Seeing the Whole Story
Domestic violence rarely fits neatly into the picture we have in our minds. It can include physical violence, but it often involves coercive control, financial abuse, isolation, manipulation, fear, and the gradual loss of choices. For someone living through it, recognizing what is happening may be much more complicated than it appears from the outside.

In this month’s episode of My Voice, “Finding the Light: Aftermath, Education & Letting Go of Control,” that complexity comes through in a deeply personal conversation about domestic violence, parenting, shame, survival, accountability, and what happens in the aftermath. One important truth emerges: there may not be one obvious moment when a survivor recognizes, “This is domestic violence.” Sometimes, they are simply trying to solve the next problem, keep their children safe, preserve their family, and make it through the next crisis.
That perspective matters when we ask one of the most common questions about domestic violence: “Why didn’t they just leave?” Leaving can require housing, transportation, money, childcare, legal assistance, credit, and a support system—all things an abusive partner may have deliberately worked to limit. But there is another kind of complexity we don't always acknowledge: survivors rarely experience the person who has harmed them as a one-dimensional “bad guy.”
A person can cause real harm and still be someone a survivor has loved, built a life with, raised children with, or hoped would change. Recognizing humanity does not excuse abusive behavior or remove accountability for it. It does, however, help us better understand why a survivor's feelings and decisions may be complicated.
When we insist that someone who causes harm must be entirely monstrous, we can unintentionally create another barrier for survivors. A survivor who still loves their partner, remembers their good qualities, worries about what will happen to them, or hopes they will change may wonder whether their experience “counts” as abuse at all. They may fear that telling the truth means they must also adopt someone else's judgment about a person they know in a much more complicated way.
We can hold two truths at once: abusive behavior is harmful and must be taken seriously, and human beings are more complicated than a single label. We do not have to minimize harm to make room for complexity.
The same is true of survivors. Their decisions may not always make sense from the outside. They may leave, return, seek help, change their minds, set a boundary, or decide they are not ready. Support does not require us to make those decisions for them.
Instead, we can listen. We can believe them. We can help them understand their options. We can remind them that they and their children matter, that they deserve love and respect, and that support remains available as they decide what comes next.
Education helps us see beyond stereotypes. Listening helps us understand experiences that are not our own. And compassion allows us to hold complexity without losing sight of accountability, safety, or hope.
When we see the whole story, we are better prepared to recognize domestic violence—and better prepared to stand beside the people experiencing it.




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