Dr Niyati on Why Abuse Victims Stay, Doubt Themselves, and Struggle to Leave

Understanding the psychological forces that make abuse difficult to recognise, leave, and recover from

What you’ll find in this article:

• Why survivors often struggle to leave abusive relationships, even when they recognise the harm

• How intermittent kindness, trauma bonds, and cycles of abuse create confusion and self doubt

• What happens when chronic blame and invalidation lead you to believe you are the problem

• Why leaving abuse can feel frightening, overwhelming, and disorienting rather than empowering

• How shame, judgment, and isolation can affect recovery long after the relationship ends

• 7 things that help survivors heal, rebuild self trust, and feel supported after abuse

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Welcome back to Expert Insights and to Part 2 of my conversation with Dr. Niyati Kadakia.

In Part 1, Dr. Niyati explored the wider cultural, familial, and social systems that can shape a woman’s understanding of abuse and influence her ability to respond to it. In this second part of our conversation, we move from the external systems surrounding abuse to the internal experience of living through it and leaving it behind.

Dr. Niyati explores some of the questions survivors ask themselves most often: Why was it so difficult to leave? Why did I doubt myself? Why did I stay hopeful for so long? She explains how attachment, trauma, intermittent kindness, and chronic invalidation can reshape a person’s perception of reality, gradually eroding self trust and creating profound confusion.

We also discuss what happens after leaving. Many survivors expect freedom to bring immediate relief, only to find themselves overwhelmed by grief, fear, loneliness, and self doubt. Dr. Niyati offers a compassionate and psychologically informed understanding of why this happens, why recovery can feel so disorienting, and what genuinely helps survivors rebuild a sense of self after prolonged abuse.

This conversation is rich with insight, validation, and practical understanding. I think many of you will recognise your own experiences in Dr. Niyati’s words, and perhaps find comfort in knowing that so many of the struggles survivors carry are not signs of weakness, but deeply human responses to prolonged harm.

Dr. Niyati is a Doctor of Clinical Psychology, Associate Clinical Psychologist, and the creator of The Braided Path™ - a culturally grounded model of post-traumatic growth designed to support women in reclaiming voice, identity, agency, and meaning after adversity, harm, relational and gender based violence. Her perspectives and work have been featured on public radio in the United States, including NPR-affiliated KPBS. She is also the author of the Substack newsletter Maitri: Empowerment, Reinvention, and Post-Traumatic Growth, where she explores the intersections of psychology, culture, creativity, resilience, and the human capacity for transformation. More information on her background can be found here.

The conversation begins with one of the questions survivors ask themselves more than almost any other: “Why couldn’t I just leave sooner?”

Many survivors struggle with the question, “Why couldn’t I just leave sooner?” How would you help someone understand their own situation through this lens?

Many survivors ask themselves this question because once they are outside the situation, the reality can appear obvious in retrospect. But psychologically, people do not experience abusive or controlling dynamics from the outside looking in - they experience them from within attachment, fear, conditioning, hope, and survival.

Research on coercive control, trauma bonding, and learned helplessness shows that abusive dynamics often develop gradually and intermittently, making recognition far more complex than people assume (Stark, 2007; Dutton & Painter, 1993; Seligman, 1975). Harm is frequently mixed with care, attachment, reconciliation, dependency, or periods of normalcy, which creates powerful psychological confusion.

In many traditional/religious/collectivist cultural contexts, additional layers become involved: family expectation, social reputation, economic dependency, religious or moral pressure, fear of shame, and the belief that enduring difficulty is part of being a “good” woman. Leaving may therefore feel psychologically tied not only to losing a relationship, but to losing belonging, identity, stability, and community.

I often encourage survivors to stop asking: “Why didn’t I leave sooner?” and begin asking: “What conditions made it difficult for me to recognize, trust, or act on what I was experiencing?”

That shift is important because it moves the focus away from self-blame and toward understanding the larger psychological and relational system surrounding the person.

From an attachment and neurobiological perspective, human beings are wired to preserve connection and reduce threat (Bowlby, 1969). Under chronic stress, many people move into survival-based coping: minimization, fawning, freezing, self-blame, emotional numbing, or trying harder to restore safety within the relationship (van der Kolk, 2014).

And importantly, many survivors were not taught to trust themselves in the first place. They were taught to preserve harmony, accommodate others, and doubt their own distress.

So I think healing often begins when survivors understand that their responses were not signs of weakness or failure, but adaptive responses to prolonged relational, psychological, and often cultural conditioning.

That understanding can become the beginning of self-compassion, clarity, and eventually, reclamation of self.

How does intermittent kindness and cycles of harm affect a person’s ability to clearly see what is happening to them?

Intermittent kindness can be one of the most psychologically confusing aspects of abusive or controlling dynamics because the harm is not constant. The person is not living inside permanent cruelty - they are often moving between pain, relief, hope, attachment, fear, and reconciliation.

Research on trauma bonding and intermittent reinforcement shows that inconsistent cycles of affection and harm can create very strong emotional attachment patterns, particularly under conditions of stress and unpredictability (Dutton & Painter, 1993; Walker, 1979). In behavioral psychology, intermittent reinforcement is known to strengthen attachment because the uncertainty itself increases emotional focus and investment.

So when moments of kindness, apology, tenderness, or normalcy occur after harm, many people understandably hold onto those moments as evidence that: “things are getting better,” “this is the real person,” or “maybe I am overreacting.”

This can make it very difficult to clearly recognize the larger pattern.

In many cultural contexts, especially those that place strong emphasis on preserving relationships and family cohesion, these moments of kindness are often reinforced socially as proof that the relationship is still salvageable:

“See, he does care,”
“Every couple has problems,”
“Focus on the good.”

This is something I see repeatedly in clinical work.

Over time, the person can become psychologically organized around managing the cycle itself:

• Trying to prevent the next rupture

• Working harder for the return of closeness

• Becoming hyper-attuned to small signs of approval, calm, or affection.

Research on chronic relational stress and attachment disruption shows that this unpredictability can significantly impact emotional regulation, self-trust, and threat perception (Herman, 1992; van der Kolk, 2014). The nervous system becomes oriented toward survival and repair rather than clarity.

And I think this is important: many survivors are not staying because the relationship is “bad all the time.” They are often staying because moments of kindness create hope, attachment, and confusion within a larger pattern of harm.

That is why understanding the full relational pattern - rather than isolated moments - becomes so critical in helping people see their situation more clearly.

What is happening internally when a woman starts to believe, “Maybe I’m the problem”?

When a woman begins believing, “Maybe I’m the problem,” what is often happening internally is not objective self-reflection, but the gradual internalization of chronic invalidation, blame, and relational distortion.

In many controlling or abusive dynamics, responsibility for harm is subtly shifted away from the behavior causing distress and onto the woman’s emotional responses, needs, or reactions. Over time, especially when this occurs repeatedly within close attachment relationships, many women begin questioning their own perception, judgment, and reality (Freyd, 1996; Herman, 1992).

But I think it is important to understand that this process is not only psychological - it is often deeply cultural and moral as well.

In many religious or collectivist contexts, women are frequently socialized around ideals of the “good woman”: patient, self-sacrificing, forgiving, enduring, family-oriented, and spiritually tolerant.

These ideas are often reinforced not only socially, but through selective interpretations of religion, scripture, and moral duty. Concepts such as seva, sacrifice, obedience, preserving the family, or maintaining harmony can become deeply intertwined with feminine identity and worth.

So when harm occurs, many women do not first ask: “Is this treatment wrong?”

Instead, the internal question becomes:
“Am I failing at being good enough?”
“Am I not patient enough?”
“Am I too emotional?”
“Am I not spiritually evolved enough to handle this?”

In clinical work, I often see women carrying enormous guilt for having normal human reactions to chronic pain, disrespect, betrayal, or control. And because many have been taught that a virtuous woman absorbs suffering quietly, their distress itself begins to feel like evidence of personal failure.

Over time, this can create profound self-alienation. Research on chronic invalidation and relational trauma shows strong links to shame, anxiety, depression, emotional dysregulation, and erosion of self-trust (Linehan, 1993; van der Kolk, 2014).

I think one of the most painful aspects is that many women are attempting to preserve not only relationships, but also morality, identity, spirituality, and belonging all at once.

So when a woman begins believing “Maybe I’m the problem,” it is often not because she has accurately assessed reality.

It is because the psychological, cultural, relational, and sometimes even spiritual frameworks around her have taught her to locate the problem within herself before questioning the system causing the harm.

You describe leaving abuse not as a moment that feels empowering, but as something that can feel disorienting, frightening, and isolating. What do you see most often in people at that stage?