The Fear Ends Here

Last night I woke from a nightmare that he hurt me. I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed, afraid to even go to the bathroom in case he realised I was awake and came into my room. I could hear that he was awake too, and my mind wouldn’t stop racing.

I keep asking myself: why am I so scared? He has never hit me. Yes, he has thrown things. Yes, his moods swing from calm to angry without warning. But he has never raised a hand to me. Still, my body feels the fear. It lives in me now.

Sometimes I wonder if there are warning signs — the kind you only recognise after it’s too late. Families you read about in the news, where one partner snaps and does the unthinkable. Do they see it coming? Do they feel what I feel?

My family and friends tell me they are worried for me. They say he’s unhinged, that his moods are dangerous, and that he could hurt us. They say he is angry that I am standing my ground with this divorce. But then I start questioning myself. Am I scared of him, or am I scared because of what they are telling me? I didn’t believe them before when they said he was emotionally abusing me and controlling me. So should I believe them now? Or are they overreacting?

This is what emotional abuse does — it makes you doubt your own feelings, your own safety, even your own fear. It twists your reality until you question yourself at every turn.

I don’t have all the answers yet. My head still spins with questions. But one truth cuts through the noise: I shouldn’t be scared in my own home.

This is where I am — scared, questioning, but slowly finding my strength. Writing it down is my way of starting to take that power back.

The Fear Ends Here. I Choose Me.