Breaking Free: The Moment I Chose Myself

I was 19 years old when I met my ex-husband through online dating. Young, hopeful, and believing in love, I thought I had found my forever. He introduced me to his family, made me feel like I belonged, and at 20, I married him in 2003—believing we were building a future together.

But what I didn’t realize was that I was walking into a nightmare disguised as love.

The control started small—subtle manipulation, little restrictions, constant gaslighting. Over time, it became total domination. He controlled the finances, kept me isolated from my family, and abused me emotionally, mentally, financially, and physically.

He cheated. And when I confronted him, he made me feel crazy. I was the one who was overreacting, the one who wasn’t enough, the one who had to change. But the truth was, he was stepping out of our marriage long before I ever questioned it.

In 2010, he had a child with another woman. Even then, I stayed, convinced that maybe things could still change, that maybe I could hold my family together. But it didn’t stop. The lies, the betrayals, the manipulation—it only got worse.

His mother tried to control me, too. And when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he would remind me that I wasn’t going anywhere. To make it worse, he turned our children against me, telling them that I didn’t care about them. That I was the problem. That I was the reason for everything wrong in our home.

I kept hoping that if I just loved him enough, if I tried hard enough, he would change. I tried to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect partner. But I soon realized that I was giving everything to someone who was draining me dry. Every ounce of love, energy, and self-worth I had was swallowed up by his need for control. He was the center of my world, but he was never there for me when I needed him the most.

The emotional scars were deep, but the physical abuse left its mark too. There were bruises, cuts, and broken pieces of myself that I had to hide from the world. I covered up the evidence with makeup, with smiles, with excuses. But the pain was always there, lurking beneath the surface. Each time I tried to leave, something would pull me back in—fear, guilt, the sense that maybe I deserved it, that maybe I couldn’t do better.

But then came the moment that changed everything.

During yet another argument, he looked me in the eye and said, “That’s why I’m cheating on your a**.”

That was it. That was the moment something inside me snapped.

I had endured 17 years of pain, betrayal, and control, but in that instant, I saw things clearly. I was done. The weight of it all—years of self-doubt, manipulation, and isolation—finally lifted. I realized that I didn’t need his validation anymore. I had been running on empty for far too long, trying to make a broken relationship work. But now, I understood that the real change had to come from me. I had to take back my power.

When I finally decided to leave in 2019, I remember feeling cold, shaky, unable to breathe. My body knew before my mind did—I was finally freeing myself. I didn’t shout, I didn’t explain, I didn’t give him another chance. I left in silence. No more excuses. No more justifications. I walked away from the man I had spent almost two decades with; from the life I had built in fear and sorrow.

Not all of my children came with me—one stayed behind, while the other two left with me. It broke my heart, but I knew that I couldn’t sacrifice myself any longer. I couldn’t be the martyr in a family that was falling apart. My own healing and peace had to come first. As much as I wanted to protect them from the fallout, I knew they would be better off seeing me stand up for myself than watching me stay in a toxic, suffocating marriage.

Two days after our divorce was finalized in 2020, he married someone else.

Seventeen years. Gone.

But I don’t look at it as a loss anymore. Because from the moment I walked away, I began to find myself again. I reclaimed my peace, my strength, my life. Slowly but surely, I began to rebuild. It wasn’t easy, and there were many times I doubted myself, questioned my choices, and wondered if I would ever truly heal. But with every step I took away from him, I grew stronger.

Since then, my journey has been one of healing, self-love, and rediscovery. I have learned that real love does not require suffering. That I deserve kindness, honesty, and peace. That leaving wasn’t a failure—it was the bravest thing I have ever done.

If you’ve ever felt trapped, unheard, or powerless, know this: You are not crazy. You are not alone. And you are strong enough to leave.

I am living proof that you can break free from the chains of abuse and start over. There is life beyond the pain, beyond the scars. Every day is a new beginning, and every day I choose myself. No matter what anyone else thinks or says, I am worthy of happiness, respect, and love. I am free, and I am finally, truly living.