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There's a space that doesn't get talked about very often. It's that space where you see what's happening, but you haven't left. Where something in you knows this isn't right, but you're still there. Where you're not in denial anymore, but you're not fully out either. That in-between space can feel incredibly confusing because from the outside, it looks like nothing is changing. But on the inside, you know that everything is shifting. Hi, I'm Lisa, and this is Pattern Breakers Collective. Today I have a little bit of a cold, so you're gonna have to bear with my scratchy voice. But before we go any deeper, I want to say something quickly because you'll hear me use he when talking about abusive dynamics a lot. That's based on the statistics and patterns I've worked in for years, but I want to recognize that abuse is not limited to one gender. Anyone can be harmed and anyone can cause harm. In this space, I speak from what I know, but this conversation is for anyone who sees themselves in it. If you're in that in-between right now, where part of you is clear and another part of you is still attached, where you've thought about leaving maybe hundreds of times, but haven't actually done it yet, this episode is for you. Because this is the part that gets misunderstood the most. People often assume that once you see the pattern, you're gonna leave, that awareness should immediately lead to action. But what they don't see is everything happening underneath that decision, the attachment, the fear, the history, the way your nervous system has adapted to the relationship. So in this episode, we're gonna talk about that in-between space. We're gonna talk about why you can see something so clearly and still feel stuck. What's actually happening inside of your mind and body during that phase, and why leaving doesn't always feel like a relief. And what begins to shift even before anything changes on the outside. Because if you're here, you're not behind, you're not weak, you're in the middle of something that's already changing, even if it doesn't look like it yet. Not the empowering breakup speech, not the singing in the shower, I will survive. Not that I pack my bags and never look back moment. I want to start in the quiet middle, the space where most women actually live for quite a while. You're aware, you see the pattern, you recognize the cycle, you can name the red flags now, but you're not ready to blow up your entire life. You're not ready to dismantle your home or tell your family or explain it to your kids or deal with his reaction or start over financially. And maybe if we're being truly honest, part of you still loves him. But that's the space that we're talking about today, because I think sometimes the messaging around leaving abusive relationships accidentally creates more pressure than support. It can start to sound like, well, if you know better, you should do better. If you're empowered, you'll walk away. Or if you understand trauma bonds, you wouldn't stay. And that's not how this works. Awareness doesn't instantly erase attachment, and clarity doesn't automatically mean readiness. There's a face that doesn't get enough airtime, and that's that in-between where you're watching, you're evaluating, you're getting stronger quietly, where you're trying to figure out what's real. I have sat with so many women in this exact space where they'll say things like, I'm not ready to leave, but I can't unsee it anymore, or I don't know what I'm gonna do yet. I just can't go on feeling like this. Or even, I'm just trying to gather myself. That right there, that gathering, that's not weakness. It's preparation. And one of the things I want to dismantle here is the idea that preparing yourself means you've already made a final decision. Sometimes women feel guilty even thinking about making backup plans. They'll say, well, it feels sneaky, or I feel dishonest, or if I'm still here, shouldn't I be fully committed? No. Preparation is not betrayal. Preparation is protection. If you are in a relationship where there has been emotional abuse, coercive control, volatility, intimidation, you are allowed to think strategically about your own safety. You are allowed to gather information quietly. You are allowed to ask yourself hard questions without announcing them. That doesn't make you deceptive. It makes you wise. And I say that not just from professional experience, but from lived experience. There were moments in my own life where I knew something wasn't right long before I knew what I was gonna do about it. And in those moments, what I needed most wasn't pressure. It was space, space to think, space to feel, space to strengthen. That's what this episode is about. Not forcing a decision, strengthening you. If you're in this in-between space, it probably feels like a tug of war inside of your own body. One day you feel strong, clear, certain. The next day you feel pulled back, softened by his apology, confused by his tenderness, afraid of making the wrong decision. That fluctuation is normal. When you're still inside the dynamic, or even newly outside of it, your nervous system hasn't stabilized yet. So clarity can come in waves. And that doesn't mean that you're back at zero. It means you're human. There's this idea that one day you're just gonna wake up and know, that you're just gonna feel fearless, certain, completely detached, unemotional, and then you're just gonna leave. For most women, that is not how it happens. Often what changes isn't fearlessness, it's tolerance. You don't suddenly feel brave. You just realize that you cannot tolerate the pattern any longer. You stop asking, can he change? And you start asking, can I live like this long term? That shift is subtle, but it's powerful, and it happens in that in-between space. Something else happens during this phase that you begin watching differently. You're no longer trying to convince yourself everything is fine. You start observing, you're noticing the patterns, you're clocking his reactions, you're seeing repetition, you're not confronting him every time, you're not escalating every time, you're just gathering the data. That observational stance is a sign that the dynamic has changed inside of you. You're not fully inside the cycle. You're starting to step outside of it, even if you're still physically there. This in-between phase matters because rushing outside of it can be incredibly destabilizing. If you leave before you've balanced internally, that withdrawal is gonna pull you back. If you leave without preparing, panic is gonna override all that clarity. If you leave without support, isolation is gonna make the bond feel stronger again. So the preparation, the emotional and the practical part of it, it reduces that whiplash, which in turn is gonna protect you. So if you're not ready to leave yet, that doesn't mean you're failing. If you are still loving him, that does not mean you're naive. And if you are gathering information quietly, that does not mean you are dishonest. It means you are thinking, which is powerful. We're not trying to push you out the door here. We're trying to strengthen your footing wherever you are, because when women feel stronger, clearer, and more stable, their decisions become grounded, and grounded decisions last. So if you're in that in-between space, watching, thinking, strengthening quietly, the next layer isn't about logistics quite yet. It's about you. Because before anyone packs a bag or changes an address, something internal has to shift first. And that shift is that emotional preparation, not hype, not confidence, not sudden empowerment. You need to stabilize first. So in abusive dynamics, one of the first things to erode is your self-trust. You start questioning your instincts, you second guess your reactions, you dismiss your own discomfort, you tell yourself maybe I'm overreacting, maybe I misunderstood, maybe I'm too sensitive. And when that happens long enough, you stop listening to yourself altogether. So emotional preparation often begins with something incredibly simple. When something feels off, you pause. Instead of explaining it away, you acknowledge it. You say to yourself, that didn't feel good. That's it. You don't have to escalate it, you don't have to confront it, you don't have to make a decision about it, you just stop arguing with your own nervous system. That moment when you validate yourself instead of dismiss yourself is so powerful because self-trust doesn't come back all at once. It returns in small acts of internal honesty. And the more you practice that, the stronger you feel inside of your own body. And then something else begins to happen. You notice how often you've been overriding yourself, how often you've been minimizing, justifying, excusing. You start catching it in real time. You hear yourself say, oh, he's just stressed. And then you notice the tightening in your chest. You say, Oh, it's not that bad. And then you feel your stomach drop. That awareness of your reactions, it can feel unsettling at first. Because once you see it, it's hard to go back pretending that you don't. But this part of the emotional preparation, you're no longer gaslighting yourself. You're finally allowing yourself to be honest internally. Here's where it gets a little heavier, though. There's usually a moment in this process where the hope starts to shift, not disappear completely, but it just shifts. Instead of thinking, if I just communicate better, or if I'm more patient, or if we just get through this season, you begin thinking, what if this is just who he is? That thought feels pretty devastating because hope is what often kept you steady for so long. And releasing that hope, even partially, feels like grief. And this is where that emotional preparation needs to deepen. It's not about convincing yourself that he will never change, it's about accepting that you cannot make him. And those are two very different things. When you stop carrying responsibility for his growth, a weight is lifted from your own load. You begin reclaiming your energy, you stop investing in potential and start observing patterns. And once you stop believing that you are the solution to his behavior, your role in the relationship changes. You may stop trying to fix every argument, you may stop over-explaining, you may stop pleading for understanding, you may stop performing calm just to keep the peace. You begin conserving your emotional energy, not dramatically, not coldly, just quietly. You respond instead of react. You disengage sooner, you protect your peace more often. That conservation is not detachment from caring, it is detachment from chaos. And that's emotional strength growing. So now let's talk about something that might not get enough attention. If your nervous system is constantly activated, anxious, hyper-vigilant, scanning, it is incredibly difficult to make grounded decisions. So part of emotional preparation is learning how to stabilize yourself, even while still in the relationship. That might mean stepping away from arguments sooner, spending time outside of the house, sleeping consistently, eating regularly, getting outside, talking to someone safe. You are teaching your body what calm feels like without him being the source of it. And that matters because when your nervous system becomes less dependent on the cycle for regulation, the trauma bond weakens. You begin realizing I can feel okay without the reconciliation. And that realization changes everything. Because at some point, you may begin asking yourself, what would have to happen for me to leave? Not in a dramatic way, not as a threat, not as an ultimatum, but honestly, you might discover that you've been moving the line over and over. Things you once said were unacceptable have become tolerated. And part of strengthening is resetting your line internally, not announcing it, not testing it, just knowing it. And when you know your line, you stop negotiating with yourself. You stop saying maybe it's not that bad because you've already decided what is too much. That clarity doesn't force action, but it makes action possible. So here's what often happens before someone leaves. They stop arguing for the relationship in their own head. They stop defending him when he's not even there. They stop fantasizing about the perfect apology. They stop picturing the quote-unquote fixed version of him. And instead, they begin picturing peace. Not fireworks, not intensity, just peace. When peace becomes more attractive than passion, something inside of you has changed. And that change doesn't have to be loud, but it is foundational. Something shifts again. You're not just surviving day to day anymore, you're thinking ahead. And this is where we move into something that can feel uncomfortable at first. It's the practical preparation. Not leaving, not announcing, not confronting, just preparing. And I want to say this gently and clearly: preparation is not paranoia. It is not betrayal. It is not overreacting. Preparation is what grounded women do when they are thinking clearly. One of the most important things to understand, and this is hard to say out loud, is that leaving can be the most dangerous time in an abusive relationship. When control is threatened, escalation can happen. That doesn't mean you shouldn't leave. It means you shouldn't rush. It means you move thoughtfully. So practical preparation isn't about drama. It is about reducing risk. It is about increasing your options. And having options changes your nervous system, even if you never use them. So let's start somewhere that doesn't feel quite as emotional, money. Not in the dramatic way, just in an awareness way. Many women don't actually know the full picture of their financial situation. They may not know how much is in the accounts, whose name is on what, what their credit looks like, what bills are being paid. And sometimes that's because control has slowly been centralized. Other times it's just how the relationship evolved. But practical preparation begins with information, not just going and transferring all the money, not hiding money, not escalating anything, just knowing. Knowing what exists, knowing what access you have, knowing what you would need. That knowledge alone reduces the panic because panic often comes from uncertainty. Here's another layer. If you needed your identification tomorrow, would you know where it is? If you needed to access medical records, birth certificates, passports, could you reach them easily? You don't have to pack a bag tonight. You don't have to go and make copies in secret, but sometimes simply organizing your life in a way that centers you is empowering. Taking photos of documents, storing information somewhere safe, memorizing a number you've always relied on in your phone to hold. This isn't about expecting disaster, but it's about knowing that you are not helpless. And when women feel less helpless, they think more clearly. And we need to talk about digital awareness. So in relationships involving control, technology can become part of the dynamic. Location sharing, shared passwords, device monitoring, access to accounts. Preparation might simply mean reviewing what you've shared, not dramatically shutting everything down, just becoming aware. Are there apps connected? Are there trackers? Are there passwords that need updating eventually? This is not about secrecy, it's about autonomy. And autonomy rebuilds confidence. And one of the most powerful shifts in practical preparation is support mapping. Not announcing that you're leaving to everyone, not telling everyone your plan, just asking yourself, who feels safe? Who would believe me? Who could hold this information confidentially? Sometimes the answer is a friend, sometimes it's a family member, sometimes it's a therapist, sometimes it's an advocate, sometimes it's someone you haven't spoken to in a long time. You don't have to tell them everything, but knowing you're not alone in your thinking changes something in your body. Isolation strengthens trauma bonds. Connection weakens them. Now, this part can feel heavy, but it's important. If you had to leave quickly, not because you wanted to, but because you needed to, where would you go? Non-panic, just hypothetically. Would it be a friend's house, a hotel, family, a shelter? You don't have to decide today, but asking yourself the question makes your brain less reactive. Because when something is unthinkable, it creates fear. And when something is imaginable, it creates planning. And planning creates calm. Another thing I gently talk through with women is timing because this is important. When is he the most regulated? When is he least volatile? When are arguments more likely? When is he away from home? Not to manipulate, not to live in fear, but to understand patterns. Patterns that once made you anxious can now become information. Information creates strategy, strategy creates safety. So now that we laid this all out, here's what happens when women begin preparing quietly. Their posture changes, their tone shifts, their panic decreases, because even if they haven't made a decision yet, they no longer feel trapped. They feel thoughtful, intentional, grounded. Preparedness is powerful. And sometimes that preparedness also changes the dynamic. Not because you threaten to leave, but because you stop feeling like you can't. I want to be clear about something. Preparing does not obligate you to act immediately. You are not committing to leaving just because you're organizing your life. You are not betraying him because you're thinking strategically. You are taking care of yourself. And that is not wrong. Even in healthy relationships, women should know their finances, have access to documents, understand their digital privacy, and maintain support systems. Preparation is not an accusation, it is autonomy. And here's the interesting thing: when you start doing this practically, something emotional shifts too. You feel less desperate for his change, less dependent on his apology, less afraid of his escalation, because you know even quietly that you have options, and options reduce fear. And when fear reduces, clarity increases. And that has nothing to do with documents or money or timing. It has to do with you. Because leaving, when and if you do, is not just about exiting a relationship. It's about stepping back into yourself. And that part doesn't start after you leave. It starts before. One of the most common things I hear from women in controlling or abusive relationships is this I don't feel like myself anymore. Sometimes they can't even articulate what changed. They just know something feels muted. Their laugh is quieter, their opinions are softer, their social world is smaller, their interests are narrower, they don't dress the same, they don't speak as freely, they don't challenge things the way they used to. It didn't happen overnight. It happened slowly. The little concessions, the little accommodations, the little silences. And one day you realize. That the version of you that existed before the relationship feels far, far away. Reclaiming yourself is not about suddenly becoming bold and unafraid. It's about remembering who you were before you started shrinking. Sometimes I'll ask women the question: who were you before this relationship? And there's usually a really long pause because that version feels blurry. But if you sit with it long enough, you might remember. You might remember the hobbies you stopped doing, the friends you drifted from, the dreams you shelved, parts of your personality that felt too big or too inconvenient. Reclaiming yourself can begin very quietly. You could start by listening to music you loved, reaching out to someone you lost touch with, doing something that once made you feel alive, even if it's small. These aren't big dramatic acts of rebellion. They're reconnections. And every reconnection with yourself strengthens you internally. One of the most powerful shifts that happens before someone leaves is this. They start making small decisions that are entirely their own. Nothing explosive, nothing confrontational, just small acts of autonomy. Choosing how to spend an afternoon, saying no to something without over-explaining, setting a boundary without justifying it endlessly, keeping a thought to themselves instead of seeking approval. Every small decision that centers you rebuilds self-trust. And self-trust is the foundation of leaving safely because leaving requires believing that you can handle whatever comes next. And that belief doesn't come from pep talks, it comes from practice. Earlier, we talked about how many women take on the role of fixer in these relationships, the one who calms them down, the one who explains things better, the one who believes in his potential, the one who holds the emotional weight. There's often a moment in this process where that energy shifts. Instead of asking, how do I get him to understand? You begin asking, What do I need? Instead of scanning his mood, you scan your own. Instead of trying to repair every rupture, you conserve your energy. That shift doesn't need to look dramatic. It often looks like a quiet detachment from chaos. You stop overfunctioning. And when you stop over-functioning, you start to strengthen. And another thing that happens before leaving is you start imagining yourself as capable, not fearless, not unbothered, not immune to grief, just capable, capable of surviving discomfort, capable of rebuilding, capable of standing on your own two feet. For a long time, the relationship may have convinced you subtly or directly that you couldn't, that you were too emotional, too dependent, too fragile, too impractical. Reclaiming yourself means questioning those narratives. It means asking who benefits from me believing that I cannot do this? More often than not, the answer isn't you. And the more you begin seeing yourself as capable, the less terrifying the unknown becomes. And there's another very specific shift that happens internally before someone leaves. It's not anger, it's not rage, it's not even necessarily confidence. It's this you start craving peace more than you crave intensity. The arguments feel exhausting instead of engaging. The reconciliations feel predictable instead of magical. The chaos feels draining instead of passionate. Peace becomes attractive, not because it's flashy, but because you're just plain tired. And that tiredness is wisdom. When peace becomes the goal, the decisions begin aligning naturally. I want to challenge something here. You don't want to wait to rebuild after you leave. You begin rebuilding before. If you wait until after you leave to rediscover yourself, the emotional crash can feel overwhelming. But if you begin reclaiming yourself while you're still in that in-between space, the transition becomes steadier. You're not leaping into the unknown, you're stepping towards something that you've already been nurturing. A stronger, more clear version of yourself, a more stable one. That version doesn't appear overnight. She emerges gradually and you're already becoming her. So if you're listening and thinking, I don't even know who I am anymore, maybe you don't even remember who you were previous to this relationship, that's okay. Start small. Start with noticing what feels good, what feels grounding, what feels authentic to you. You don't have to reinvent yourself. You just have to stop abandoning yourself. And every time you choose yourself, even quietly, the bond loosens a little more because trauma bonds thrive on self-abandonment and they weaken in the presence of self-loyalty. So if something has been shifting inside you, if you're seeing things more clearly, if you're noticing yourself responding differently, at some point a question naturally starts to surface. Not loudly, not urgently, but quietly. How will I know when it's time? And I want to answer that in a way that feels real, not idealized, not oversimplified, not based on what it should look like, but what it actually tends to feel like. A lot of women think they'll know it's time when they feel completely ready, that they'll wake up one day and feel certain, fearless, detached, clear in a way that doesn't waver. But for most women, that moment doesn't come. You may still feel love. You may still miss parts of him, and you may still grieve what you hoped the relationship would become. Leaving is rarely driven by the absence of love. It is usually driven by something else. You stop asking, can he change? Will this get better? What if this is the last time? And you start asking something different. Can I live like this long term? Not in a dramatic way, but in a grounded, real life way. Can I wake up like this every day? Can I keep managing this emotionally? Can my body keep holding this level of tension? Can I keep being this version of myself? You stop craving the highs. The reconciliation doesn't feel magical anymore. The apologies don't land the same way. The intensity doesn't feel like connection. It starts to feel exhausting. And instead of chasing the good moments, you start craving something simpler: the peace, not the excitement, not the passion, not the intensity, just peace. A calm nervous system, a steady environment, a sense of ease in your own body. And when peace becomes more important than the relationship and self, something inside of you has already changed. There's also a moment, and it's usually very quiet, where you stop debating yourself. For a long time, you may have been going back and forth internally. It wasn't that bad. He didn't mean it. I could have handled that differently. Maybe I'm overreacting. And then one day, you just stop. Not because you're angry, not because you're trying to convince yourself, but because you don't have the energy to keep rewriting the story anymore. You see it and you let it be what it is. A lot of women think that when they leave, they're no longer afraid. But what I've seen is and what I've lived is that fear doesn't disappear. It just shifts. You're still afraid of starting over. You're still afraid of the unknown. You're still afraid of what comes next. But something else becomes heavier. The thought of staying. The idea of continuing in the same pattern feels more suffocating than the idea of change. And that is the tipping point. Not when the fear is gone, but when something inside of you becomes stronger than that. Another sign that it's time doesn't look dramatic at all. It looks steady. You're not leaving in the middle of a fight. You're not leaving in a spike of emotion. You're not reacting. You're deciding. You've thought about it. You've felt through it. You've seen enough. And your body feels different. Not calm in a this is an easy kind of way, but grounded in a this is real kind of way. That kind of decision carries weight and it holds. Readiness is not about a perfect feeling. It's not certainty without doubt. It's not confidence without fear. It's alignment. It's when what you see, what you feel, and what you know stop fighting each other. You're still gonna grieve, you're still gonna question things and moments, and you're still gonna get emotional. But underneath all of that, there's a steadiness, a knowing, and that knowing doesn't need permission. And if you're listening to this and you're thinking, I'm not there, that's okay. You don't force readiness, you build it through self-trust, through awareness, through preparation, through stabilizing yourself, through choosing yourself in small ways over and over again. And as you do that, the decision becomes clearer, not because you pushed it, but because you grew into it. Before we close, I need to say something that matters. Everything we've talked about today, preparation, clarity, emotional shifts, assumes that you have space to move slowly. But if there is physical violence happening, this changes the conversation. If he has hit you, if he has strangled you, if he has blocked your ability to leave a room, if he has threatened you, your children, or himself, if you feel physically afraid of what he might do, then safety becomes the priority. Not timing, not emotional readiness, not doing it perfectly, safety. Because statistically, the period of leaving can be the most dangerous. That doesn't mean you should leave run out the door right now. It means you shouldn't do it alone and you shouldn't do it without a plan. That plan might include reaching out confidentially to an advocate. It might mean contacting a domestic violence hotline from a safe device. You need to identify a safe place where you can go, creating a code word with someone you can trust, leaving at a time that reduces risk or avoiding confrontation about leaving. And if strangulation has ever occurred even once, that is a serious escalation indicator. That is not just physical abuse, that is life-threatening risk, and it requires professional safety planning. If you are in immediate danger, emergency services exist for a reason and there is no shame in using them. Please, please do so. And now I want to bring this back to something steady. Wherever you are in this process, whether you are just beginning to see the pattern, whether you are in the in between, and whether you've left and you are finding your footing, you deserve safety. You deserve peace, you deserve a life where your body is not constantly bracing. If you're not ready yet, that's okay. If you're preparing quietly, that's wise. If you're in danger, prioritize safety above everything else. There is strength and clarity. There is power and preparation, and there is nothing weak about protecting yourself. When it's time and when it's safe, you will move. And that movement won't come from panic. It will come from something much steadier. A grounded knowing that you are ready to choose yourself.