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I was in an abusive relationship for 12 years. I met him when I was fourteen and we came together when I was fifteen. He was nice and lovely and I fell in love with him. I never thought that he could have a dark side. After a few month I began to realize, that there is something inside him. When we had our first fight, he screamed with me and I had so much fear. He apologized and I forgived him. But: It didn‘t stopped. He was verbal abusive. He said that I am a whore. He made me feeling small and like I am the worst person in the world. He said, that I am a psycho. He said I am a joke. He said I am nothing. He said, that he has to talk and scream with me like this, because I don‘t understand his points otherwise. He began to destroy things like my watch or a necklace. The walls had holes and he often grabbed me at my shoulders very hard when he got angry. When I cried, he became angrier at all. I locked myself in the toilet because I had so much fear of him. He also pushed me at the asphalt when he was drunk sometimes. I had bruises. One time he choked me. I never told anybody what happend, because I always forgived him and felt so fucking guilty. I tried to left him, but he always said, that he will kill himself, when I go. I went to therapy but even there I was so ashamed, that I didn‘t talk about the abuse. After two years of therapy I got stronger and stronger. I was ready to talk to somebody about the things that happend to me and that I want to leave him. Suddenly I felt free and was ready to go. He always said, that he loves me and that I am the love of his life. It never was love. I realized that I was in an abusive relationship. There were verbal, emotional and physical abuse. I didn't imagine any of it. I wasn't crazy. Whoever is reading this and is in a similar situation: You are strong! You are intelligent! You are beautiful! You are a good person! You can trust yourself! You can talk to someone! You can do this! You can leave him! You are a wonderful human being! I love you all out there and send you hugs. We have to share our stories and we are allowed to share them. Together we can change something.

I would like to help women ( or men) learn that you can overcome the difficulty of leaving Domestic Violence and start life , in my case, for the 1st time I was "married" for 20 years in the DV and have been out for 13 years. It is a difficult process, but worth the effort to give yourself your life.

Many times I've wondered how to begin narrating my story, whether I should start from the beginning or when "love had arrived." I could start by saying that I fell in love with the person I thought was my best friend. Wow, it’s supposed that when there’s a friendship of that magnitude, love should be great. Time passed, and years later, that friendship turned into a relationship, which, for my heart, was one of the most beautiful things that had ever happened to me. I flew 1,295 miles from my country to the United States for him, believing that finally, my true love story would become a reality. I knew he had a strong character and was a bit egocentric, something that bothered me, but I always tried to ignore those thoughts with the "sweet gestures" he could have with me. In the third year of our relationship, after discovering an online affair (they were only chatting because they were in different countries), he proposed to me. Shortly after we got married, we bought our first house together. Wow, if we weighed it all out, there were many wonderful moments that turned into sad endings because, according to him, I didn’t do something right, and many times I would repeat to myself, “I need to be better for myself and for him,” but for him, I was never good enough. Little by little, I started to fade. His words and actions took me to the darkest places—depression and anxiety. From there, it got even darker: a fight in the bathroom where he was the only one talking, and I had long ago decided to remain silent to avoid making the problem worse. I remember that night we were sitting on the bathroom floor arguing, and when it ended, we decided to leave the bathroom. I was walking behind him, continuing the argument, and that’s when he decided to push me, making me fall back several feet. I had never felt so vulnerable in my life. Among the physical pain I felt in my body, the pain in my soul was even stronger. He apologized and insisted that he thought I was coming after him to hit him. I insisted that I would be incapable of doing something like that, but once again, I was blamed. Shortly after, the problems in the relationship intensified, and there was more crying than laughing. I blamed the depression, but deep down, I knew it was everything that was happening there. I decided to seek professional help and started working with a psychiatrist. For more than a year, I was in therapy and on medication, and that’s when my awakening began. I’ll never forget the day my therapist said to me, "I want you to do an exercise that I know I shouldn’t ask of you." I forgot to mention that I earned my psychology degree in my home country. She continued, “We’re going to make a diagnosis, but it’s not for you. If I’m right, our therapy is going to change drastically because you’ll have only two options: divorce or couples therapy.” Although she didn’t say it, she was leaning more towards divorce. Her request was, "Let’s diagnose, based on observation, whether your husband is a narcissist. You’ve given me many examples that are raising red flags for me." She managed to get an interview with him, and in the end, we reached the diagnosis: I was married to a narcissist. I had been too ashamed to tell her that a week earlier, I was not only a victim of his physical aggression when he pushed me, but he had also pulled my hair. I had never felt so ashamed of myself until I had to talk about it with my therapist. Her only words were, “Run from there; there’s no turning back.” How grateful I am to her for those words. Today, almost a year after our legal divorce, although this path hasn’t been easy, I feel that I’ve become a much more resilient woman. No matter how difficult the situation is, no matter how much pain you may feel, love doesn’t have to be the excuse to push your limits. I knew for a long time that I needed to leave, and it’s not easy. Finding that strength is not easy, but today I can say that when your love for yourself grows every day, it’s that love that helps you move forward. Losing everything and losing myself to find myself has been the most beautiful experience life has given me. NO MORE. Only you have the power to break the cycle.

The first time someone raped me, I was fourteen. Summer before high school. I didn’t know what rape was. I didn’t have a word for what happened. I didn’t know it was wrong, even though it felt terrifying and ugly and dirty. I figured it was just me. Turns out when things like this go unaddressed, we’re at higher risks of repeating the trauma. That’s what ended up happening to me in different ways. I hated myself. I struggled with eating disorders. I felt inherently poison. I don’t remember a lot because the majority of my thoughts were consumed by pain, and wondering if anyone cared. It didn’t feel like anyone did; in fact, all my trauma responses (before I knew them as such) were blamed on me being difficult. Ten years later, I realized and disclosed the impact rape had on my entire understanding of myself and the difficult roads I had traveled. And so I began a long healing journey. A few years after that, it happened again. Turns out old trauma responses die hard. The difference was that this time, I knew what happened. I had words for it. It was brutal, but I fought for myself and became the advocate I needed as a kid. I didn’t abandon her, the terrified girl battered in a dark room. I stayed. I was exhausted, I grieved, I did it all. But I stayed. Three years have passed. While the DA couldn’t prosecute, I found a lawyer willing to take my case as a civil case on contingency. I can’t say that was easy, or that any part of the process felt fair. But again—I stayed. What I think most about in my healing is that living freely is a luxury even though it shouldn’t be. I think about the chains that tie us up over time, the intersections of violence and our identities, of feeling in my body or out of it, what feels safe for my presence, how I can grow into that so I can enjoy pieces of life I’ve cut off out of fear for their being an opening for more harm. I’m still healing. Aren’t we all? And what I’ve decided is that healing lives not only in what you reclaim but how you reclaim it. Wholeness is what we deserve. Every one of us. Including me. Including you.

As I was saying I am happy where I am now I don't know where my abuser is Initial as I called him The abuse was horrible I really didn't know where to turn who I could tell bc if I call the pd he threatened to hit himself to make it look like I was the abuser That meant if he went to jail so did I I was afraid of his friends especially the female friends they hated me I didn't drink or do drugs so I was boring I was even more afraid of his brothers they were more aggressive than Initial was ...my kids (not his ) hated him the feeling was mutual...I just hated his guts I was trapped in a relationship I didn't want to be in He stole from me and when I went on unemployment he took that too I was his slave at everything when I didn't want to be intimate he'd accuse me of cheating I went to women's shelter and he found me I was followed by the time I was ready to leave I found myself wanting him to just end my life he threatened to every day and I would challenge him but he didn't do it bc he was a pussy