It’s not so simple: The reality of abuse
- Allie Moroney
- 5 hours ago
- 7 min read
At the end of last year, a movie adaptation of the popular book “It Ends With Us” hit the big screens. The book and movie touch on a sensitive and very important subject — domestic violence. To preface, I have not read the book or seen the movie, but I came across an interview with the film's director, Justin Baldoni, that struck a chord with me. In the interview, Baldoni shared something he learned while making the film: “These women who experience this every single day, there is real love there. There is charm, charisma, passion, there’s this belief that they can be better, and it’s not so simple.”
It’s not so simple. Those words have stayed with me for months, and I could not agree more. Abuse often defies the neat, black-and-white categories we try to place it in. It’s not just something that happens to “other people” in theoretical situations — it’s messy, layered, and often rooted in dynamics that make it painfully hard for the victim to recognize or leave.
When it becomes personal
I understood this for the first time when someone close to me found herself in such a situation. A friend of mine began going out with a man who seemed like the total package: tall, dark, handsome, and on fire for the Holy Spirit. He was the guy everyone at church admired — the one who led worship with his guitar, quoted Scripture effortlessly, and left you spellbound with his bold proclamation of the Faith.
At first glance, it was easy to see why she was drawn to him. Unlike other socially awkward Catholic guys who didn’t have the courage to have a conversation with a woman, this guy held his head high, looked her in the eye, and made it clear that he wanted to be with her. I could see her joy in finally being chosen. In a sea of Catholic singles and apathetic, disengaged men, out of nowhere came this articulate and attractive man who declared that he would put her first and lead her to holiness.
Despite my concerns and gentle warnings to slow down, my friend fell fast and hard — and how could she not when he pursued her with such intention and confidence? Yet beneath the polished surface, this man led a disintegrated life. He struggled to hold down a job, disregarded authority, and had a controlling, aggressive leadership style. Later on, she would also discover that his problems with drugs and alcohol, which he testified were healed since meeting Christ, were still a real struggle in his life. The more their relationship unfolded, the clearer it became that his external confidence masked a dangerous, unstable man.
At first glance, it was easy to see why she was drawn to him. ... I could see her joy in finally being chosen. In a sea of Catholic singles and apathetic, disengaged men, out of nowhere came this articulate and attractive man who declared that he would put her first and lead her to holiness.
The red flags begin
The first red flag came when he began asking her to pay for things — not just occasionally, but frequently. Then it escalated. He told her the “Holy Spirit” wanted her to grow in generosity and learn to share, using spiritual manipulation to justify his audacity.
The second red flag came at a friend’s birthday party when he drank too much and yelled at her for refusing to let him drive home. I can still picture her sitting in the car, her face buried in her hands, as he slammed his fists on the dashboard. I watched helplessly from my car across the street, unsure of what to do but knowing something was deeply wrong.
The third red flag came when he got pulled over for drinking and driving. He somehow charmed his way out of a fine or jail time, but the real horror was listening to her recount the story with excuses on his behalf.
“Never again,” I said. “You cannot go back to him.” She assured me she was done. But the very next day, I saw them holding hands at Mass, and my stomach dropped.
“He said he was sorry, went to confession, and promised not to drink again … for the rest of the month,” she explained. “Plus, I realized I’m always so hard on him. Everyone makes mistakes. If the Lord can forgive him, why can’t I?”
The challenge of watching and waiting
I tried to reach out to other friends, authority figures, and anyone I thought might have the influence to help her see the danger she was in. Yet, no matter what anyone said, she remained convinced that the relationship could still work. In her mind, she could fix him, and he could change.
Another layer of complexity was the fact that she truly loved this man. Despite his abusive and destructive behavior, he was the first person to make her feel truly seen, known, and loved. For someone longing for connection, that can be an incredibly powerful pull. In the face of red flags, that might sound irrational, but the heart that is not securely rooted in the love of the Father will seek out many wells, desperately searching to quench her thirst to be loved.
Longing for love, affirmation, and attunement, my friend clung to the small but real moments of legitimate care and attention he offered. Tragically, these moments came at the cost of her well-being. This is one of the enemy’s most insidious tactics: He appeals to our legitimate needs and desires but distorts them, offering momentary relief from our pain while simultaneously seeking to destroy us. Like a false shepherd, her abuser fed her just enough to keep her coming back, draining her emotionally, spiritually, and physically.
Carrying the pain
It was one of those painful moments when you have to let someone live and learn. No matter how many times I tried to reason with her and shine light on the reality of the situation, she refused to accept the truth of what was going on. I prayed fervently that God would open a door for me to speak truth in love and that the situation wouldn’t escalate from bad to worse.
Though she knew I disagreed, my friend continued to confide in me. Story after story revealed clear emotional, physical, and spiritual abuse. My heart broke every time. I spent many moments with Our Lady of Sorrows, asking for the grace to stand steady for my friend, whose romantic feelings prevented her from seeing the silent abuse she was enduring.
All I could do was gently remind her: “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You can, and you will, get out of this. You can break up with him.”
She didn’t believe it. She didn’t want to hear it.
All I could do was gently remind her: “You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You can, and you will, get out of this. You can break up with him.”
The turning point
The relationship finally ended when her so-called “dream guy” decided on a whim to pursue another pipe dream: moving abroad to be a missionary. The abrupt ending left my friend devastated, and I sat with her in the wreckage of her heartbreak.
Through tears, she recounted all the red flags she’d ignored, the boundaries she had sworn she would never cross, and all the things she never imagined she would let slide: “In the moment, I knew something wasn’t right, but I was too scared to confront him. He always had an excuse, and somehow, everything was my fault. And in the end …” she hesitated, her voice breaking, “I actually believed it was my fault. Like I deserved it. Like if I could just say or do the right thing, he wouldn’t be so bad.”
The messiness of healing
It’s not so simple. These words resonate because they capture the heart of the tension so many face when caught in abuse. Love and harm can coexist in ways that are deeply confusing and difficult to untangle. The belief that they can somehow make it work — fueled by toxic attachment, unhealthy power dynamics, and layers of self-deception — creates a powerful combination that often traps victims in a cycle they cannot easily escape.
As my friend’s story shows, healing is also not so simple. It’s a process that often begins long before someone is ready to leave. Looking back, I remember how difficult it was to stand by my friend during her journey. When I told her “no” or urged her to walk away, I wasn’t met with gratitude or understanding at the time; I was met with frustration and defensiveness. With every coffee meet-up and phone call, I wondered if it would be the last time she would confide in me. At times, I wondered if I was doing the right thing or if it would be better for me to just let her be. But when the truth came to light, she told me how thankful she was that I had stayed by her side.
Walking in truth and love
As friends, our role is not to control someone’s choices or force them to see what they aren’t ready to see. Instead, we’re called to listen with empathy, patiently walk with them, and empower them to remember their worth when they can’t see it themselves.
Empathetic listening means creating a safe space where they can share their pain without fear of judgment. Patience means trusting God’s timing, even when it’s hard to watch someone you love struggle. Empowerment means honoring their agency, reminding them of their strength, and affirming that they can get out of the situation — and they deserve to.
It’s true: Abuse is not so simple; it’s complicated, messy, and painful. But it’s also not hopeless.
A call to embody love
It’s true: Abuse is not so simple; it’s complicated, messy, and painful. But it’s also not hopeless. Love — the kind that is patient, kind, enduring, and rooted in truth — has the power to break through. And as friends, family, and communities, we are called to embody that love, trusting that even in the mess, God’s grace is at work.
To anyone walking alongside a friend in a toxic or abusive relationship: Don’t underestimate the power of your steady presence, your prayers, and your words of encouragement. Even if they can’t hear you in the moment, your love and support plant seeds of truth. When the time is right, those seeds can grow into the courage they need to walk away and reclaim their dignity.