I can't speak for the OP, but for me--if you're in a toxic relationship, sometimes it helps so, so much to know that there's someone in your corner. Sometimes it helps being so attached to that person that it forces you to find your spine and end the bad situation. For me, when it came down to it, the thought of having to give up the one person in my life who seemed to give a shit, the one person I could talk to without being terrified, it was enough to make me take a stand.

I can fully understand why anyone in a toxic relationship like that might not think of divorce or breaking up or anything as a first resort--if they can make your life hell just because you missed doing something innocent, like dinner was late or you wanted to leave a party early, telling them that you want to straight up escape for good might not end well. Especially if you've got no one else, or don't know where to turn for help.

My ex wasn't physically abusive. It was mostly emotional and psychological. I was terrified of him. I was afraid to go home. But I was also afraid to go out anywhere without him, because it was dangerous without him to protect me (...the things that you come to believe.. sigh). I was in a city where I had no friends, hadn't been able to see family at all (or the few times I could, I had to make excuses for why he wasn't with me, or why he was throwing temper tantrums about things). I was afraid of him, but more afraid of leaving--I was afraid of what he'd say or do if I tried to leave. I didn't know what I'd do, or how I'd survive, or whether I could even make ends meet. But I would have done absolutely anything, and endured any kind of hell, to keep my pets. I stayed for them more than anything else.

He was rarely home as it was--he'd work long hours, go to the gym with his buddies, watch TV when he got home late, go to bed, repeat the next day. I was alone, I was isolated, and I was terrified. He was tired a lot--and when he was tired he was effectively the same as when he was angry. And when he was angry, things would get ugly for me. Especially as he berated me about everything that was my fault (hint: everything was my fault, always).

I didn't intend to use cheating as a way out. It started with a old friend of mine who got back into touch--he took a platonic interest in my life, and started talking to me a lot to keep me company when I was stuck at home alone. It was the little things that made me realize I needed to get out--that I could have healthy arguments with people. That I didn't need to cower and apologize for daring to express an opinion. That normal people wouldn't scream at me or stop talking to me for a week if I disagreed with them. My friend pushed me to try new things, to expand my boundaries, and to get the fuck out there despite the fears I'd been conditioned to have. My ex wanted me to stop talking to my only friend. At that point I was probably cheating on an emotional level.. I didn't want to give up the only person who actually gave a fuck about me, and made me feel comfortable, like I didn't have to make excuses for who I was and what I thought. Around this point I think my Google history at work would probably indicate that I clued in that my relationship wasn't healthy...

As the talking with my friend gradually turned more sexual, I tried to rein it in--it was inappropriate, I was slated to marry the guy I was with, etc.. Although deep down I knew that marriage wasn't going to happen, and Google was strongly suggesting I should get the fuck out ASAP. The fact that it was now very clearly "cheating" made me ask myself a lot of tough questions with a lot of uncomfortable answers... A few weeks later I had enough of plan in place and had worked up the courage to end it for good with my ex. It was rough. I lost a lot--and I was still alone by the end of it, but at least I wasn't scared all the time. It's been a long time since, and I'm still got a lot of issues from the whole experience. I don't doubt in the least that if I hadn't left, I'd be long dead by now.

...I hope my pets are doing well. I miss them beyond words. My friend and I still talk a lot, and I'm now in a new, healthy relationship. And I don't miss the situation I was in. And while I do regret it--I never wanted to cheat, on any level, had never in a million years thought I'd be "that person"--it did give me enough of a start to build up the courage to get the fuck out of there. And the thought of losing the one friend who had my back, despite how uncomfortable I was with the fact that our conversations were now technically "cheating", was enough for me to sit down and clue in on wtf was wrong with my life and what I could do to fix it. I don't think I'd ever cheat again on any level. But I wouldn't go back to change anything, other than to clue in a lot sooner and get the fuck out a lot earlier.