I’m in my 30s, we’ve been together 7 years and live together. I’ve decided I’m leaving and I’ve started looking at flats.
But keep freaking out and convincing myself I’m making a massive mistake, because the difficult thing is he's actually has got better.
He hasn’t put his hands on me for about four years. Earlier in the relationship there was a small shove in public, and another time he grabbed both my wrists and held them because we were arguing about how I was cleaning something. He’s thrown water at me and punched a door. I spoke to a domestic abuse charity last year and they called some of that physical abuse.
But it was years ago, and now it stopped.
He also used to call me an idiot, moron, “borderline retarded”, ungrateful bitch, etc. That’s mostly stopped too. The last really horrible one was the C word about five months ago when he was drunk, and he apologised properly afterwards and was genuinely lovely about it.
So my brain keeps going well… isn’t this what you wanted? He improved. Things are objectively better. Why are you leaving now?
What’s left is smaller, but it’s constant.
When he gets angry he’ll still throw things not at me, but things like a metal bar across the room, a bin, a hoover, or slam doors and drawers. If I tell him to stop, I’ve been told to fuck off.
If I raise something that’s upset me, somehow we end up arguing about whether I’m allowed to be upset by it. “You weren’t insulted, you were just insulted.” “It’s just a fact.” “It’s just a joke, don’t you know what a joke is?”
He’ll make jokes about me in front of his friends. Once he joked that I was basically “a shell of a person” before I met him. But I made one dry joke about him not doing chores at dinner and got a conversation the next day about how ungrateful I was.
I also do a ridiculous amount for him. Most of the cooking, food shopping, laundry, breakfasts, dinners, random errands, remembering his plans and all the little things he needs.
The night I found out my grandmother was in palliative care I was crying in bed in front of him. He basically said “well what can you actually do for them?” About twenty minutes later he put my hand on his dick and asked if I was okay to give him a handjob. I did, because at the time it genuinely felt easier than saying no and dealing with him being disappointed.
That one still makes me feel sick when I think about it.
But I think the thing that’s really made me realise something is wrong is how much I police myself now.
Last week there was a gig I wanted to go to and I just didn’t go because I knew what the mood would probably be like when I came home even though nobody told me I couldn’t go.
Same with a poetry night recently. I was supposed to perform and I left before my slot because I’d said I’d be home by a certain time and didn’t want him annoyed.
Again, he didn’t text me demanding I come home. He didn’t stop me. I just did it myself.
I think I’ve got so good at anticipating what might cause an argument or a mood that sometimes things genuinely are better, because I’ve already edited myself before anything happens.
Then we have a nice weekend. He’s funny and sweet and affectionate and we have a laugh and suddenly I feel like an absolute monster for planning to leave someone who has “got better”.
I don’t think he’s some cartoon villain. There are loads of things I love about him. That’s part of why this is so fucking hard.
So I’d really like to hear from people who left after their partner genuinely improved.
How did you deal with the guilt of thinking, but they changed, isn’t that what I was asking for?
Did “better” eventually become good enough for you?
If you still left, did you regret it?
Because right now I keep feeling like I need someone to give me permission, even though logically I know I shouldn’t need permission to leave a relationship I don’t want to be in anymore.