frightened child runs to a parent — even if that very parent is the source of the fear. I wrote about what happens when the same person is both a source of comfort and a source of fear in Disorganised attachment: when the same person is both comfort and fear. Something very similar can be set off in an adult relationship.

Added to this is hope. Most people don’t stay in a relationship because of the abuse, but because of the person their partner was at the beginning — and whom they still glimpse from time to time. “When he’s good, he’s the best in the world.” With her investment model, the social psychologist Caryl Rusbult showed that we stay in relationships not only because of satisfaction, but also because of everything we have already put into them — years, a shared home, children, friends — and because of how poor the alternatives outside seem. In a study she published with John Martz in 1995, she showed that this also applies to women who had sought refuge from abuse: those with poorer alternatives outside the relationship and more invested in it were more likely to return to their partner.

Money, housing, children

Alongside the emotional reasons there are entirely practical ones. And these are often decisive.

Money. Abuse often includes control over money: the partner manages the salary, decides on every purchase, prevents the other from working, or all the accounts are in his name. A person without access to their own money can’t simply rent a flat. This is one of the forms described in the related article on economic abuse — and one of the hardest for people around to notice.

Housing. In Slovenia, finding affordable housing is hard for many people even without abuse. For someone who has to leave quickly, with children and no savings, it can be almost impossible. Safe houses and mothers’ shelters are an important support here, but many people don’t know about them or feel that “their case isn’t bad enough”.

Children. Parents often stay “for the children” — so that they have both parents, so they don’t lose their home, school and friends. Sometimes the reason is also the fear that after separation the abusive partner will get unsupervised contact with the children, and that she won’t be able to protect them then. That fear is serious, and it needs to be discussed with professionals who know the procedures. At the same time, it helps to know that children experience abuse even when they aren’t in the same room — and that this, too, is a reason people eventually decide to leave.

Institutions. Many people don’t know what happens if they call the police or go to a social work centre. They fear they won’t be believed, that their children will be taken away, or that the process will be long and humiliating. In Slovenia, the police can issue a restraining order in cases of violence, and social work centres have specific duties in dealing with domestic violence. When a person knows what to expect, the step becomes easier — which is why a call to the SOS helpline, even just for information, is often a sensible first step.

Shame and isolation

One of the most powerful reasons is often the least visible: shame. “How could I have let it come to this?” “What will my parents say — they warned me.” “Everyone thinks we’re the perfect couple.” Shame silences a person. And silence is exactly what abuse needs.

Abuse usually isolates gradually. The friends are gone, because the partner didn’t like them. There is less family, because every visit was followed by trouble. When the moment comes when a person needs someone to believe them, they find that no such person is close any more. I wrote about how shame whispers that something is wrong with us in Shame: the emotion that whispers “There is something wrong with me”. In abuse, that voice often sounds like this: “You brought it on yourself.” It isn’t true. Why these beliefs persist so stubbornly even after leaving is explained in Self-image after abuse: when you believe it was your fault.

Leaving is a process, not a moment

From the outside, we imagine leaving as a single moment: a suitcase, a door, the end. In reality, leaving an abusive relationship is almost always a process that takes time and involves several attempts. In a 2003 review, Kathryn Anderson and Daniel Saunders summarised the research on how people leave abusive relationships and found exactly this: leaving often happens gradually, with returns along the way, and each attempt changes something — the person learns where help is, finds out who will stand by them, and slowly builds trust in themselves.

This matters because people who go back often feel they have “failed again”. Sometimes the people around them even say so: “I knew you’d go back.” But going back is not proof that leaving will never happen. Often it is part of the path. Why people return, and what pulls them back, is discussed in more detail in Why victims go back to an abusive partner — and what holds them.

That is also why it makes no sense for anyone — friend, relative or professional — to issue ultimatums such as “if you go back, I won’t help you any more”. That only isolates the person further, and isolation is precisely what keeps them in the relationship.

It isn’t passivity — and not every hard parting is abuse

For a long time the prevailing explanation was that people stay in abusive relationships because of learned helplessness — that after repeated abuse they simply stop trying. There is a grain of truth in this: long-term abuse really does wear people down and can lead to a sense that nothing you do changes anything. But as early as 1988, the researchers Edward Gondolf and Ellen Fisher pointed out that this picture doesn’t hold for most people. The women in their research were anything but passive: they sought help repeatedly, turned to different services and developed their own survival strategies. The problem was not that they weren’t trying, but that the help they received was often not enough.

That changes the picture. A person who stays may be making dozens of decisions every day to protect themselves and their children: when to say something, when to keep quiet, when to take the children to their grandmother’s. Deciding not to leave yet is sometimes itself a safety decision. It is not for us, from the outside, to declare it weakness.

There is another important limit: not every relationship that is hard to leave is abusive. We also find it hard to leave relationships that are simply unhappy, empty, or where old attachment patterns keep repeating. There the reasons are often different — I wrote about why we go back to exes in Why we go back to exes, and when going back is a pattern rather than love. But when there is fear, control or violence in a relationship, the question is a different one, and the help has to be different too. In that case couples therapy is not an appropriate form of help, because a joint session can increase the danger. Specialist organisations for people affected by abuse and individual support are more suitable. I am not a specialist in abuse; but individual therapy can be one of the places where your decision — whatever it turns out to be — is heard without judgement.

When you are watching from the outside

If you love someone who is in an abusive relationship, the helplessness is hard. You want them to leave, and you don’t understand why they don’t. This is how a conversation might sound that helps more than the question “why don’t you leave” (composite, not a real person):

“I’m not going to ask you why you stay. I’d just like to know how you are.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes fine. Sometimes not.”
“What happened yesterday?”
A long silence. “He was shouting again. In front of the kids.”
“That sounds really hard. Do you feel safe at home?”
“Not always.”
“I’m not going to tell you what you have to do. But I’m here. And if you ever need somewhere to stay the night, or you’d like to call the SOS helpline with someone, I’ll come with you.”
“Thank you. I don’t know if I will.”
“You don’t have to know now.”

There is no advice in this conversation, no ultimatum and no judgement. But there is something that a person in an abusive relationship is often missing most: someone who believes them, who stays, and who doesn’t demand a decision on the spot. When she does decide, she will know whom she can come to.

If, however, you see immediate danger — threats with a weapon, violence in front of you, children at risk — don’t wait for her consent: call 113 or 112.

Exercise: a map of support

This exercise doesn’t measure danger and doesn’t decide for you. It helps you see what and who supports you — and where you might take one small step. You can do it today.

1. First, make sure you are safe. If your partner checks your phone or notes, don’t write the exercise down, or write it somewhere they can’t reach. You can also do it in your head, on a walk.
2. List the people who know at least part of the truth. Not only those who know everything. A colleague who once noticed a bruise. A neighbour who heard shouting. A sister who suspects. Each of them is a thread.
3. Choose one person you could tell a little more. Not everything. Just a little more than now. Think about when and where that would be safe.
4. Without judging yourself, write down what is holding you right now. Fear, children, money, hope, shame. Not to convince yourself that it’s wrong — but to see which obstacles are practical and where someone could give you concrete help.
5. Save one number somewhere safe. The SOS helpline, 080 11 55 in Slovenia, is free and anonymous. You can call simply to find out what would happen if you ever left — with no obligation.

If the exercise leaves you feeling very low, or thoughts come that you can’t go on, call Klic v duševni stiski (crisis line) on 01 520 99 00 in Slovenia (every day from 7 pm to 7 am) or the Samaritans’ helpline (Zaupni telefon Samarijan) on 116 123 in Slovenia (24 hours a day).

Where to find help

In Slovenia, the following are available to you:

• SOS helpline for women and children affected by violence: 080 11 55 — free and anonymous; they also help with finding a safe house;
• police: 113 — in immediate danger;
• emergency services: 112;
• Klic v duševni stiski (crisis line): 01 520 99 00 (7 pm–7 am) and Zaupni telefon Samarijan: 116 123 (24 hours);
• the social work centre in your area, which has specific duties in dealing with domestic violence.

Help is also offered by non-governmental organisations such as Društvo SOS telefon and Društvo za nenasilno komunikacijo (Association for Nonviolent Communication). When you are ready, they will help you think through your next step — not the one others expect of you, but the one that is safe for you.

If you have already left, a new period lies ahead in which your body and your relationship with yourself slowly settle. How trauma can be written into the body, and how the body can let it go, is the subject of How trauma stays written in the body — and how the body can let it go. When the abuse has been long-lasting and repeated, professionals speak of complex trauma, which needs time and patient support.

What to remember

• “Why doesn’t she leave?” is the wrong question. A fairer one is: what stands between a person and the door — and why the abuse doesn’t stop.
• Leaving is not necessarily the end of danger; for many it is the most dangerous period. That is why it needs a plan and professional help.
• The bond that forms when abuse alternates with tenderness is strong — that is not weakness, but how attachment works.
• Leaving is a process with several attempts; going back is not a failure and not a reason to abandon someone.
• Where there is abuse, couples therapy is not appropriate. Help in Slovenia: SOS helpline 080 11 55, police 113, emergency services 112.