I Lost My Best Friend to Domestic Abuse: Here’s What I Learned

Even when a person seems OK, you don’t know what they are battling at home.

The topic of domestic abuse is difficult to discuss for many of us. People often tend to avoid it, and not every victim is willing to talk. We don’t know what happens behind closed doors, but sadly, a significant number of people deal with abuse. It’s estimated that around 10 million people in the United States fall victim to domestic abuse each year — and that is only individuals who report it. But despite that, many of us shy away from bringing up the importance of preventing domestic abuse and helping victims.

I am fortunate enough not to have experienced intimate and domestic abuse so far in my life. Emotional one — maybe, but mildly. Having that said, I encountered someone who was in quite a bad abusive relationship, and there was almost nothing I could do for them. I ended up in the middle of it, and it cost me a loss of a friend — not literally, the guy is alive and all; however, the abuser has cut our friendship short.

This is a story of losing my best friend to domestic abuse and what I learned from this experience.

George has always looked sad and anxious. I know you shouldn’t judge people by their appearance or make assumptions without facts, but the moment I met him, I knew he was depressed. The guy looked perpetually stressed as if he was barely holding it together and a step away from a nervous breakdown.

Or maybe I’m exaggerating? Perhaps, he simply looked upset? A few months after starting to work with him, my suspicions were confirmed. Until then, I did my best to be nice to him and be another friendly face at work. If only I knew what would happen in the next six months.

“It’s called a major depressive disorder” — George messaged me on a Friday night when he decided to tell me what was happening with him.

What do you say to someone who tells you about their depression? Especially when you’ve been observing their behaviour for the last several months?

I’m not a psychiatrist, nor am I trying to pretend I am. I don’t particularly like watching people, I don’t jump to the conclusion there’s something wrong with them, and I certainly don’t try to “diagnose” them. Who am I to offer a diagnosis? Who would I offer it to? Why would I even bother worrying about individuals I’m not friends with yet? Well, that’s me: Joanna, nice to meet you. I don’t wish to stick my nose into anyone’s business, nor do I want to make conclusions about them. But for some reason, I feel people’s emotions and empathize with them.

I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe, I’m an empath, or possibly I feel the energy of others. But there is a much simpler explanation: I’m depressed too.

I was diagnosed with depression 6–7 years ago, and I’ve been on and off anti-depressants for 5 of those. I have anxiety, and I used to experience panic attacks too. Don’t miss the panic attacks even a little bit! Seriously, they aren’t fun at all.

Most and foremost, I wanted G to tell me he wasn’t abused, either emotionally or physically, after this.

I guess once you’ve been in depression for such a long time, you know the signs. And despite my best effort not to implant myself into anyone’s life, I subconsciously notice those signs and start acting extra nice towards people who seem to need help. I don’t even need them to befriend me: as long as I made their day 1% less stressful, it’s all I wanted.

G told me he was depressed. My response?

“I know how it is to struggle with mental health. I’ve been in depression for many years now. Please let me know if you want to talk about it. I may not know your story, but there’s a good chance I know how you feel.”

The next day, he asked me to have lunch together, and in one hour, we knew more about each other than some people know about their years-long friends.

G was indeed very much depressed.

It’s one thing to be diagnosed with depression and handle it to the best of your ability, especially if you’re lucky enough to have high-functioning depression. It’s a completely different thing to be depressed: feel depressed, act depressed, live life depressed. That’s what G was doing.

Depression doesn’t necessarily come from nowhere. There are many hypotheses as to where it comes from and what the cause might be. But quite often, there is a reason. G had a good one: he came from an abusive family.

He and I spent every lunch together talking about our past, present, and future. He told me about the physical abuse in his immediate family and how his father beat his mother. Without a doubt, it caused a life-long trauma that G acknowledged.

“It’s a lot, — he said. — it’s a horrible experience to watch your dad beat up your mom, and you standing there, realizing there’s nothing you can do. As a kid, it’s a lot to endure”.

I didn’t offer my opinion. I barely commented on those stories, as I didn’t want to sound incentive, judgmental, or negative. There’s a lot to be said about family abuse, and I didn’t want to make G feel bad. After all, it was in no way his fault. I just wished he found a way to move past this.

To this day, I still wonder if I did the right thing and whether I should have contacted the cops.

The guy was smart. He was well-educated in mental health and sought help a long time ago. His doctor was awful, though.

“I had so many appointments with the guy,” G. confessed. “I kept telling him I’m not doing well emotionally and mentally. That I needed help and support. Do you know what he told me? He said it’s all in my head. That he doesn’t believe in mental health, can you believe that?! He was a family doctor, a licensed physician whose only job was to treat people.”

I couldn’t imagine that. I was quite lucky, as my family doctor diagnosed my depression right away. But I’ve heard many stories of people who weren’t as fortunate as I was. Sadly, G was one of them.

G confessed to having suicidal thoughts at some point. I was certainly glad he didn’t act on them. But it was clear he was a disturbed person — not in a bad way, but in an upsetting, life-is-unfair way. The guy didn’t deserve to go through so much hardship.

“I went to my doctor and demanded anti-depressants,” said G when he was finishing his mental health story. “I almost threatened him. I told him people end their lives because they don’t get help, and he got scared. He finally gave me a prescription and signed my short-term leave of absence documents. He then called me to apologize for his behaviour.”

I told G his doctor probably wasn’t sorry; he just got scared he would get sued. Unfortunately, there are many doctors out there whose ignorance is beyond comprehension. Those doctors shouldn’t be allowed to practice medicine.

There we were, two people in depression, spending an hour each workday talking about ourselves, our struggles and our mental health issues. It helped both of us. We became increasingly close, and we were both happy to have each other.

Every person in depression needs a strong support system. I had mine, and it consisted of numerous people. Most importantly, the “quality” of those individuals was high. One of the reasons I’ve always been doing so well was because of my support system.

G had none or almost none. His parents knew about his mental issues, and they were there for him. But he didn’t have friends who would support him. In fact, he barely had friends in general — more like coworkers. I didn’t understand why, but after a while, it became clear: his girlfriend didn’t want him to have friends.

It’s not your job or your responsibility to “save” someone from abuse. People don’t need “saving” unless they explicitly ask for help.

Every time G wanted to go out, his girlfriend was against it. But every time she wished to socialize, G never restricted her and went out as much as she wanted. There was an old story of him cheating on her while they were apart or even broken up — I didn’t know the full story, so I’m not sure if cheating actually happened. But regardless of the details, it was clear to me that G’s girlfriend forbids him to see his friends, alienated some of them, and used the cheating or not-really-cheating story to control him.

The worst part was, she didn’t support him with his mental illness. On the contrary: according to G, she made it harder.

“She doesn’t understand mental illnesses, nor is she trying to understand,” G told me as we were walking by the pond. “I’ve been depressed for most of our relationship, but she never tried to learn about depression. She makes me feel guilty I have depression. She makes my anxiety worse because she starts fights and throws tantrums.”

What could I say to this? It wasn’t my business. Anyone, whose partner doesn’t validate their feelings, emotions, and especially health problems should re-evaluate their relationship. Someone whose partner is being emotionally abusive by manipulating them, starting fights to get a reaction, and especially prevents them from spending time with other people should probably run for the hills. But was it really my place to tell G his girlfriend is an abuser who makes his mental health worse?

The girlfriend was physically and financially abusive too.

Many people don’t recognize financial abuse. Toxic masculinity and other gender stereotypes dictate that it’s “normal” for the man to pay for everything, even if the initial plan for to have both individuals cover the bills.

G’s girlfriend would spend her salary on shopping and other stupid expenses, and then G would pay for their rent and additional mutual costs. The problem was, G didn’t have the money to pay for all that stuff. He started using loans and credit cards to do that, and his partner didn’t lift a finger to help him.

G ended up filing for bankruptcy because of that. Well, not exactly for bankruptcy — for a consumer proposal, which is one step down from bankruptcy, but almost as bad. Plot twist? G and I are bankers. We can’t get a job in our career field with a bad credit score, and G’s score was as low as Donald Trump’s morale. He hated the way our employer treated us, but he couldn’t leave. I made plans to move forward with another bank, but G couldn’t allow it to happen; no one else would hire him. Because of that, he was forced to stay at the job he hated, with lots of financial issues, a low credit score, and a partner who kept making it worse. Every week, if not every day, he told me how his girl keeps going out and spending money they don’t have or the money they should put towards paying off the debt. She just kept making it worse for them, while G’s mental health was deteriorating, in part because of all the finances-related stress.

Financial abuse is real. But the physical one was even worse.

She broke into his phone, snooped through his chats, looked up my number and contacted me behind his back.

One day G showed up to work distraught and extremely upset. As we went to the park for lunch, he told me he fought with his girlfriend, and it almost got physical. Apparently, she threw his expensive laptop at the wall and broke it. The computer helped G apply for promotions within our company, study, research mental health, and do many other things — as you know, the Internet can do wonders.

He told me about the fights they have and how physical force is sometimes being used. And then he opened up about instances when his girlfriend would beat him up.

“She used her fists more than once. She would sometimes leave me bleeding.”

As he said those words, my heart sank. I realized the broken laptop wasn’t the worst outcome — it could have been the man’s head which would have to be peeled off the wall.

G never called the cops. He never told his family. I don’t think he ever told too many friends, of any at all, except for me. I have always advocated about men being protected against violence — along with women, of course. But we don’t talk about male victims often enough. Sadly, G isn’t even the only male abuse victim I know. But his story was definitely the worst one I encountered in my life so far.

Ever since that day, I would always worry that the next time I see the guy, his face would be scratched, he would have bruises, or something worse. Every weekend I would take a moment and quickly pray that nothing bad was happening and that G’s girlfriend wouldn’t beat him up. I don’t think it was happening regularly, but I acknowledge how difficult it is for men to talk about being victimized. I don’t know if G told me everything. It’s not like I could ask him if he currently has bruises or anything else that resulted from the abuse.

All I could do was be there for him, tell him he shouldn’t feel like a victim, tell him he needs to focus on his mental health, and make his health a priority in general. I also said to the man he can always call me if something happens at home, that I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, and that I’m his friend.

Only once I suggested there is help for abuse victims. That there are ways the government protects them. G changed the topic very quickly, and I couldn’t forcibly push it on him. You can’t help the victim unless they want to be helped.

Sometimes I wonder if I should have abandoned my politically correct behaviour. Maybe I should have pushed? Perhaps I should have pressed him to seek help? Or at least to go to a therapist and talk about the abuse to develop better coping skills? We spoke about therapists many times, but G wasn’t seeing one during that particular time. He said he tried to take his girlfriend to a couple’s therapy, but it didn’t yield any results, and she refused to go.

I have to confess: had this been one of my female friends, I would have grabbed her arm, told her I would book her a hotel room for a few weeks, that I will come home with her when her partner isn’t there, help her pack her stuff and drive her to the hotel. I would help look for social services to find a place to stay. As she was at the police station, I would hold her hand had she ever decided to go.

But I didn’t offer the same thing to G. Was I discriminatory against G? Was I staying silent because he was male, not female? One of the reasons I didn’t push was because the guy was tall, wide-shouldered, and very strong. I couldn’t imagine him not protecting himself from a female who was half of his size. But then, what about violent behaviour his girlfriend could have resorted to? Did I fail him? Should I have acted differently and stuck my nose into someone else’s family because of the abuse?

The sad part is, G actually failed ME.

Time was flying by fast. G and I spent every lunch together, talking about our lives. He would never go out with his coworkers because of his partner, but at least he was my friend during the workday. I could be there for him, and he was there for me. But that’s until his girlfriend resorted to a new pattern of abusive behaviour.

They broke up briefly. I wasn’t happy, nor was I sad about it. On the one hand, breaking up with an abuser is a celebratory milestone. On the other hand, they were together for 15 years, on and off, and such a huge heartbreak could take an enormous toll on one’s mental health. I was worried for G. He once told me he started thinking about suicide, and his girlfriend didn’t do anything about it, so he had to take time off work and get treatment. I had no idea what the break-up would bring.

They reconnected fast, though. I don’t know if the Stockholm syndrome has anything to do with it, or maybe some people are just meant to be together, abuse or not. G was the one who initiated the break-up after another physical fight, but his girlfriend bombarded him with messages and texts. She promised to get better, learn about depression, do couple’s therapy, go to a therapist independently, take anger-management classes, and much more. He got back together with her.

According to G, we were friends for six more months, and in that time, she hasn’t done any of the things she promised. She did, however, found a way to direct her abusive behaviour towards me.

I had a depressive episode around a year ago. It was the third one in a span of 7 years, and even though I did a good job handling it, I’ve been experiencing hardship for a few months. I made sure not to interact with my friends for a bit, letting them know what’s happening. But the moment I felt good enough to socialize again, I reached out to them.

G knew what was happening from the very beginning, and he tried to support me. I took time off from work to take care of myself, so we couldn’t drive to the park during lunch and talk about our health. I drove to work a few times, and we saw each other, but that was it. Unfortunately, he didn’t make much effort to see me outside of work — in fact, not even once we did that.

Your only obligation is to yourself, your safety, and your mental health.

I was getting used to my new anti-depressants, and it was quite a journey. For several weeks, I felt nauseous, weak, sleepy, and almost fainted several times. Naturally, I couldn’t drive. I asked G if he would be OK driving by my home after work to get coffee and go to the park. I wanted to hear how he’s doing, but I also needed his moral support, especially since his mental health experience was much more extensive compared to mine. I needed some guidance, but I also needed a friend.

G agreed to see me one day after work. Then, in a few hours, he asked if I could drive to the office instead, to which I told him I couldn’t drive due to the side effects of my medication. He said he understood and told me he would see me soon. In two more hours, he texted me saying he couldn’t come. Apparently, he asked his girlfriend for permission, and she insisted he couldn’t see me.

Let’s take a moment to comprehend the fact that a 35-year-old man had to ask his partner for “permission” to see a friend after work. Let’s take another moment to recall all the other abuse G has experienced and add a physical — not just emotional — control to the list.

I wasn’t surprised to hear this. I think I expected it to play out this way, considering how my interactions with G were. But what could I have said? It wasn’t my place to tell him he’s being abused. First and foremost, G knew his girlfriend is an abuser, as he said it multiple times himself — and he was OK with it, despite the recent attempt to end it. Secondly, the man chose to stay many times. And again, it wasn’t my place to try “saving” someone who clearly didn’t want to be saved. Finally, I wasn’t in the right mental space to jump into a serious conversation about the abuse.

All I could do was pretend I understand and let it go. Sadly, someone else couldn’t let it go.

I was lying in bed watching Netflix when I received a text from an unknown number. It was around 1 pm on a workday, and the text read the following:

“This is Candice, G’s fiancé. How dare you invite someone else’s future husband to your place? How dare you try to get with someone who’s almost married? How could you talk about porn with my fiancé? How would you feel if another girl did the same thing to the guy you were about to marry?”

I froze for a second in disbelief. Then I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my anxiety, and tried to analyze the situation.

I know for sure I didn’t give C, who was G’s girlfriend, my number. Girlfriend or fiancé — it didn’t matter, as G always referred to her as his girlfriend, and he only recently mentioned they have been engaged for a year or so. For the longest time, he didn’t even mention having a girlfriend to his work friends at all, and it was a recent development to many of them. But for the purposes of this article, I’ll keep referring to C as “the girlfriend” — despite her constant emphasis in this text that G is her almost-husband.

I walked away the moment the situation became unsafe. I know for sure I have a saviour complex, but that time I suppressed it.

I didn’t give her my number. I also didn’t figure out right away what porn she was referring to. It took me a hot second to realize it was a porn-related joke G and I had a few weeks ago. It was totally innocent, and he didn’t have an issue talking about it. He even educated me, so to speak, about something related to the sex work industry. There was absolutely nothing inappropriate; the conversation didn’t have a double meaning.

But how did C know about it, and how did she get this number? It was quite obvious: either she started a scandal with G and demanded he gave her my contact information, as well as showed her all the conversations we were having; or she broke into his phone, snooped through his chats, looked up my number, and contacted me behind his back. Since G never messaged me, saying his girlfriend wants to talk to me and considering her abusive tendencies, it was most likely the second option.

First, I considered ignoring her text. After all, I didn’t do anything wrong, and the poor girl didn’t get any of it right — in fact, nothing she said made any sense. But then, I considered G’s well-being. What would happen if I didn’t reply? C would have probably thought I got scared and have nothing to say, and therefore, she could have thrown a nuclear tamper tantrum and hurt G even more. G already told me about so many times she hit him, and considering the laptop incident, the woman was clearly mentally ill and required serious help. G was also not doing great with his mental health, so what kind of backlash would I cause if I had ignored her and didn’t try to calm her down?

This situation wasn’t good for my mental health either. But I always think about others, not just myself. So, I took another deep breath and sent the following:

“Hello, C. I wonder where you got my number from? I never invited your fiancé to my place, only to a park for an hour. You know that we do that during work, it wouldn’t be any different. The porn thing was a joke; there was nothing inappropriate. Sorry if this caused a misunderstanding. To be honest, I’ve always been OK with my partners seeing their friends after work; it doesn’t matter what their gender is. Jokes here and there are fine too, even if they are about porn, as they’re harmless.”

I tried to word it as politely as possible, so C wouldn’t think I’m trying to say I’m better than her. The girl is incredibly insecure, which G always mentioned to me, and she alienated many of his friends — even male ones. I’m not sure what the underlying circumstances were, but it’s like his girlfriend wanted to have all his attention and didn’t want him to share it with others. But regardless of the reasoning, I couldn’t be surprised about how this story unfolded.

I received a reply right away:

“He gave me your number, obviously. Thanks for the apology. I’m not going to entertain this anymore.”

I rolled my eyes. She was most likely lying, as G would have told me if he gave her my number. Also, the girl was definitely trying to establish dominance over me, as if she wasn’t the one who started this nonsense, broke into her boyfriend’s phone, maniacally went through his private conversations, stole my phone number, and contacted me without my consent. Frankly speaking, that constituted abusive behaviour, but this time it wasn’t towards G, but towards me. I collected my patience piece by piece, reminded myself I’m a nice person, and sent a polite yet firm reply:

“There was no reason to entertain this in the first place. Have a nice day.”

She never replied, and I didn’t expect her to. I went back to watching Netflix to distract myself and then texted G the following:

“Hey, your girl just texted me out of the blue. Did she break into your phone? Are you OK? Are you safe?”

He didn’t reply for almost a week, and I got more worried every day. After several days, I messaged him again, asking if he was OK. Nothing in return — crickets. I contemplated calling the police and telling them there might be a potential beating happening at his home, but I stopped myself. I didn’t have any proof, and I wasn’t sure if I should assume any more abuse. Maybe they just had a huge fight, and that’s it? But what if not?

A few days after the text from C, another friend from work told me something about the office, and he mentioned how G was involved in some work activity.

“He’s alive! He’s OK!” I assumed, without mentioning anything to that friend. “If he’s at work and no one noticed a limp, or bruises, or his weird behaviour, it should be OK. Somewhat…”

To this day, I still wonder if I did the right thing and whether I should have contacted the cops. I didn’t even have his home address, so I wasn’t even sure where to direct them…

G replied eventually.

I was almost panicking by the time he finally replied, saying:

“Hi. Yes, this is what happened. How are you doing?”

That was it.

There was no reply regarding his well-being, which was my number one concern.

There was no answer to how this situation unfolded; what did his girlfriend end up doing if they fought, and was he hurt? To this day, I don’t know the answer to these questions because when I messaged him again, saying it’s horrible, his privacy was violated and asking what he did about it. All the guy said was:

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

That’s it. His resolution to this incident was to hide his head in the sand, pretend nothing happened, and avoid any responsibility.

I didn’t “want” a lot. All I wanted for him to tell me he’s OK, both mentally and physically, and he dealt with this conflict: either talked to C or resolved the issue or at least told her not to break into his phone and harass his friends. And, most and foremost, I wanted G to tell me he wasn’t abused, either emotionally or physically, after this.

But he didn’t say anything. He ignored the next message I sent him and another one I messaged a month later asking what he would like for his birthday. I messaged him a month from that date, wishing him a happy birthday, and he finally responded a few weeks later, thanking me but saying nothing else.

Shortly after, I returned to work. And I messaged him the same week I did.

My conversation with G didn’t go too far. I messaged saying I’m back and then asked what happened with Telegram. He knew I was asking why he’s been ignoring me. All he said was:

“I stopped replying to people, but the messages are always in the back of my mind.”

I then told him I understand, and since he didn’t deal with C, we don’t have to be friends anymore. I informed him there are no hard feelings that I understand — even though I didn’t, or that my understanding was the fact that the guy is constantly manipulated, controlled, and abused. He’s not doing anything to change the situation.

“I’m totally fine being work friends, and it doesn’t affect our job in any way,” I said, attempting to be politically correct.

“I want to stay friends though,” G replied.

I comprehended telling him how I feel about him being a coward, not manning up to what happened recently, and choosing to stay abused. But, of course, I didn’t. Simply because I’m not in the business of hurting others’ feelings, even if they acted indecently towards me. And also, because we were in the middle of a pandemic, and the guy’s mental state was pretty bad even before that.

Life is short. Run away from the abusers.

“I don’t think that’s going to work. We work from home now; it will stay this way for a while. You and I will soon move on to other jobs, which means we won’t be working together. If we stay “friends,” it would be a fake friendship, as I won’t be seeing you. I can’t be friends with someone I don’t ever see in real life and only message with once a week.”

He didn’t respond. It was a new trend in his behaviour: ignoring messages. The man has shown me many times how nice and mature he is. Frankly speaking, he was one of the most mature people I have ever met. But, obviously, either he wasn’t, and I made the wrong conclusions about G’s character, or maybe I’ve never met mature enough individuals.

G has been avoiding me for the next few months, which was weird, but also funny. We are supposed to have a meeting every Friday, but he would never show up. Every time we had an unexpected meeting where everyone was supposed to join, he would either go offline or wouldn’t join, despite the instructions to do so. Then, at some point, he stopped doing that. Shortly after, he messaged me asking about work.

The conversation was polite and nothing else — at least from my end. The guy told me personal things about how his life is during covid, and I shared a few small things out of politeness. We talked about work. We didn’t speak for too long.

It’s been a year since I returned to work. In the span of 12 months, all the interactions we had were:

• Two short chats about work.
• One mutual meeting when I said something, and he continued the topic.

I haven’t heard the guy talk for almost a year at this point. I don’t have any motivation to do so. Our mutual friends tried to plan a few outings, but once G realized I’d be present, he would suddenly say he couldn’t come. It was clear he was prohibited from seeing me. It was even more clear he was OK with it and that he never cared about our friendship ever enough to change anything.

I wasn’t hurt about what happened. I may have been sad for a few days, but that was it. On some level, I’ve always known this would be the outcome of this friendship. There was no other way, really — I’m assuming it’s rarely different with abuse victims.

Would I consider being friends with G if anything changes? Most likely not. If he puts his foot down and tells his girlfriend he will see me regardless of what she says; I still would not see him. Even if they break up and he runs to me for support, I don’t want to rekindle. I’m too nice of a person and too good of a friend to be with when it suits you or when someone else “allows” you to. I’m a very forgiving person, and I believe in second chances, but I choose to be with those who value me. You don’t get to be my friend again after clearly not caring about me at all.

If G were to call me in the middle of the night saying something happened and asking for help, I would probably help him that one time. However, once I confirm he’s alive and OK, it ends there.

What did I learn from being friends — or more like fake friends — with a domestic abuse victim and losing that person to the abuser? Here’s the list:

• Men can be victims too, and they quite often are.
• Even mature and smart grown-ups can become victims.
• Even someone who is well-versed in mental health, human behaviour, and other important aspects of life can become a victim.
• Abuse has many shapes and forms. It’s not just physical abuse, but an emotional one as well.
• Manipulation constitutes emotional abuse.
• Constant attempts to control someone are also a form of emotional abuse.
• If someone is trying to isolate you from others, it’s a huge red flag potentially indicating abuse.
• Financial abuse is a thing as well, especially when it nearly leads someone to bankruptcy.
• It’s not your job or your responsibility to “save” someone from abuse. People don’t need “saving” unless they explicitly ask for help and preferably involve social services and/or police. You can’t “save” someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
• Abuse victims can have high-functioning, successful lives. And only behind the curtains, where no one is watching, numerous ugly abusive acts are happening.
• Abusers’ behaviour is often obvious, yet the victim knows about being abused and chooses to be that way.
• Abusers often use a mistake their victim made in the past to manipulate them by constantly reminding and making them feel guilty, hence agreeing to do what the abuser tells them to do.
• Abusers often have an excuse why they are this way. C had a sob story too.
• Abusers are usually smart, and they know they are abusive.
• Abusers rarely try to change their ways. They are happy the way they are and have no motivation to change anything or get treatment.
• Abusers often project their abuse on other people surrounding them, in particular the victim’s social circle.
• The family of the victim may or may not know what’s happening. Even if they know, they don’t always recognize the abuse or try to “save” their child.
• There’s nothing you can do if the victim is fine where they are. The best advice is: try to offer support, let the victim know help is available from numerous sources, don’t try to push or save them, and recognize the victim’s acceptance of their situation.
• If you become a victim of any sort of abuse in this case, such as when the abuser is trying to affect you — put a stop to it. Cease contact with the victim if you need to.
• Your only obligation is to yourself, your safety, and your mental health. Being affected by someone else’s abuse constitutes an unsafe situation. You need to cease contact and run for the hills.
• Stay away, if you can. Encountering a victim is sad and heartbreaking, but you can’t change their state of mind. Take care of yourself. If the victim ever decides they want to stop being victimized and decide to take care of themselves — they will do it.

I wasn’t “saving” G. I walked away the moment the situation became unsafe. I know for sure I have a saviour complex, but that time I suppressed it. I walked away, and to this day, it was one of the best and smartest decisions I’ve made in my life.

I’m ready to move mountains for my friends and family. But my obligation is first and foremost to myself. I refuse to damage my mental health or, even worse, become a victim myself because someone who I considered a friend decided he’s OK being abused.

Life is short. Run away from the abusers.