Domestic Abuse Awareness Month: Why We Still Need to Talk About It

October is Domestic Abuse Awareness Month, and oh… we still need it. So much.

There is still far too little understanding of what abuse actually looks like. Just because you don’t have a black eye doesn’t mean you haven’t been abused. Emotional and psychological abuse can profoundly affect the way your brain processes information, how you see the world, and, ultimately, how you see yourself. Slowly, you can lose the ability to trust your own perceptions, feelings, and judgment.

And often, it starts beautifully.

You think you’ve finally met your person. Someone who sees you, understands you, and makes you feel loved. They seem to recognize all the beautiful things about you: your kindness, your capacity to love deeply, your empathy, your patience, and your willingness to see the good in others.

But those very qualities can eventually be turned against you.

Your patience becomes something to exploit. Your willingness to forgive becomes an opportunity to cross another boundary. Your belief that people can change becomes the reason you stay and try a little harder.

It might begin with a small comment about your appearance, your character, your family, or your friends. Something that stings, but when you react, they tell you it was just a joke. You’re being dramatic. Too sensitive. You need to learn to take a joke.

So you brush it off.

And then, just like that, everything is wonderful again. They return to the charming, loving person you thought you knew.

Until the next time.

Gradually, the boundaries they cross become bigger. What once would have been unthinkable slowly becomes part of your everyday life. They test how much you will tolerate, how far they can go, and how easily they can persuade you to doubt yourself.

Little by little, you begin to lose yourself. You become someone who constantly tries to anticipate their moods, avoid conflict, and do everything right. Someone who apologizes for having feelings. Someone who believes that if only they could become a little better, a little more patient, a little less sensitive, perhaps things would finally go back to the way they were.

And in the process, you lose respect for the very person who needs your love and protection the most: yourself.

When love becomes a trauma bond

In the beginning, you felt safe enough to be vulnerable. You shared your fears, your insecurities, your painful experiences, and the parts of yourself you rarely show anyone. Those intimate details, shared in trust, can later become weapons.

You find yourself working harder and harder to please someone who keeps moving the goalposts. You become exhausted, emotionally depleted, and increasingly disconnected from who you used to be.

All for a glimpse of what you had in the beginning.

And your brain plays a role in why it can be so difficult to leave.

Dopamine is involved in motivation, reward, and learning. When something pleasurable happens, our brain’s reward systems help reinforce the behaviors associated with that experience. But when affection and kindness alternate unpredictably with cruelty, rejection, or emotional punishment, that unpredictability can make the moments of affection especially compelling.

One day, they are cold, cruel, and distant. The next, they hold you, kiss you, tell you how much they love you, and become the person you fell for all over again.

And you feel that familiar rush of relief. Hope returns. Perhaps this time, things really will be different.

You start waiting for those sweet words, that loving touch, that brief return of the person you thought you knew.

This pattern of harm alternating with affection can contribute to what is known as a trauma bond: a powerful attachment that can develop within an abusive relationship and make leaving extraordinarily difficult.

It isn’t proof that the relationship is healthy. It isn’t proof that you belong together. And it certainly doesn’t mean you are weak.

It means that attachment, fear, hope, and unpredictable relief can become deeply intertwined.

So, when someone asks, “Why didn’t you leave earlier?”, perhaps we should ask a different question.

What happened to make leaving so difficult, and what support did that person have available to them?

Because for some survivors, leaving can feel like trying to break free from an addiction. Even after the relationship ends, they may continue to miss their abuser, long for the good moments, and grieve the person they believed their partner to be.

Healing can take time. Sometimes, a long time.

And survivors deserve compassion throughout that process, not judgment.

When leaving becomes the most dangerous part

If the abusive partner eventually loses interest, or you are no longer useful to them in the way you once were, they may be the ones to end the relationship. In some circumstances, that can spare you the additional danger of having to initiate the separation yourself.

Because when you finally begin to see things clearly and decide to leave, you may find yourself facing an entirely different nightmare.

Abuse does not always end when the relationship does.

Post-separation abuse can include stalking, harassment, threats, financial control, manipulation of children, damage to property, and attempts to turn friends, family members, or colleagues against the survivor. Sometimes, the groundwork has been laid long before the relationship ends: lies have already been spread, money has been concealed, and the survivor's credibility has already been undermined.

We teach women to be careful when walking alone at night, in bars, and in parking lots. Of course, personal safety matters in these places, too.

But we also need to talk about the dangers that can exist inside our own homes and the risks that can escalate when someone leaves an abusive partner.

According to UNODC and UN Women, around 60% of women and girls intentionally killed worldwide in 2023 were killed by an intimate partner or another family member. This figure refers to killings by intimate partners and other family members combined, not former intimate partners alone. Separation can nevertheless be a period of heightened risk, particularly when an abusive partner feels they are losing control.

This is why leaving must never be treated as a simple matter of courage or willpower. For some survivors, it requires careful safety planning, professional support, and people who understand the risks involved.

And no, abuse is not exclusive to men.

Women can be abusive, too. Men can be victims, too.

I work with male clients who have experienced terrible abuse. I see how deeply it affects them, and I see how difficult it can be for them to speak about it. The shame and stigma surrounding male victimization can make it even harder to ask for help, to be believed, or even to recognize what has happened to them as abuse.

Abuse is not defined by gender. It is defined by behavior, power, and the harm inflicted on another person.

Every survivor deserves to be heard, believed, and supported.

We have to start at the roots

We cannot keep addressing abuse only after the damage has been done.

We need to start much earlier.

In our schools, we need to teach children about boundaries, self-worth, empathy, respect, and emotional regulation. We need to help them understand what safety feels like, beginning with their own bodies. We need to teach them that love does not require them to abandon themselves, that no is a complete sentence, that another person's boundaries matter, and that hurting someone is never an acceptable price for getting what you want.

We need to teach them how to recognize healthy relationships, how to handle rejection, how to take responsibility for their actions, and how to repair harm without blaming the person they have hurt.

And we need to model these things ourselves.

Because children learn not only from what we tell them, but also from what they see us tolerate, how we treat one another, and how we respond when someone crosses a boundary.

I believe that if we invest in these lessons early enough, we have a real chance of raising a generation that loves itself and others in healthier ways.

And the impact would reach far beyond intimate relationships. It could change our families, our friendships, our workplaces, our communities, and ultimately, our society.

A woman I once met at a party called it emotional activism.

I loved that expression immediately.

Because creating change is not always about standing on a stage, leading a protest, or making headlines. Sometimes, it is about helping someone recognize that what they are experiencing is abuse. Sometimes, it is about listening without judgment, challenging a harmful belief, teaching a child to respect a boundary, or helping a survivor understand that what happened to them was never their fault.

Sometimes, it is about giving someone the words they have been missing for years.

I love my job. And I hope I will continue to be an emotional activist for many years to come.

Because every person who learns to recognize abuse, every boundary that is respected, every child who grows up understanding what healthy love looks like, and every survivor who finds the courage and support to reclaim their life brings us one step closer to a world in which fewer people have to experience this pain.

We need Domestic Abuse Awareness Month because awareness is still missing. But awareness alone is not enough. We need education, accountability, compassion, and change.

And that change begins with us.