Staying After the First Warning
I have stayed longer than I should have in nearly every relationship I've been in.
Not after the tenth warning—but after the first.
The first hint of manipulation.
The first moment where anger crossed a line.
The first instance where love felt unsafe instead of imperfect.
I told myself it was patience. Grace. Commitment. Faithfulness.
It wasn't.
When Abuse Was No Longer Subtle
One moment still stands out with painful clarity.
I took my girlfriend to Las Vegas—a place meant for escape, excitement, shared experience. Instead, it became a moment of fear. She barricaded the hotel room door so I couldn't leave. Later, she struck me on the back of the head with a hairbrush—not playfully, not accidentally, but out of anger.
In those moments, something inside me knew:
This isn't love.
And yet, I stayed.
How Fear Masqueraded as Loyalty
I didn't stay because I believed the behavior was acceptable.
I stayed because I was afraid.
Afraid of being alone.
Afraid of confirming the belief that love never stays.
Afraid that leaving meant I had failed—again.
Somewhere along the way, loyalty became tangled with endurance, and fear learned how to speak in spiritual language.
A Pattern Formed Long Before Romance
This wasn't isolated.
I've been manipulated and abused in different ways my entire life—emotionally, relationally, spiritually. Staying became a reflex. Leaving felt dangerous. Speaking up felt risky.
I learned early that survival often meant compliance.
So when abuse appeared later, my instincts didn't sound alarms.
They whispered: This is famiiar.
What Faith Was Never Asking of Me
Faith never asked me to stay where I was being harmed.
God does not confuse love with control.
He does not call endurance holy when it destroys the soul.
He does not ask His children to remain where dignity is violated.
What I mistook for faithfulness was fear wearing the mask of virtue.
Learning That Boundaries Are Not Betrayal
One of the hardest lessons has been this:
Leaving is not a lack of loyalty.
Setting boundaries is not abandonment.
Protecting yourself is not a failure of faith.
God's design for love includes safety, respect, and mutual care. Anything that strips those away is not something to be endured—it is something to be confronted or left behind.
Unlearning the Need to Stay
I am still unlearning the instinct to stay.
Still catching myself minimizing harm.
Still questioning my right to leave.
Still reminding myself that love does not require suffering to be real.
Faith is teaching me that loyalty begins with truth—and truth does not ask me to disappear.
What Staying Taught Me—and What I'm Learning Now
Staying taught me how deeply fear can root itself in the heart.
Faith is teaching me something different now.
That God does not live in the places that harm me.
That obedience does not require silence.
That love, when it is real, does not need barricades.
I stayed longer than I should have.
But I am learning—slowly, deliberately—that staying is not the same as being faithful.
And leaving can be an act of trust.
"I sought the Lord, and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears." — Psalm 34:4