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On Feb.Day, Year my live in boyfriend of 9 years tried to murder me with not 1, but 2 aluminum baseball bats. It started around 10 p.m. on the night of the Date and nobody found me until 8:30 on the morning of the Date Needless to say they thought they had their first murder case for the year of Year. As I sit here today I am blind in one eye. I had facial and cranial reconstruction. I am left with metal plates in my face. I also have metal rods, pins and screws throughout both of my arms. I have some brain damage. For the first 3 days of being in the hospital I was in surgery. I was in a 5-day coma. And as I was in surgery on that first day, they had to hunt him down. They finally tracked him in City, State. And they charged him with attempted murder, kidnapping, terroristic threats and also having a stolen firearm while being a felon. And he is in prison where he will die. And I am here to warn women and men that are in violent relationships to get out as soon as possible!

To my fellow survivor, I am a 9 year survivor of sexual assault. I am proud to be sharing my story, and hoping my words can provide comfort and courage. Something that was very important to me was reporting my rapist. Fear takes over our body, and we feel numb. I wanted to cocoon myself in a blanket and stay there forever. The thought of contacting law enforcement was terrifying. Taking that scary step can make you feel empowered. I wanted my voice, my story, and my emotions to be heard. There is a quote “speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.” This quote carried me through one of the most difficult times in my life. When we speak our truth, we are no longer carrying this alone. You are being heard and taking back the power. Share your story, heal with love and care, and most of all surviving is the bravest of all. “I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” Brené Brown

I was raped 7 years ago on Date I just so happened to be one of those college girls who would go to my guys' friends houses to study and had never had any problems with them. One day I started talking to a guy online and it went well enough that I decided to go to his house to meet him. That's when it happened, and for years I was blamed and shamed by everyone. Law enforcement, victim advocates, lawyers, prosecutor, etc. I wanted charges filed, but nobody did anything. It was almost as if all these people just got a job just to get paid, not to actually "DO" their job..... It was crazy the amount of doctors and therapists I saw that told me it wasn't my fault, and those are the people who stick with me to always let me remember that to this very day.

I felt so alone until I watched it ends with us. It was the first movie I saw alone in a long time. I walked in thinking it was some sort of romantic comedy until I was watching the movie and realized I was lily bloom. I married the man that I thought was this incredible and passionate person, who only ended up cheating on me and physically and mentally abused me. The scene of being pushed and her thinking she fell is exactly what I experienced. Shortly after my own personal experience I realized I was pregnant and wanted so badly to fight for my marriage until ultimately I had no choice but to leave. I’m 8 months pregnant now and have had the hardest time connecting to the life inside of me until I watched this movie. When I saw lily setting up her baby’s room, and the words she said to Ryle in the hospital was exactly what I needed to accept what it is I am going through and realizing I will never go back to the abuse I endured. And truly it ends with me and my new baby that I have yet to meet. Thanks to this movie it gave me strength to set up things for my new baby. I gave him a new name. And I am ready for a new chapter in my life. Thank you to Justin baldoni for bringing awareness to people like me. I left the theatre crying not because I was sad but because God brought me alone to that theatre to watch this movie that I felt was made just for me…

I dated someone for 4 years and they were very abusive I forever wish I would’ve reported the abuse that went on but instead I kept quiet. I am forever thankful that I was able to wake up mentally one day and realize it was not fair to keep being with someone who was physically violent with me and that person did not love me. I am still recovering even years later from this but every day is a new journey and you have to take each day by day because it will get better.

We met at a campus Christian fellowship meeting during my first week of college. We were introduced by a friend of his and he walked me back to my dorm. I assumed he would be a safe person since we met through a Christian entity. Up to this point, I had very little dating experience. It went from nothing to intense real quick. We never had the conversation about what we were and all of the sudden we were serious. It went from seeing him weekly at fellowship meetings to all the time, in no time at all. We were THE couple on campus. If we weren't at an event, folks were banging on my door asking where we were. Everyone wanted to be like us. There was never any “are you sure?” or “this doesn’t seem right” conversations from anyone. There was an expectation to see us at events around campus. The abuse was gradual – boundary testing and love bombing. Although I didn’t recognize it as abuse at the time. As far as the smaller signs of abuse, I remember I told him I thought hickeys were trashy and almost immediately he gave me an intense hickey and responses, “you mean just like that?” I thought it was just a dude thing to do but in reality he crossed a boundary I set on the spot. There were so many little things like that that didn’t originally feel like a red flag. If I knew what I knew now, that would have been an immediate no. He and I broke up after graduation. It felt like he dropped off the face of the earth. However, he literally showed up years later at my parent’s doorstep when I moved there to take care of my mother who was dying of cancer. Cue the love bombing again... I was already in a vulnerable place because of my mom. Once my mom passed on his birthday, he dropped everything to be with me. Looking back, he brought his baby sister and she made several comments about how I need to be “cheerful and smiling” because that is what my mom would want. It made me question why he brought her in the first place, because it wasn’t helpful. But, I still was in shock at how he dropped everything for me. We got engaged and married shortly after. The abuse continued. One day when I was heading to the grave site, I was sexually assaulted in the car and I tried to justify it by him not being used to me being dressed up and that I was being hyper emotional. These little escalations over time grew. The gaps between escalation got shorter and shorter and the escalation got more and more. He knew so much about my insecurities that he used it against me, by saying things like “who else will give you attention,” “I am the only man who has come back to you,” “you are hypersensitive just like your mom said.” He would also manipulate me and use intimidation knowing that the local DV shelter was not wheelchair accessible at the time, leaving me without a quick escape. It took me a long time to figure out how to navigate this and move forward. He enjoyed making me fear for my life, but then making me get my emotions together before seeing any of our friends. He enjoyed humiliating, degrading and making me fear for my life. One time he refused to help me accessibility wise (couldn’t get into a bathroom) and I had an accident – he enjoyed the ability to control things. More than a year before I left, I had a disassociation episode and lost hours of time. By the end of that day, I tried to leave and went to my church group for help, and they didn’t support me. So, I figured if they didn’t believe me or think that he is a good man being with a disabled woman, I thought I deserved to stay and I will likely just end up being killed. In fact, I am a strangulation survivor. He would put his hands on my throat and say things like, “you know how easily I can kill you” and once I replied, “just f*cking do it then and get it over with” – I was at that point where I didn’t care if I lived or died. Eight years later it was my birthday eve, we went to dinner – he had to work on my actual birthday – and we began to argue over him wanting to go to a friend’s house that night. Prior to this night, he would leave for three hours or more and I never knew what he was doing or if he was dead somewhere. So, I wasn’t fond of him going back to his friend’s house on my birthday eve and I muttered the statement “well happy f*cking birthday to me” and he replied with “you have only been ruining my birthday for the last eight f*cking years.” And immediately after he said that I unloaded on him. The last thing I said was – I know how long you spend at your friend’s house, and I will be gone before you get back. For context, in the past I tried leaving three times. I had been pulling away for a little bit to try and process what has been going on. Once after staying with a friend for an extended period of time I would question why I would go back but it felt like I was telling myself that it would get better. One time he and I had a nasty fight when he got home very late, and I said “are we going to talk about this or do what we normally do and sweep it under the rug.” His response made me fearful. I immediately dissociated as he banged his fists on the wall and was screaming over me. I curled up and time disappeared. His voice became just noise. Then something switched and he was back to normal. I knew I needed to do what he expected me to do in order to de- escalate. So we changed for bed and I didn’t sleep a wink. The next day I tried to get him out of the house and to church but it wasn’t happening so I just left. I dissociated and don’t remember driving into town. I made it to church and it was clear that I was unwell. That is when I finally made a full disclosure and it was horrible. My pastor said it was too busy and had me sit with his mother in law. After sharing my experiences with her, she said “Are you sure you understand what abuse really is? You just need to go home and be a better wife and appreciate how much he takes care of you.” as she gestured to my wheelchair. I knew I needed to get out of there immediately. I then found a friend and disclosed it to her. She had a similar reaction. This set me off. I got in my car and had self harming thoughts. But I made it home. He told me I might as well just stay. I thought I would just die here. There was more escalation and sleep deprivation - everything got worse. He told me if I went to stay with someone else that I would be a burden to them, and no one would help me due to my disability. Two days after I left, I went home for an already planned trip for Thanksgiving and folks knew something was wrong immediately. That part of the family was and always has been supportive of my divorce. They are two hours away so help is limited. The community I lived in and am back living in, so many people want to minimize abuse towards people with disabilities. They don’t want to see the severity of it. Other folks outside of my family were not that supportive. Many questioned my ability to know what domestic violence truly is. Most tried to justify his actions and tell me it couldn't have been that bad...after all, why would he be with someone like me if he wasn't a good man?!?! As if he must be a Saint to be with someone with a disability and “maybe he was just tired of taking care of me” – utter nonsense. I have had to make my circle small. I have learned which people get it and validate me vs those who made comments or don’t support me. The biggest thing for me was finding validating books and literature. Coming into Speak Your Truth Today and seeing similarities in stories and having that validation of not being over dramatic, over sensitive, and this is a reality I am healing from was a huge thing for me. I really hope to make it known what happened to me and make sure that even if you have the slightest inclination that you are not being taken seriously, find support elsewhere. You deserve help. Not all folks with disabilities need a caregiver. And not all partners are caregivers. This is a common stereotype/assumption that people can have. Validation was rare outside my family until I found SYTT. But know this – there is NEVER an excuse for abuse. Your disability didn't cause it, there's NOTHING you do to deserve abuse. Educate yourself on healthy relationships and know that you are deserving of a peaceful, loving, committed, happy relationship. Educate yourself on the nuances of abuse towards those with disabilities. Abusers use a completely different set of tactics. We have different barriers, complex needs and shame/ ableist mentalities are deeply influenced by our abusers.

I grew up in violence- my neighborhood, my school, my home. I grew up with constant insults and indignities because of poverty and a violent brother. So when I met Jack when I was 22 and he was a bully, dismissive, insulting and emotionally difficult for me, it all felt normal. But, as I got older I knew I had to get away from him. He limited my relationships and always found ways to subvert my work while belittling me for not keeping jobs. I tried to leave many time but he bulleyed, frightened, pleaded, coerced, apologized, threatened until I took him back. Then when I was 68 and he was 69 he left to have a “selfish bucket list fling” with a former girlfriend. He expected to come back after 2 months. He didn’t believe me that I was divorcing him and signed the papers without reading them. It has been 2 1/2 years and I am still fighting the battle in court to actually get the court ordered alimony that is coming to me. I am not homeless. In fact I live in the home we bought and remodeled. I have a very good life. He had me convinced that I would be back in poverty if it were not for him. I feel more well off than I ever did with him. Plus, his negativity, meanness, and general bad behavior are out of my life at last. I wish I had had the courage and strength to leave years ago and save myself and my children from his abuse. But I am happy to heal my relationships with the people I love who he kept away from me for all those years.

Leaving my ex was a decision shaped by years of isolation and physical abuse, but the breaking point was when he tried to control my livelihood. He wanted me to quit my job, and when I refused, he didn’t care. Another time, he looked me in the eyes and said, “You’re not leaving this apartment alive,” before laughing. That was the moment I realized—why was I letting this man decide what I did with my life? Why was I letting him determine whether I got to be alive at all? The day I finally left, I called my mom and told her I wanted out. When my ex threatened to throw all my belongings away, I called the police. They gave me five minutes to gather what I could. I grabbed whatever I could carry and walked away. But leaving wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning. He stalked and harassed me relentlessly. Social media messages. Presents left on my car. Showing up at my parents' house. Nonstop calls. I eventually had to change my phone number. Even then, it took me a while to file for a Protection Order because, somehow, I still felt bad for him. Then, after months of no contact, I ran into him at the gym. He made a threatening remark, so I reported it, and he was banned. That set him off. As I left the gym, he tried to run me off the road. I managed to pull into a parking lot where bystanders gathered around me while he screamed. The police arrived and told me I should file for an Emergency Protection Order immediately—something I had put off, thinking I had to wait for regular business hours. I got the order and thought that would be the end of it. But exactly one day after it expired, he showed up again—and this time, he wouldn’t let me leave where I was parked. Panic took over as I desperately tried to get someone’s attention to call the police. Finally, I managed to get to safety, and someone had already made the call. As I started driving home, I realized he was following me again. Instead of going home, I turned back and told the police. They offered to follow me, and as I drove off, I spotted him on the other side of the road. I motioned to the officer, who immediately pulled him over. A few minutes later, the officer called me and said I needed to get another order against him, warning that he was "mentally unwell." He hoped that pulling him over had given me enough time to get home safely. This time, I had to file for a Peace Order, which only lasted six months. He even tried to appeal it—but in the end, it was granted. Looking back, I learned that the most dangerous time for a survivor isn’t during the relationship—it’s when they try to leave. Those months after I walked away were far more terrifying than any moment I spent with him. But in the end, I made it out. And that’s what matters.

I was interviewing for a position at Target in 2009 and my ex-partner is the employee who first greeted me that day – he had a really inviting smile. After working together for a couple of months, I fell for his charming personality, and we started dating in January of 2010. He was funny and made me laugh. He also made me feel special and beautiful. The abuse began a few months after we started dating. He pitted me against his ex-girlfriend – who was also not over him – through, what I now know as, manipulation tactics. The emotional and verbal abuse started about a year into the relationship. So much name-calling, gaslighting, and flipping things around so it appeared as though I was always overreacting. Even with all of that, there were good times and nothing physical at this point. We ended up getting married in 2012 and within two weeks of living together the physical abuse started, followed quickly by sexual abuse. Unfortunately, the emotional, verbal, and psychological abuse were much worse during this time as well. I knew I had to leave when one day I was walking out the door and he hit me from behind, while threatening to snap my neck if I screamed. His actions and threat terrified me, so as soon as I could, I snuck out of my home to a friend’s house and called the military police. Thankfully they believed me, and he received an Article 15* and was punished for his actions and threats. *An Article 15 is where the commander (who is normally not a lawyer) hears the evidence, makes a determination of guilt or innocence, and imposes punishment as they see fit. I was unable to leave for a couple more months after this terrifying incident, but that day was my wakeup call – if I stayed, he was going to kill me. I left in July 2013! The process was extremely confusing and hard. It is truly a miracle I was able to leave, and I really can’t tell you how it was possible. On top of the process itself being confusing, difficult, and scary, I lived in Guam at the time – halfway around the world from everyone I knew and any support system. I was terrified…but I left anyway. I don’t know how I would have left and divorced him without the support system I had. My friends (not mutual – those who were just mine) and family were extremely supportive and encouraged me to leave him. My dad handled everything so well. He never doubted me. He never judged me. This is the support that is needed when you’re trying to be free. My grandparents took me to the lawyer to divorce him. Standing strong alongside me. My journey started with reading countless self-help books because I learned that working on yourself is as essential as taking care of yourself. Both new concepts to a survivor of domestic violence. After being diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) two years after I left, I finally started therapy. I was extremely lucky in that I did not have to work for an entire year and could focus my time on healing and therapy. And while I had that year of dedicated time, healing from domestic violence is a lifelong endeavor – I’m still in therapy now and on doctor prescribed medications. It truly is a journey and with a good therapist and a variety of treatments (such as Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy and Eye Movement Desensitization and Processing (EMDR)), you will continue to heal.

I was 16 the first time I was raped. Ten days following my 16th birthday to be exact. My rapist was the first boy that paid attention to me and groomed me with such sophistication for someone of only 18. I was an awkward, shy, overweight young lady who was bullied in school and repeatedly told by boys that I was ugly. I was the weird girl that was ugly, fat and liked pro-wrestling. My rapist latched onto that vulnerability he saw in me and made me feel like someone finally noticed me and that I was worthy of love from someone other than my Mom. On the day the rape happened, he wanted me to come back to his house, knowing that we would be alone because his parents were out of town. After resisting his insistence to have sex, I half-heartedly "consented." This "consent" in no way modeled the consent we understand now, which is enthusiastic and ongoing. After telling him apparently one too many times that I wanted him to stop because it hurt when he reached my hymen, he grabbed the top of my head by my hair and slammed the back of my head into his headboard. The last thing I remember before passing out was that all my fingers and toes were going numb and the sharpest piercing pain I have ever felt in my pelvis. I awoke to find him gone from the room, with me on the bed covered in blood from the waist down and in terrible pain, and with dried blood attached to my hair where my scalp met the headboard. Once I got up from the bed and managed to clean myself up, I found him in the kitchen standing at the refrigerator and he said "hey babe, you hungry?" Like nothing happened. I was so confused and I talked myself into believing that what he just did wasn't rape because how could it be if he wasn't upset and his first reaction was to ask if I was hungry? I didn't understand all of this and the way predators operate until I was an adult, and that everything I was feeling was actually normal. I didn't see him at all after that, until the following year and a half when I found he was employed at the same store I got a job at, not knowing that he worked there before applying. What followed was a typical pattern of grooming me all over again and six more months of abuse, coercion, and daily sexual assaults and/or rape. The abuse was so severe that I began disassociating. I also developed a drug and alcohol addiction that lasted until I was 28 years old. My subsequent relationship and marriage to the first boy that paid attention to me imploded and ended in divorce. My drug and alcohol addiction was out of control because I didn't want to feel anything, much less the emotional pain and scarring this did to me, and in June of 2006 I intentionally overdosed. I was told by the EMS and ER staff that I was deceased for a little over two minutes. Not long after this, however, a genuine miracle happened. I met my husband, who at the time was a behavioral therapist working with teenage sex offenders and understood the complicated nature of behaviors that develop after someone is sexually abused or assaulted. He not only helped me get clean and sober, which I have been for 15 years now, but encouraged me to go back to school and earn my two degrees in Criminal Justice and Criminology. He has also supported me in starting my own advocacy organization, Organization Name, in our state of State, and works with the community along side me to educate communities about the prevalence of domestic and sexual violence. I am still in therapy today, even at 43, and even with all my years of positive support because the process of healing is ongoing. I want all those who read this to know that life really can be beautiful, even after such awful darkness. You did not "deserve" anything that happened to you, even if you've been conditioned to believe that by your abuser. You, as the survivor, have absolutely no shame in what happened. Believe me when I tell you, the shame is misplaced and that shame belongs to your abuser, not you. You matter. You have a voice and you deserve to have it heard. For those on the beginning of their healing journey, please stay strong and keep going, even when it hurts to do so. If you do not have the support system that is crucial to your healing, let this space be your support. You will smile again. You will laugh again. You will live again.

Six years have passed, since fleeing the abuse. No one prepares you for the struggles your mind goes through consciously and subconsciously. Almost everyone you meet along your healing journey does not understand, nor know how to navigate your emotions and actions. Expected to just move forward and put all psychological abuse in the past. Folks who knew you before the abuse, expect you to snap back to reality. For many like myself, snapping back to reality was a sense of being stuck in auto pilot. On the outside, working to please those around me. Not knowing who I was, hobbies or interests. I began my journey an empty shell. My emotions and actions scrambled. Struggled with mind numbing substance, became evident to me, that was not a solution. A couple years after, still struggling with waking night sweats and the same nightmare playing over and over. I set out on a mission to help myself help others. I discovered I was not alone through the different platforms. I began writing out all the difficult memories, using just a notebook, and any writing utensil available. Some years have since passed. Beginning my personal journey, has liberated me and I discovered how beautiful I truly am and how complex the healing journey truly can be. I do not have the nightmares anymore and I am the strongest I have ever been in my adult life. I have been empowered through self awareness. While documenting my experiences, I have learned how to write more than just my name. I am still learning how to speak to people. And everyday since, I set out to help others overcome their nightmares as well. It took some time to realize the grass on this side is breath taking and in a positive way.

When I was 16, I was attacked by a mutual friend. Duct taped and tied to the bed, I've never felt so scared. I just froze and I hated myself for a long time because I always thought it was my fault and I should've protected myself. I later learned that freezing is a natural trauma response. He raped me, I didn't ask for that, no one does. I couldn't speak about it to anyone because no one would listen, everyone just thought I was making it up. It took a long time and lots of therapy to be where I am today. 8 years later, I found my people and am thriving. If it weren't for the other survivors around me, I wouldn't be here today.

I was used and abused by my next door neighbor's teenage son for two years, from age 4 till age 6. I was friends with his little sister and him and he gained my trust after my mom and I moved into the house. The first time it happened we were in the living room and he got my Simpsons sheet from my room and we went under the sheet and he unvelcroed his board shorts and took his penis out and put my head on it, telling me to pretend it was a bottle, it was frequent between oral and anal and I didn't understand how bad it was, my mom caught it finally and it stopped. My mom was going to press charges but his dad was a former police officer and my decided to not go through with it. As a child afterwards I moved forward, in my teens and adult years, I'm 36 almost 37, relationships have been difficult. I'm have not been intimate with any woman.

If Only I knew… The most difficult trip I have ever made was traveling back from (Place to Place). It was in 2010, after spending a year in (place) where (Name) was on assignment, the children aged 12 and 4 and myself flew back to (place) because the father and husband we knew had a double life and abandoned us at the residence our oldest son would later call “a golden prison.” On the wee hours of our arrival in (place)in July 2009, (Name) dumped me in a separate room as a “slave.” The children and I found ourselves lost in the corridor when he locked himself in his room. Our entire world collapsed – I was shaking, it was impossible to take care of myself and the children- we spent the night together sobbing, without changing into our pajamas. We fell asleep mingling our tears. The next day, (Name) left for work before we woke up. I was ashamed to meet the house employees for the first time. Me, the wife of their “Boss,” I had no authority – It was the beginning of a year of hell! We were happy to go back, but I dreaded the questions of my neighbors, my colleagues, and friends who bid me goodbye thinking I would stay in (place) for the 3 years (Name) still had to spend there out of the 4 year- appointment to represent his organization. I did not want the plane to land. I felt safe up in the air because I did not know how I would be able to take care of the children’s needs without (Name). I did not know how we would survive without him because we were his dependents for visa, medical insurance, vacation, (Name) was the main provider. With a masters in Money and Finance, I had not yet found a decent job - my meager revenue as a temporary employee would not sustain us. I had no choice but to file for divorce when (Name) sent me a letter stating that our marriage was over and that I would be informed in due course. I struggled financially to pay for my legal fees and other various expenses for the children. I was drained emotionally to keep the children safe all while going to court and trying to look sane at work. I fought to stay afloat with the help of the Domestic Abuse office of my organization, my family, and a few resolute friends. The children and I are doing better today but it was a long road. If you can, please read the whole story in my first book, If Only I Knew, that came out on November 14, 2023. The link is below. https://www.amazon.com/If-Only-Knew-Elise-Priso/dp/B0CNKTN924?source=ps-sl-shoppingads-lpcontext&ref_=fplfs&psc=1&smid=ATVPDKIKX0DER

I won't protect him anymore. I won't hide what he did. I won't suffer in silence because the atrocities of what happened makes the bystanders uncomfortable when I tell my story. Sit with it. Feel the discomfort. Feel a crumb of the fear I felt every day I came home from school. Feel the shame of not believing me when I said I was afraid for my life, and you denied me shelter. Sent me back to the place where I was supposed to feel safety, but instead feared for my life by my father. He tells me "a parents' job is to be better than their parents were to them." Well the bar was set pretty damn low. Just because your dad was abusive too, doesn't give you an excuse to abuse me. How is my heart opened and more compassionate after how you've broken it, but yours only wants to break others? I didn't choose to be born. You brought me into this world, and you made it very clear that you could take me out of it, if you so desired. I loved you. I still love you. The hardest part of all of this was fighting the childlike, optimistic image I had of you. I still fight it. Everything in my soul wants to love you. Wants to have more of your "good days." But the other side of me hates that you stole my childhood. For haunting my dreams. For the everyday fear - even though I've moved thousands of miles away. Bystanders - don't tell me "one day things will be okay, and you will talk to your father again." He can't change.

My name is (Name) and this is my story. I have been abused for most of my life from childhood, well into my adult years. I never knew what gaslighting was or love bombing and other terms until I got older and realized what was happening. My mother did that for soo long it was all I knew and I thought it was “normal.” When I was 18 I started a relationship with someone and it was off and on and then we lost contact and then when I was 21 we came back into contact. He won me in the beginning with his charm and sense of humor. Little did I know I was slowly being manipulated, love bombed, controlled and lots of gaslighting. I made a trip to go visit him and I was only supposed to be there a week and I ended up staying. In the beginning everything seemed fine even though he had already cheated on me (red flag) but for some reason I overlooked it and continued the relationship. Over time he became more and more controlling. Starting off with what I could or couldn’t wear, how my hair and makeup were supposed to be done. Then it turned into I couldn’t go anywhere unless I was with him. I wasn’t allowed to have friends, money of my own, and basically I couldn’t do anything without his permission. Meanwhile he could come and go as he pleased, talk to anyone, have friends, and do whatever he wanted with my money. My bank account eventually got closed because he overdrew it soo many times and got so deep in the hole, I couldn’t get it out. He then made me get an account where he banked and he knew I wouldn’t be able to get a debit card there. All my checks I had to go in and get them cashed, and then hand over all my money to him. If I didn’t he would just get it out of my purse later anyway. I slowly started to gain weight because I was miserable, even though I convinced myself I wasn’t. He constantly made remarks about my body and compared me to women in public, movies, and porn. Asking me why I don’t look like that or he’d make a comment in front of me about another girl saying, “I’d bang the shit out of her.” Never, not once did I ever do that to him but he felt entitled to do it to me. I remember the first time he hit me, he didn’t even apologize after doing it. He told me he’d have no issue doing it again. I walked on eggshells everyday because I never knew what would set him off. I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone about it and if I tried he would somehow know or catch me. I couldn’t even call anyone back home. He alienated me from everyone and kept me under his constant control. He complained if I needed basic necessities, but it was nothing for him to spend over $100 on video games. He made me work two jobs while he worked one. His family knew I was being abused and did nothing. No one helped me, I was absolutely stuck. There were at least 4-5 different times I packed my things wanting to leave but I couldn’t do it. He even told me to one time and when he got home I said I’m packed and he started laughing. He said, “I only said that to see if you would actually pack your things.” He knew I truly couldn’t go anywhere because I didn’t have a car, money or anywhere to go. I caught him several times talking to other girls, and he treated it like no big deal. One time a guy flirted with me and all hell broke loose. He hated the fact someone else thought I was attractive. Even though he truly didn’t want me, he didn’t want anyone else to have me either. He would wait outside my work (without me knowing) and would watch me and watch others that would come in to see if I flirted with them or if they flirted with me. Yet he could flirt and talk to whoever he wanted. He would always tell me no one else would want me. He ripped away any confidence that ever had and truly made me feel the lowest I’ve ever felt and absolutely worthless. I remember having to hide bruises because he would hit me and then he would hit me in places he knew no one could see. There were times I was slammed against the wall by my throat, thrown onto the bed and held down. He told me if I ever got pregnant he’d kick me in the stomach. Yet he forced me to have sex 3-4 times a day with no protection. For almost a year I thought I couldn’t get pregnant, until I did. The day I found out I was pregnant, you would have thought someone died. I cried soo hard and I was afraid to tell him. I had to wait what seemed like an eternity for him to come home so I could tell him. When I told him, he laughed and said “shit happens.” Not the reaction I was hoping for but I guess it was better than him being mad. He drank himself into a stupid mess that night. During that first 6-7 weeks I dropped 40lbs because I couldn’t hold anything down, not even water. He still expected me to cook for him while being that sick. He wouldn’t even allow me to lay on the couch and just rest. I asked him to get me something to drink and an hour passed by and I decided to do it myself. He then says “get me something while you’re up.” I was furious but too sick and weak to do anything. Not to long after that I had to go to the hospital because I wasn’t getting any better and I was afraid I’d have a miscarriage. As soon as I was admitted he left. He left me there knowing I had zero friends and family to come see me. I was in there for 3 days and when I called him for him to come get me he was pissed. Not just because he had to come get me but because I had woken him up from sleeping. I was out for two days and had to go back due to not only still throwing up but throwing up blood this time. I was admitted back in the hospital and this time for much longer. I was in there for about two weeks. After being asked questions about the relationship, the doctors, nurses and basically anyone who came into my room who worked there refused to release me back to him. During this time he never came to see me, never called me I always had to call him. My phone eventually got taken away and then I had to use the hospital phone. He left me high and dry and he didn’t care. He was too busy talking to an 18 year old still in high school and it wasn’t the first time he did that to me. My last night in there, because my mom (first abuser) was coming to get me out of there, he came and saw me. I was a nervous anxious mess. I was also scared. All he did was joke around and made jokes about having sex there. My nerves couldn’t handle it and I began to throw up. He said “well that’s my cue to leave,” and he left. He knew I was leaving the next day and told me to not come to his work and see him before I did. When we got to the house so I could get my things, he had already put them in a box and left it outside. I have never been so hurt and just felt so worthless. After I got away from him I truly wasn’t completely out from under his control. During my pregnancy he tried his best to control what I did, and I wasn’t allowed to “date” even though we were several states away from one another and we were not together at this point. Again he didn’t want me but he didn’t want anyone else to have me either. He wanted full control over me. Our phone calls were screaming matches and he threatened several times to take the baby away once he was born. I knew that would never happen because I knew he was too cheap to get a lawyer to do that. I gave him plenty of time to be there when they baby was born and of course he was a no show. Once I got home from the hospital I called him to let him know his son was born. Instead he yelled at me asking me where I’ve been because he couldn’t get a hold of me. I told him I had been in the hospital and if he tried to call the hospital he would have known that. Nope he rather have an excuse to be mad and yell at me. Sorry I was in the hospital having your baby, my bad!!! He did not really want to be a dad and hit the time my son was 5 he started asking about who his dad was. I didn’t lie and told him. Once again he sweet talked me into a relationship and I only did so for my child. I had to lie to my family in order for them to agree to it. I told him if it was the same crap he did 5 years prior I would end it. Not long into the relationship it was just that. The control started, the manipulation, gas lighting etc. He hadn’t changed. He was still talking to other girls, making demands, telling me what to do etc. I ended it and never went back. I tried to get him to be a father but he didn’t want to be one and I couldn’t force him. Walking away from him for the last time was the best thing I ever did. Yes it was hard but if I didn’t, something worse would have happened. I always get the question “why did you stay” or “why didn’t you leave?” It is not always that easy! He beat me down so much I truly believed no one else wanted me. I felt absolutely worthless. I had zero confidence, no self worth whatsoever. I also had no money, no car, no nothing. He made it to where I was completely dependent on him. The hospital is what saved me the first time by not releasing me back to him. The second time I was able to save myself and walk away before it was too late. I have other stories about being abused by another man, but other than being abused by my mother this one is the one that has left the most scars from a man. That relationship was truly damaging. Over time some memories don’t hurt as bad and still working on some triggers to this day. Though he has passed, the memories, triggers and trauma are still there. Abuse of any kind is never okay! LOVE ISN'T SUPPOSED TO HURT!!

My husband and I met online in 2004. He was an actor and we began chatting on one of his movie's IMDb boards. In 2006, he flew to Tennessee from California to meet me in my hometown, and after a year together, we moved to Los Angeles. He'd grown up here; I'd never been west of the Rockies. Once settled in LA, we had a tumultuous relationship, caused partly by having very little money (an understandable conflict in a partnership). But the main cause of trouble for us were his family and friends, and he rarely defended me to or protected me from them - an unforgiveable conflict in a partnership. Most of them decided right away that they didn't like me for reasons like my anaphylactic peanut allergy preventing him and me from attending the family Thanksgiving because they insisted on deep-frying the turkey in peanut oil. His mother and siblings didn't like me because I wouldn't answer the door if they dropped by unannounced, and because I asked them not to call either of us past 10pm. A lot of his friends didn't like me because I would come home from working all day and get upset that my unemployed boyfriend and his friends were sprawled out on the couch playing video games, and I eventually put a stop to those visits. A very vocal and cruel critic of mine was one of his ex-girlfriends, who had sent naked pictures of herself to him as a "Christmas present" the first year he and I were together. After I innocently found them (we shared passwords/accounts), I questioned why he needed to keep her as a friend, as "friendship" didn't appear to be what she wanted from him. She blasted me as insecure, possessive, controlling, and immature, and for the duration of our entire relationship, she would badmouth me and try to convince him to break up with me - even after we were married. Those are only a few examples of my setting boundaries and the people in my husband's life trampling all over them and then making me seem like I unreasonable, unstable, and undeserving of being with him. We married in 2016. The aforementioned ex-girlfriend begged him not to marry me, one of his siblings refused to attend the wedding because he didn't like me, and five days before my wedding - which was on my parents' 50th wedding anniversary - his mother sent my mother a long letter detailing all the things she didn't like about me. Despite the attempted interferences, we had a beautiful wedding and about two happy years of marriage. The awful treatment of me continued, but I felt I had won: he married me, and I deserved the happiness I was enjoying. In March 2018, during an argument about how sick I was of how his family and friends treated me, he headbutted me. It truly came out of nowhere. He had never been violent in any way before, and whilst we were exchanging angry words - not even yelling - he simply walked over, grabbed my shoulders, and headbutted me, twice. I immediately developed two black eyes and a bump on my forehead. I was devastated, but I didn't tell anyone. We didn't speak about the incident after that night. In August 2018, we were having a heated conversation whilst eating dinner. I don't even remember what we were talking about. But he stood up, walked around the table, grabbed my shoulders, and headbutted me again. This time I had black eyes, a bump, and a gash above my nose. After this incident, I started seeing a therapist, but I didn't want to tell him about the violent incidents because I was concerned that he'd have to report it, and my husband might get arrested. Instead, I unloaded all the frustration about the horrible treatment I received from his family and friends. I also nurtured two of my own friendships I'd had for awhile, with a woman and a man (who didn't know each other). I told them, separately, about the violent incidents. The woman immediately told me about an act of violence (shoving) she experienced with her fiancé, and offered no additional support. The man encouraged me to leave my husband. I also told my parents about the violence, and they did not believe me. In August 2019, my husband slapped and strangled me. I went to urgent care to be treated for the strangulation, and the nurses called the police. My husband wasn't arrested, but he was sent to court due to the police report the urgent care initiated. I decided that I was afraid to live with him, and asked him to move out. My male friend helped me with rent money so I could afford to live on my own. My husband told his friends and family that I'd been having an affair for months, possibly years, which was not true. They believed him, and they believed that they'd been right about me all along - that I was unreasonable, unstable, and undeserving of being with him. His mouthy ex-girlfriend is a psychologist, and she convinced my husband that I have narcissistic personality disorder and that he is the victim. I went to court on his behalf to prevent him from going to jail, though he did need to complete anger courses and pay fines. His family is trying to help him get his record expunged, because they don't think he deserves to have this follow him for the rest of his life. I, however, have to carry the memories of harassment, cruelty, violence, and devastation for the rest of MY life. My therapists in the years since have not diagnosed me with a personality disorder. Rather, I have been diagnosed with PTSD from what one of them called "a lifetime of abuse". I was abused for years by my husband's mother, siblings, ex-girlfriends, friends, and finally by my husband himself. They're right about one thing: I didn't deserve him. I deserved so much better.

Trigger warning. I was sexually abused at the age of 5. My mom’s boyfriend’s uncle took me on a tractor ride with my brother. My mom’s boyfriend’s uncle pulled down my pants and touched me. He dropped me off by the side of the road and took my brother with him. I ran after the tracker, calling my brother’s name. After he picked us both up, he dropped us off back at the house. I told my grandma what happened, and she wanted to call the cops. My mom said she would take care of it. She didn't do anything. The next time I was abused, I was 6. My mom was with someone else. He was my stepdad. He was drunk and got in bed with me naked. I don't remember what happened now, but my mom told me that I told her he raped me, and she said that I was bleeding. When I was 7, my step-sister wouldn't play Barbies with me unless I kissed and massaged her. She was 9. I should have just said no. I don't know what's wrong with me. When I was 14, my mom was dating someone else, and he would always touch me. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He said I was hot; he touched me everywhere, every day for four years. He chased me around the house, trying to get me to sit on his lap. He stood in my room watching me. I was afraid to go to sleep. I was also scared to change into PJs. I didn't want him coming in on me. I stayed up until midnight because that's what time he got up. When I fell asleep, I dreamed of him raping me. When I woke up, my pants were unbuttoned, and the zipper was down. I don't know if he did anything or not in my sleep. I told my mother what happened, but I don't think she wanted to believe it even though she saw him chase me around the house. At age 19, my boyfriend at the time raped me. I didn't want to do anything with him with his son in the room. He didn't take no for an answer, and he tossed me around like a rag doll. He took my phone and wouldn't let me call anyone. He called his two guy friends to take me home. I shouldn't have gone with them, but they didn't touch me. The guy I was dating gave me my phone back when I got in the car, and I called my grandma. After I went to the cops, they didn't do anything. At the age of 22, I was sexually abused again. I don't feel comfortable saying who. He did apologize, though. Watching Law & Order SVU gave me a sense of justice, watching the rapists go to jail. Mariska Hargitay is my hero.

I will not longer live in fear for my self and my sons life. I will no longer be told how ugly and fat I am. I will no longer have him put his hands on me. I will no longer allow bruises on my face. I will no longer let this happen to someone else. I was in a situation where I couldn't leave for a long time and couldn't ask for help. The most fear I have ever been in in my life. But I have a 3-year-old son and NO ONE will ever hurt him the way they hurt me. I am putting a stop to being the victim and taking back control in my own life. One thing that I learned that is the most important to me... Is that you're never alone, and you are beautiful!