My dilemma was this.  It had finally reached a point where I had to ask myself; what the hell is wrong with me?  Why had I allowed someone to treat me that badly? My answer,- Either I no longer had any self-respect left, or my HUGE fear of abandonment was even bigger than my pride, and my self respect. 
  I remember hoping that it was the second one. Fear of abandonment could be worked through. My first answer was much harder to fix.

    
 I loved the same man from January 2005 until 2015. I feel safe saying that it was love at first sight.  It truly was. The electric current that ran between us had been positively palpable.  Ours had been a, love no matter what, kind of relationship; damn the consequences- in the begining. Later,  choosing this ‘love’ was ultimately the reason I lost my son, my friends, my house, my car, my job, my entire world as I knew it: 
I was in love. Hopelessly.  Pathetically.  
But suddenly, he no longer seemed to love me back. This was a problem for me because at that point I had nothing left but him, and anything is better than being all alone, right?
   The changes in him had begun slowly.  So slowly, in fact, that it is only now, looking back, that I can see the actual progression.  His increasing paranoia, being hyper-critical of everything I said and did, his refusal to eat because he claimed I had poisoned it, his covering of mirrors and anything else reflective,  taking electronics apart, then trying to put them right again, etc.,etc…  
   Then the voices in his head decided to get a lot louder, and my hell was officially begun, because up until now, though awful, it was cake compared to dealing with the voices.  Apparently, the main voice that he heard was mine, and from his expressions my voice did not say kind things.  I remember one day in late September, I said to him; “You are going to let the voices in your head ruin what we have.”  Well they already had.  I was the only one still holding on.
  It was around this time that WE also experienced his first psychotic break.  It was, to this day, the most terrifying, horrible night I have ever spent. As well as the most ‘on edge’, I have ever felt.   There have been 3 more after that night, to my knowledge. Each more terrifying than the last.  He still refused to go get help, choosing instead to blame me for his behavior, for everything.  Needless to say life was quite challenging then.  More than anything though, I feel so ashamed of myself.  Why had I allowed myself to be completely disrespected repeatedly, and until that day ignored it?  No more. At that point even I had had enough.
   Two nights later I had concluded that I could not take any more emotional abuse; and at 4 am I told him that i had finally realized that I deserved someone better, a LOT better.  I told him firmly to get out.  He did. He returned later the next afternoon.  So I sat in my room, and he sat like a zombie on my couch.  What should I do? I remember wondering. Then I did something I had long since forgot how  to do, I prayed. The Lord truly does work in mysterious ways, because two days later there was a knock on my door. I opened it to see 2 county cops. They had a warrant for his arrest. I believe they saved my life that day. Well, them and the man upstairs.