Leave Now Because He Hasn't Yet Closed the Door

He'll shower you with petals and starlight until you've invested enough to be tempted into a sunk-cost fallacy. That’s the last time escaping will be easy. Now the prison bars will rise up around you. You’ll start bouncing between abuse and euphoria thick enough to choke on. The chemical highs and lows are addictive, so even if you haven’t accepted your abuser’s low opinion of you yet, it feels impossible to get away. Add Stockholm Syndrome and the baffling effects of gaslighting to the mix, and you’re eventually left without the resources you need to leave.

Have you ever bought a movie ticket, hated the film, but kept watching to get your money's worth? You’ve already lost your cash, but now you’re going to insist on wasting two hours of your life that would have been better spent not watching Nicholas Cage impersonating a crack addict for the seventieth time.

I experienced the same thing in an abusive relationship.

When my new beau was kicking up enough red flags to land an airplane, I stayed. I didn’t have absolute certainty, and I’d lose nothing by staying another month to find out if he was really Jekyll or Hyde. Five minutes later, everything turned into a snuff film.

Maybe you’re seeing red flags, too, but you won’t leave the first time he lies to you because he’s your soul mate. You can forgive his off days. Besides, his last partner destroyed him. You can love him better. You swear it.

You won’t leave the second time because you’ve stopped trusting your judgement. Maybe all those lies and consent violations aren’t such a big deal.

You won’t leave the third time because you’ve developed enough self-hatred to think you deserve the abuse.

You won’t leave the fourth time because you’re scared he’ll really hurt you and your family.

We can do this all year because, on average, people leave abusive relationships seven times before they manage to stay away permanently.

One of the surest ways to lose a poker game is to go “full tilt.” Every single poker player who ever was has been affected by the phenomenon. It starts when you suffer a series of unexpected losses. You see your dwindling chips and your sudden loss of confidence, so you try to fake it. You bet and you bet and you bet, no matter how irrational those antes are. You lose and you lose and you lose. The panic grows with every hand you’re dealt. Your losses grind up your clarity and confidence like mincemeat, so good luck getting your stack back.

That tiny pile of chips you threw into the pot at the beginning of the game is now negligible in comparison to what you lose in the end: your entire stack. If you’re in an abusive relationship, full tilt will take your mental health, your stability, your friendships, and even your desire to live.

The only way to beat full tilt is to do the opposite of what your panicking brain is telling you to, so when you see the first few losses, leave. Leave before your panic ties you to the poker table. Leave when your life is still ticking along as it should. Leave now because the game you’re playing is more dangerous than you think, and you really don’t want to know how bad this can become.

Leave because you can; because you must; because he hasn't yet closed the door.