There is constant talk about domestic violence survivors. Many people rush to help the once they find out. There is always an outpouring of support. There is one thing that will make them distance themselves though. When they find out how long you stayed. They don't understand why you would stay, and their kind words turn to judgement and anger. They will get angry at you for staying, and they will never understand why. I stayed through two violent relationships, and they took up 5 years of my life. I don't want to admit that I stayed, but in the end, I did.

It was the first hit that startled me. I wasn't prepared for it, and I didn't know it was going to happen. It shocked me so much that I pretended it didn't happen. If I refused to believe it was real then it wasn't. When it happened again I did the same thing. When it happened the third time I was forced to accept what was happening. I tried to bring it up, and for the next week I was forced to wear a scarf around my neck. I learned the hard way that bringing it up would make it worse.

I began to pretend that it wasn't happening. I knew it would continue to happen, but I believed that it would stop eventually. I told myself that he loved me. He told me that he loved me, so I knew he did. I told myself that he was just having a bad day. He wasn't the best student, and he probably just had a rough day at school. He probably was having problems with his dealer. He just had anger that he needed to take out on something. He took it out on me. I figured he would eventually find a better way to handle it, but until then I could take it.

When someone saw one of my bruises and asked what it was I panicked. I told him thinking it would make him stop. Instead he just found different places to hurt me. Eventually there was less physical harm. He saw that I had grown numb to it. He began to say painful things instead. He discovered that I couldn't handle what he said about me. If I showed no emotion he would add in a bruise to make it worse.

He always acted like it hadn't happened afterwards. He acted like everything was normal. There was a beautiful period where he would shower me with gifts and compliments. I was his princess, and I would be shown off to everyone. The anger and violence didn't happen more often or less often. It would happen at the weirdest times. I could see the switch in his posture, and I knew it was about to get worse.

There was always the time when it was better though. It was the cute blue teddy bear with the necklace. It was the bracelet that he bought for me. It was the arm around the waist while showing me off. It was the blanket he covered me with when I was tired. It was the stars we used to watch at night. It was the hills we used to sled down and the igloos we built.

In the end I stayed for those moments. The moments where I thought that I would marry him. I stayed for the love I thought we shared. I stayed for the comfort he could bring me. I didn't stay for the bruises he dotted my body with. I didn't stay for the insults he would throw at me. I didn't stay for the yelling or the anger. I stayed for the love.