I guess to build yourself up so high, you had to take her and break her down. –Keith Urban, Stupid Boy

The other day I was having a conversation with one of my oldest girlfriends. We have both been through some trying things in our lives and although we’ve had our ups and downs as far as friendship, we always seem to come back to each other. She mentioned that an episode of LivePD had made her think of me recently and she wanted to reach out and remind me that I was strong and capable, that I stood tall when it counted.

I was taken back by her compliment, despite the fact that she’s always been very genuine. It wasn’t really about her really, but more the idea that someone would consider me brave. Sure, I had gotten a restraining order eventually and kicked my ex to the curb but that had certainly taken some time. Sure, I had given birth to a seven pound baby without any drugs but there are plenty of women who do that everyday, with much bigger babies! Sure, I had faced my biggest fear and chosen to take an internship at a pretty scary domestic violence shelter but I wasn’t being forced to live there.

Maybe I am brave, I thought, maybe I am touching people and making a mark. Maybe I am showing people that domestic violence is never okay, that it’s something that affects so many of us, and that I’m willing to stand up and do something about it. I mean, I think I’ve pretty much proven that’s what my whole life is about…

But then other times I think, how could I have put up with something so terrible for so long? How could I knowingly allow someone to treat me like last week’s garbage when I knew, perfectly well, that it was never okay? How could I go through life everyday cowering every time he raised his voice, avoiding eye contact with male waiters, and starving myself to get skinny enough for some controlling man child? How could I convince my friends, over and over, that things were fine, that he just had a short fuse, when I knew otherwise? Even worse, how could I continue convincing myself?

Me, brave? Maybe I’m not so sure.

Still I’ll never understand why you hang around; I see what’s going down. –The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Face Down

Enough time has gone by for me to understand that there’s an absolute plethora of reasons why women stay with their abusers. It can be an issue of finances, as many women are forced to stay “home” with their abusive partners in order to survive monetarily. It could be an issue of self-confidence, as most abusers lead their significant others to believe they’re unworthy of someone better. It could also be an issue of legal woes or reputations because violent crime arrests are public record and no one wants to air their dirty laundry. It could also be pure, gut-wrenching fear because breaking away from a partner, no matter how abusive they may be, is absolutely terrifying.

Leaving an abuser could also be difficult because despite what they do to you, maybe you love them.

It’s like I’ve said a million times, with abusive relationships, you have to pick your battles. Maybe he is awful to you, maybe he beats you, but the rationale when deciding whether or not to rock the boat and leave the relationship is that you know what you’re getting if you stay.

I’m here to tell you: if you haven’t been there, you don’t get it. I don’t care what you think you know; you have no idea. It takes bravery like you’ve never seen or experienced. Have you ever been on the run from a murderous mafia? Worried about bombs under your car, drive by shootings or stalkers at your favorite Starbucks? Afraid to go to sleep at night because creepy things come in the dark of night? Worried about walking your dog down your usual, abandoned path? Concerned about having a drink with a girlfriend because you’re unsure if you have a tail?

That’s what leaving an abuser is like. Twenty fold.

Let me tell you why it took me awhile. I was super young and had never really witnessed any kind of violence prior to this. I grew up in a normal home with normal parents who didn’t communicate by yelling at each other, knocking over Christmas trees, or beating the tar out of each other.

I told myself DAILY that maybe, just maybe, I was being a little dramatic, that maybe I was blowing things out of proportion. I didn’t want to stir things up so much that I ruined his career because in his genuine defense (not that he really deserves it but whatever), he had worked really hard to get where he was. I was there for fire school, for every test and late night study session, for every scheduled burn and PT test. I was there when he said he didn’t want to clean his helmet because a dirty one made him feel like he’d actually done something meaningful and important.

And in addition to all of that, I genuinely believed him when he told me he was sorry or that things would change. He almost always had a perfectly logical reason for why he acted the way he did (honestly, anyone who knows him can attest to his ability to talk away his problems. It’s practically a talent…) and because he was such a good bullshitter, I always believed him, no matter what. I mean, shouldn’t I have? We loved each other, right?

It was okay to forgive each other. Tomorrow was a new day, wasn’t it? We can’t move on if you don’t let go of this, Kate, he’d said almost daily.

Cause if it wasn’t for all that you tried to do, I wouldn’t know just how capable I am to pull through, so I want to say thank you. –Christina Aguilera, Fighter

But like I’ve told my friends in similar situations, my family when I tried to explain why I was in such a mess of a relationship, and other victims like me when I became an advocate: One day, I just woke up and was sick of it.

One day I woke up and it was like an acorn had fallen on my head and reversed my firefighter induced lobotomy. What was I doing? Why was I putting up with this nonsense? Why was I letting him get physical with me, control my every move down to what I ate and drank, and dictate every aspect of this godforsaken, shit show of a relationship? And the worst part of it all was he’s not that intelligent of a guy. He’s not the only moderately handsome person in the state, and he certainly isn’t raking in the money. Why I put up with this garbage from someone who wasn’t all that nice, was only normally attractive, made crappy money but had decent benefits and couldn’t seem to figure out that it’s ValentiNe’s and not ValentiMe’s is beyond me.

It’s almost laughable.

I’m sure he’ll run to all his friends after reading this (if he even made it past the first couple paragraphs) and talk about what an awful social worker I am for belittling him via the internet where he is unable to defend himself. But you know what? If the etnies fit, wear them, honey.

Ask me if I care.

It was like, one day I just woke up from this nightmare. And to be honest with you, I don’t know what it was that flipped the switch. I had always had people in my corner telling me to get out before things got any worse. My ex-boyfriend, with whom I was really close with in those years, had told me that it wasn’t a competition between them anymore; he just wanted me safe and away from him. You have people on your side, he would always tell me.

It just seemed like a decision that I had to come to on my own. I had to see him, for what he really was, for myself. Those people who had always reached out and tried to lend a hand of support, I’ll always be grateful for. But this was like an addiction, and I had to get clean for myself first. The rest of those people would fall in line when I was ready and if they weren’t, well then, I didn’t need that kind of negativity in my life.

I won’t say it was easy; I definitely coped in my own way. I drank a lot and got attention where I could get it. But I stood on my own two feet and I did what I had to do to get rid of him. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), that meant blocking everyone even remotely connected to him out. Even if they had never crossed me, even if I wasn’t sure if they still spoke, if there was a slight chance that he could find me, I cut the ties. If I was out in public and saw one of his friends, close or otherwise, I would grab my stuff and leave. I lived a very safe life for a long time and I made sure that I was almost never alone. Because that’s when he would always strike.

When he had no witnesses.

You know what’s strange? Not long after I had my daughter, I was shopping at Target (one of my absolute favorite places) and I just happened to bump into this girl who was sort of in our little group of friends. She had never done anything to me that even merits an eyebrow raise but since I assumed that she was still close with all those people, I was super tight lipped. My husband had run out to get my baby carrier and of course she [unintentionally] surprised me when I was alone.

She was nice, as she always was, but I found my heart beating faster and my throat getting dry. She was asking me a million questions and commenting on how pretty my daughter was and I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. My husband came back to the store after a few minutes of talking and sauntered over (he has this adorable little swag that I still find swoon worthy after almost ten years) and smiled his perfect smile. “Who’s this?” he turned towards her, protective as ever.

I made introductions and we went our own separate ways. I explained who she was and told my husband that I was feeling paranoid, that she had asked me 6843906 questions about my life now, and that I was certain she was going to run back to him and tell him everything. My husband furrowed his brow and sipped his Starbucks, “Could it be that she just hasn’t seen you in awhile and genuinely wanted to know how you’re doing?”

Whatever, we all know he’s smarter than me. And we all also know that I’m paranoid as you know what, hence the blog title. But the point of this story isn’t that this woman is some demon minion out to gather useless information for my wild animal of an ex-boyfriend. It’s that, for logical reason, even nearly a decade later, I have a healthy fear of this man. It’s not an overwhelming fear or something crazy that I need therapy for. He’s kind of like an alligator to me: I’m certainly not scared of him but if I saw him somewhere, I would run away [in a zig zag].

I tend to not venture onto our old stomping grounds and I basically never go anywhere without my husband. I’m brave in the sense that I live a safe life, I stay out of trouble, and I don’t go to places where I’ll happen upon my ex-boyfriend. Because that wouldn’t be good for any of us. Certainly not my precious, innocent child.

And if he ever did approach me in public, I would be rational about it because I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s day. He’s still a human being, after all (who’s made an insane amount of mistakes). But it definitely wouldn’t be something I’d enjoy.

But sometimes, you’ve just got to do what’s best for the greater good.

Moral of the Crazy: They say that with bravery comes cockiness, a tendency to color outside the lines because you’re getting comfortable with the safety in which you reside. Well, that ain’t me.

I’ve made plenty of mistakes in the way of my ex-boyfriend and I let him control me for too long. I will never, ever live outside the parameters of what’s acceptable and what isn’t. I’ve made a life out of helping others leave dangerous situations and understanding why the relationship they’re in isn’t a safe one. So forgive me if I sound paranoid or overdramatic, but why would I not practice what I preach?

But I wanted to expound a little bit on bravery because to be honest, it’s definitely a trait I covet in others. And it’s not something that I feel like I really possess. But I’m getting better everyday because I want to be the woman my daughter deserves.

Bravery is more than being able to walk down a dark alley unafraid. It’s more than giving a speech in front of a million people or daring to follow your dreams. It’s more than running into a burning building when everyone else is running out. And it’s more than pushing your political views on everyone because hey, it’s Facebook and you can do what you want.

Bravery is about standing up for what you know is right, even if it means losing people. Bravery is about risking everything you’ve ever considered to be important because you know you deserve better. Bravery is about seeking legal protection, even if it affects the other person’s employment. Bravery is about handling an argument without violence, about walking away from a fight, and about owning up to your mistakes.

It’s about turning the other cheek even when you to want to kill someone for what they did to you.

In today’s world, especially, I think people are so hyped up and ready to pop off. People are so willing to just commit atrocities because someone crossed them or cut them off in traffic. You know, I once saw this video where some guy was tailgating or something, and then the guy who was being tailgated pulled out a handgun when he pulled up next to him. I mean, come on, really? Protecting your home and property, okay. But you’re willing to murder someone and go to jail (and hello, give up your WHOLE LIFE) because someone was tailgating you?

Get over yourself.

And maybe that’s what bravery means to me. Sure, you could beat up that guy at the bar but you know what would be even better? Showing the bystanders that you are unfazed by what an idiot he is and walk away from the bullshit. Do you know what’s not subjective? What’s right or what’s wrong. You want to be brave? Make the right choice.

In every situation, everyday.

So maybe I was brave a couple times and maybe I wasn’t. But I’m learning. I’m trying to be better everyday. I’m learning that being assertive doesn’t have to mean you’re vicious and certifiable. It doesn’t have to mean you’re in attack mode. I’m learning that sometimes you have to stand up for what you feel is right, even if it means the rest of the world is against you.

And I’m learning that you don’t have to love your enemies, you don’t even have to respect them. But there is only so much you can allow them to take from you. And I’m done letting mine take my peace. I’ve got way too many things going for me.

It’s like they say, the best revenge is success. And I’m well on my way.

And enemies take your peace, but they won’t last forever. –Sister Hazel, Sword and Shield