For some background, I live with bipolar disorder and BPD. I’m heavily medicated and rely on a strict routine and consistency to stay stable. If you live with either of these, you understand how important that structure can be.
[Name] and I were already in a very rocky place. I remember telling him that I felt unstable, which at the time I attributed to everything that was happening between us—the constant gaslighting, manipulation, and emotional turmoil.
He started telling me that my birth control and hormones were affecting my moods. He suggested I get off birth control and essentially just “let my hormones do their thing.”
I listened to him.
I had my IUD removed because, in that moment, his reasoning made sense to me. My mind was cloudy. I trusted him. I genuinely believed I was making the right decision.
Four months later, I found out I was pregnant.
I was terrified.
This pregnancy was not planned. Yes, we had unprotected sex, but he was giving me Plan B repeatedly, and I believed it would prevent a pregnancy. I know now that Plan B is emergency contraception, not birth control—and in this situation, it failed.
That’s when my hell really began.
I decided to have an abortion.
[Name] refused to take me to the clinic. Eventually, I convinced him to at least drive me there. He sat in the car while I went inside alone and went through one of the scariest experiences of my life.
Two weeks later, I found out the abortion had not been successful.
I was absolutely panicking.
Now I was thinking, What if I have to carry and raise this pregnancy after I had already tried to end it?
The guilt was eating me alive.
I needed a second procedure.
This time, it wasn’t as simple. I had to find another provider, and appointments were booked weeks out. Every day that passed made the reality sink in more: I might actually have to carry and give birth to [Name]’s child.
I stopped taking my medication.
I was terrified that if I had to carry the pregnancy to term after attempting an abortion, something could happen to the fetus because of the procedure or the medications I was taking. I made the decision to taper off my medication because I thought I might have to carry the pregnancy and wanted to protect the fetus as much as I possibly could.
Eight weeks passed.
I was still pregnant.
I was scared, confused, and completely overwhelmed.
Meanwhile, [Name] was telling people that I was doing drugs and trying to trap him. He started recording our interactions because he became convinced that I had somehow manipulated the hospital and faked the first abortion.
I was terrified.
I didn’t want to start this process all over again. Mentally, I didn’t know if I could handle it. My entire future felt like it was hanging in the balance.
And during all of this, [Name] was giving me weeks to move out.
He was kicking me out while I was potentially carrying his child.
His explanation was that I was being “dramatic.”
Eventually, I went out of state to stay with my best friend.
While I was there, [Name] contacted me and told me he wasn’t going to pick me up from the airport. Then he broke up with me over text.
His reasoning?
Since I was with my best friend, she could console me.
The fucking audacity.
The flight home was heartbreaking. I had morning sickness the entire flight. The women sitting next to me congratulated me on the “bundle of joy” I was going to bring into the world.
They had no idea.
I felt guilty.
I felt dirty.
I felt completely broken.
I made an appointment with my OB to see if the pregnancy was still progressing. At this point, I could feel it. I couldn’t even lie down without feeling movement.
I was disgusted with myself and terrified of what was happening to my body.
My OB performed an ultrasound but couldn’t detect a heartbeat, so I was sent to the hospital for further evaluation.
[Name] threw a fit about having to take me to an early-morning appointment to find out whether the pregnancy was actually viable and whether the failed abortion had affected it.
A few days after I returned home, I finally had a D&C.
And [Name] actually came with me.
He was nice to me.
For a moment, it felt like the beginning again.
He was sweet. He was attentive. He cared for me at the hospital. He joked with the nurse about how “sweet” we were as a couple.
I remember thinking how badly I missed that version of him.
After the procedure, I was emotional and crying. Anyone who lives with BPD understands that something this traumatic can trigger an intense episode.
I begged him to get me something to eat because I was sore, exhausted, and physically couldn’t cook for myself.
He went to get food.
I was grateful—until he handed me the food and asked me to pay him back.
I had just taken weeks off because of everything happening with the pregnancy and the failed abortion.
I gave him the last of the money I had.
My emotions became so overwhelming that I called the crisis team.
They came to my house.
And they told me something I desperately needed to hear:
I wasn’t “crazy.”
I wasn’t simply having an episode.
I was in a toxic relationship.
They connected me with therapy, and eventually I started taking my medication again.
But the effects of what happened didn’t disappear.
I carried a pregnancy that was no longer viable for weeks.
I was still experiencing morning sickness. My breasts were still tender. I had nightmares. My body continued to feel pregnant even after everything I had been through.
And emotionally, I was shattered.
I still grieve that pregnancy.
I still carry guilt over the decisions I made.
I still think about what happened and wonder what I could have done differently.
But then I remind myself of something:
Had I not gone through with the second procedure, I could have continued carrying a pregnancy that was no longer viable.
And I would have been permanently connected to [Name] through that child.
As painful as everything was, that possibility scares me even more.
Domestic violence isn’t always a black eye.
Sometimes it’s someone slowly convincing you that you can’t trust your own mind.
Sometimes it’s someone influencing decisions about your body while you’re vulnerable.
Sometimes it’s being abandoned while you’re scared, pregnant, sick, and alone.
Sometimes it’s being made to feel like your trauma is just you being “dramatic.”
And sometimes the abuse doesn’t become clear until you’re finally far enough away to see what was happening to you.
I’m sharing this because I know someone else is living through something similar.
If that’s you, please know this:
You are not crazy.
You are not dramatic.
And you are not alone.
-Shared with permission by Krystin Turazzo 10/2/2026