By Talking About My Abusive Relationship, I Want to Help Others

Sarah Wasilak is the associate director of commerce at PS. For PS's Radical Honesty issue, she opens up about staying in an abusive relationship. Read more radically honest stories here.

Most of the time I spent in my long-term abusive relationship feels fuzzy to me now. When I try to think back to certain moments, it's like I'm peering into my life through a snow globe that I can hold in the palm of my hand. I see a figure that looks like me, but she isn't me, and the life she's imagining for herself has nothing to do with who I am today.

The moments that do feel more vivid are the ones I spent away from my ex during that time — with family and friends who somehow retained a vision of me they knew to be true. I can recall when my sister, frustrated, begged me throughout one birthday dinner celebration to see that the person who was supposed to be my partner and my equal was putting me down, belittling me, and making me feel small. (I was unconvinced, gradually separating my life with my ex from my family — save for the fight-or-flight moments when I felt I had no other option than to call for help.) I also see my best friend looking at me with a genuine mix of surprise, fear, and disappointment in her eyes when I told her for the millionth time, "We made up after our last fight" and "He's committed to going to couples therapy."

When I read about emotional and verbal abuse and what it entails by definition, I feel as though I'm paraphrasing a textbook written about that snow globe of a life. "Abusers often tell women they are worthless, unlovable, unattractive, etc., as a way to control them and make them scared that no one else will want them if they leave," Sarah Schewitz, PsyD, a licensed psychologist and the founder of therapy practice Couples Learn, recently told me. Dr. Schewitz and I chatted about the ways in which abusers form manipulation tactics to exert control, and it helped me realize why I felt so trapped — why I pushed aside concerns from my friends and family, and why I stayed.

By gaslighting me and subtly or blatantly insinuating I was not good enough, my ex instilled fear in me — fear of facing retaliation from him if I left, fear of dating again, fear of missing the person I shared a life with, fear of stepping into the unknown. There's also something to be said for the hit of dopamine I received when I was rewarded with his fleeting emotional reinforcement. The moments were so few and far between that they made me feel accomplished, like I'd successfully made it across a floor of eggshells without making a single crack.

When emotional abuse and cheating destroyed the relationship, I experienced a nervous-system collapse. Dr. Schewitz explained that this is because my body was on edge before, filled with stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. But once I finally felt safe, I slept a lot and went on autopilot. I blacked out a lot of this time period as well, going through the motions just to survive.

When my nervous system was eventually regulated, I felt uncomfortable with the feeling of receiving romantic love from others. Sometimes, I still do. My healing journey involved somatic experiencing therapy to process my trauma, and my work continues with a patient and loving partner by my side, whom I met when I was not necessarily ready to begin dating again. I so often rejected his compliments, kindness, and appreciation for who I am because my inner critic had been trained to believe I wasn't worthy.

There is an awful lot of shame surrounding this. It's the reason so many people who have been abused are resistant to the healing work that comes with taking back our power. But that's the reason I continue to tell my story — to remind women like me that it's OK to admit they accepted a love far lesser than what they deserve. And that they are strong enough to examine why that is, even though self-reflection can be scary. But I can confidently say now that it's worth it. Perhaps if this were acknowledged more often by the women around me while I was experiencing abuse, I would have been ready to make changes even sooner.

Now, when I think of snow globe girl and I see her in moments of struggle, moments of denial, and moments of being so blissfully unaware, I reach out to her, proudly, and I tell her, "One day, you'll thank me."

Jump back to the Radically Honest issue.

Sarah Wasilak is the associate director of commerce at PS. With plenty of experience in the shopping market, a keen interest in SEO, and 10 years as an editor at the brand, she enjoys writing across the lifestyle and health-and-fitness categories. She has bylines at PS, InStyle, Elle, Refinery29, Who What Wear, Elite Daily, Byrdie, and The Quality Edit and aims to amplify minority voices in all her work.