I thought I was strong and independent. I thought he was belittled, ill-used and needed someone like me. I went to France with him, to give him a new start. I learned that he was an abuser. Mental and emotional stuff to begin with. It's horrible, but you don't want to believe what has been said, you make excuses. When the physical stuff starts - you still somehow blame yourself- because by then you've been conditioned into 'it's your fault for not having learned to handle or upset him'. It's also too late.
I was also alone in a foreign country, in an isolated farmhouse. How I'm still alive still makes me wonder. He tried to strangle me twice before I eventually called the gendarmes.
Now, I'm an educated and, I would have said, a strong, independent woman and that happened to me. Somehow I found myself simpering when he excused a nasty cut on my jawbone (he'd thrown me into the bedside table) by a sort of smiley, guilty laugh about 'messing about in bed'. I still bear the scar.
So, Lankeela - it's not as straightforward as you think. I did have huge financial problems concerned with splitting-up and no way of supporting myself, or anywhere to live, or any family handy. Please don't judge. It took massive efforts and years of French legal processes to get free. (As a plus, my legal French is pretty good.)