It was supposed to be a fresh start.

Deirdre Keys was moving to Washington in 1990 with her then-15-month-old daughter and husband, despite the fact that he recently hit her for the first time. An outgoing, good looking and well-spoken man who played guitar and had a good job, he had everything you could look for on paper. Plus, he had promised that he would never hit her again.

“I had hoped that when we came up to Washington, it would change, but it didn’t,” she said.

Their relationship had always been a little tumultuous. He had a tendency to be controlling. Keys actually broke up with him at one point before they were married.

Then he tried to commit suicide, telling Keys afterwards that everything would be fine as long as she stayed with him, so she did. She loved him, after all.

“It’s a difficult thing [to leave] when someone is pulling at your heartstrings, even when he’s cold-cocking you in an elevator,” she said.

After moving to the Evergreen state from California, her husband became more physically violent and jealous. It was Keys’ fault he hit her, he said.

In a new state and away from most of her family, she felt alone and didn’t know what to do. Isolation, she reflected, is an abuser’s wonderland.

Luckily, she had one family member nearby — an aunt who was a social worker and quickly led her to LifeWire in Bellevue. The organization has helped 131,000 people since it was founded in 1982, and even before she left the marriage, Keys was able to enroll in a support group and begin working through the psychological toll her husband’s abuse took on her.

But as bad as things got, leaving wasn’t an easy choice.

“The real answer is that women don’t want to leave. They want their families to work out, they want their children to be with their dad,” Keys said. “I really believe that women who are in this situation will leave when they believe they have done everything they could have.”

Eventually, Keys did leave. But, her husband followed her.

She got an order of protection against her husband and the pair divorced, but he wasn’t done with her yet. Her husband filed for emergency custody of their daughter. Unable to afford a lawyer, Keys had to represent herself in court.

After losing his custody curveball, Keys’ ex-husband found out where she was living and tried to win her back — a trap in which she got caught. He started stalking her. She would be awakened at 2 a.m. by the sound of her now ex-husband throwing rocks at her window.

By November 1991, Keys realized she was at the end of her rope and that her abuser would never change, and ended it for good. That night, he showed up at her door and lunged, tackling her and wrapping his hands around her neck. Keys heard herself choking.

He didn’t kill her that night, but two weeks later she boarded a train for Minnesota, knowing that she would die if she stayed.

Twenty-five years later, Keys now works for a statewide agency in Minnesota and is an advocate for victims of domestic violence. Building on her experience representing herself in court and having gone back to school, she provides legal services for people in need. She also assisted in writing the state’s first anti-stalking law, developed Minnesota’s Stalking Response Protocol, served on her county’s Fatality Review Team and has trained justice system professionals on how to work with survivors of domestic violence.

While there is much more information and discussion on domestic violence compared to when she was a victim, Keys says there is more to be done. Not only are there misconceptions about the services available — for example, that victims can receive help, even before they leave their abusers — but she also wants the public to place more responsibility on the abusers.

“My mission now in my work is to assist our culture in re-framing the question. Why does it have to be ‘Why doesn’t she leave?’ instead of ‘Why doesn’t he stop hitting her?'” Keys said.

Despite the emotional charge to her work, Keys doesn’t dwell on her personal past. Aside from her upcoming speech at LifeWire’s World of Hope Gala and Auction on May 14, she doesn’t talk about it publicly much.

“It just feels irrelevant. When I’m working with clients, we’re talking about them,” Keys said. “But, the really hard thing about my story is that it’s not unique.”

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, you are not alone. Call LifeWire’s 24-Hour Helpline at 425-746-1940 or 1-800-827-8840 to speak with a trained domestic violence advocate today.