Abuse doesn’t only wound the body or violate boundaries—it rewires how we think just to make it through. To survive a life of walking on eggshells, of minimizing harm, and of trying to keep the peace, many survivors develop inner narratives. These are the quiet thoughts repeated in the mind—the ones that help you rationalize, tolerate, or excuse what you’re going through. At the time, they can feel like lifelines. But after leaving, those very same thoughts can become stumbling blocks on the road to healing.
This is the internal dialogue of survival. And while these beliefs may have helped you endure the unendurable, they often linger long after the danger has passed.
“It’s Not That Bad”
One of the most common stories survivors tell themselves is that what they’re going through isn’t that bad. It's a way to cope with the unbearable. If you downplay it, maybe it’ll hurt less. Maybe you can stay. Maybe things will improve.
“I remember thinking (I still do), ‘Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I’m remembering it wrong. Maybe I’m exaggerating,’” one survivor shared. “It makes you go back thinking you were being ridiculous, and the wheel resets.”
Another said, “Too long. I kept thinking, ‘This is just the hard work of marriage,’ without realizing it was simply abuse.”
This mindset is often reinforced by outsiders who don’t understand the full picture—or by the abuser themselves, who may accuse their partner of being dramatic, too emotional, or overreacting.
“If I Just Try Harder…”
Many survivors live in a constant loop of self-improvement, believing that if they can be more loving, more patient, less emotional, or better in some other way, the abuse will stop.
One survivor wrote, “For 30 years I kept thinking if I just did better or acted differently, it would change—until I realized this year it's never going to change.”
Another echoed, “I used to think it was my fault. That I needed to be the bigger person and detach from my ego. That maybe when he told me I was grandiose, he was right.”
This kind of thinking is a survival strategy in environments where there’s no winning—only temporarily postponing the next outburst. It keeps the focus on self-correction instead of on the person who’s actually causing harm.
“They’re Not Always Like This”
Abuse is rarely constant. It comes in cycles—highs and lows, ‘kindness’ and cruelty, apologies and explosions. In between the pain, there are often moments of calm, laughter, or even tenderness. Survivors cling to these moments, convincing themselves that the good parts are real, and the bad parts are temporary.
“That’s what made it so hard to leave,” one survivor said. “If they were horrible all the time, you wouldn't stay. But it’s the intermittent reinforcement that keeps you stuck.”
Another shared, “We hang on to the crumbs of the nice parts, believing that’s their true self—and maybe they’ll improve.”
The idea that someone has a “good heart” beneath their harmful behavior is often enough to justify staying, hoping, and forgiving, even when the cost is immense.
“They’re Just Stressed”
Many survivors excuse their partner’s behavior as a symptom of something else—stress at work, a tough childhood, mental health issues, trauma, or alcohol. This narrative creates a context that shifts blame away from the abuser and makes the harm feel more understandable.
“He must have really been upset when he got fired from his job,” one survivor recalled someone saying to her—as if that justified the abuse.
Another wrote, “At first he played my heartstrings. Told me no one in his family loved him, that he was abused as a kid, suffered severe PTSD from the military. Then when his fake tears and victim mentality stopped working... he threatened to kill my parents.”
Empathy is a strength, but when weaponized, it can become a trap—one that allows abuse to continue unchecked while the survivor bends further and further backward to carry the emotional load.
“I’m the One Who’s Broken”
In abusive relationships, blame is often laid at the feet of the survivor. Over time, many start to believe that something must be wrong with them to be treated so badly—or to keep staying.
“We completely rely on them,” one person shared. “Put all our trust in them, assuming they know best, while we make ourselves smaller... constantly wondering what is wrong with us.”
Another said, “I became a mess because the real me kept fighting from deep within. At least now he's just a weaker voice in my head.”
This belief doesn’t just appear out of nowhere—it’s often reinforced over time by constant criticism, gaslighting, and emotional neglect.
“I Just Need to Be Stronger”
Survivors often pride themselves on endurance. Strength becomes a survival strategy. But that same strength can become a barrier to asking for help or recognizing the harm being done.
“I thought I was strong,” one survivor said. “I kept telling myself that my wife simply had some ‘issues’ that could be overcome.”
Another echoed, “I told myself I was just being too emotional. That I was making things worse by complaining. I thought being strong meant staying silent.”
True strength isn’t just surviving abuse—it’s having the courage to walk away, to ask for support, to heal.
Rewriting the Inner Narrative
The things we tell ourselves to survive aren’t shameful—they’re evidence of how hard we fought to cope, to stay safe, to make sense of what was happening. But they don’t have to remain part of our story forever. After leaving, part of the healing journey involves identifying these beliefs and gently questioning them.
With distance, support, and self-compassion, survivors begin to tell themselves something new: “It wasn’t my fault. It’s okay to feel what I feel. I’m not broken—I’m healing. I deserved better…”
Featured image: How abuse victims cope. Source: wayhome.studio / Adobe Stock
* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.
“At first he played my heartstrings. Told me no one in his family loved him, that he was abused as a kid, suffered severe PTSD from the military. Then when his fake tears and victim mentality stopped working... he threatened to kill my parents.”
This... is exactly my story to a t, except I never let it get far enough for him to threaten my parents. When I stopped feeling sorry for him and trying to fix him, he retaliated by turning my best friend against me and fabricating evidence to file a false police report against me. But these examples are the exact same tactics he used to get me to empathize with him.
While there was a grain of truth to all of his victim mentality, instead of trying to heal, he used his trauma as an excuse to abuse me. I'm glad I've finally escaped.
I've got an odd case, I guess.
I'm an autistic person, and I thought my spouse was bipolar.
I knew they had a history of abuse, neglect, and self harm, and parents who were very religious and terrible people. One parent in particular probably has actual NPD. Although I'm not a doctor; he's such a creepy, awful mess of a monster in human skin it just makes sense.
So my partner started off as my best friend. I knew they had problems and needed help. And as we had tough times, I gave them grace and tried to help them.
But the tough times just kept coming.
And they kept getting weirder and worse as what I thought were their manic and depressive phases came.
I never, ever thought it was my fault. I never, ever, thought I deserved it.
But I did get ground down and start to get physically weaker and sicker. I developed a worse case of autoimmune disease, and chronic fatigue.
I lost my ability to work. I lost my athleticism. I lost my photographic memory.
I couldn't stand life anymore, and wondered how long I'd have to endure the pain.
I definitely checked out of the relationship without realizing it. I still cared about them and tried to get their unwilling ass in front of a shrink, but every time they faffed off without me I felt such relief.
Every time they came back I kind of wondered why they bothered.