Community

This story is not easy to read but it's harder to live. I am a survivor of narcissistic abuse, sexual assault, and systemic failure. I share this not for pity, but for truth. For every woman who's been silenced, dismissed, or retraumatized by the very systems meant to protect her. I write this to reclaim my voice and to help others find theirs. It took me until my fifties to realize my worth. I’d spent decades carrying the weight of a childhood that stripped me of confidence and self-worth. That was heavily influenced by a nefarious dictator who called himself Dad. The physical abuse was bad enough but he managed to see to it that his children sailed into adulthood without knowing our own value, and no self-esteem whatsoever. I still managed to marry, raise children, and hold good jobs. I’m intelligent, I carry myself well. But until recently, no one knew how little I thought of myself—even me. Then came the man who would nearly destroy me. He was younger, persistent, and now I understand: he was conditioning me for narcissistic abuse. What followed was three years of daily trauma. I ugly-cried every single day. That’s over 1,095 days of emotional devastation. By the end, my energy, my vivaciousness, and my tenacity were barely hanging on. He did the most heinous things. He killed my cat. He threatened my life and my children’s lives. He kept me tethered with fear. He destroyed everything I owned—including my 2009 Tahoe, which I used for work and to care for my kids. He blew it up shortly after he sent me to the ICU, fighting for my life. I had refused to give him the name of the hospital or my doctors. I was there for 18 days. It was touch and go every single day. A chaplain visited me daily. Because it was a very Merry Covid Christmas, my teenage sons weren’t allowed to say goodbye. Looking back, I realize that was a blessing—no one spoke death into my children’s lives. God is good. The infection that nearly killed me, and almost costed me my right leg, came from a sexual assault. I went home on a PICC line, receiving grapefruit-sized balls of antibiotics daily, for 6 weeks. My kids administered them. I had four surgeries in three months and a blood transfusion. Two days after I got home, my truck exploded. I was one of those cars you see on the freeway engulfed in flames. After I got out of the hospital and my truck blew up, I knew I had to fight for justice. I had proof—medical records, pictures, witnesses. I had been choked, stabbed, assaulted, and received death threats in writing and on video. I waited a year to file because I was mentally and physically broken. I had nothing left in me. But when I finally did, I thought someone would help me. I thought the system would protect me. It didn’t. The DA never contacted me. Not once. I had to rely on VINE alerts just to know when he was in court. No one told me anything. A judge denied my protective order and called him “honey” and “baby” in the courtroom. I had a strong legal team from a nonprofit, and even they were shocked. They wanted to move the case to another county, but I was scared. I didn’t want to poke the bear. He was still stalking me. Still watching. I was re-victimized by the very people who were supposed to help me. The police ignored my reports. The advocates mocked me. One even made fun of me for asking about a Christmas meal after I had all my teeth pulled from the damage he caused. I had a minor child at home and no food. And they laughed. The Attorney General’s Victims Compensation Office helped with the hospital bill for my teeth removal, but not with replacing them. They wouldn’t relocate me because we didn’t live together—even though he saw me almost every day. They had help, but not for me. He got six days in the county jail. That’s it. No restitution. No accountability. He still knows where I am. He still stalks me on social media as a way of eminding me that someday he will make good on his threat to come after me when I least expect it. I don’t know where he is. And I live with that fear every single day. After the justice system failed me, I had nowhere to turn but inward. I went through three different women’s centers and maxed out every therapy program they offered. I showed up for every session, I showed up for me, and for my two sons who had seen the whole drama play out—even when I could barely speak through the grief. I wasn’t just healing from physical trauma. I was healing from being ignored, dismissed, and re-victimized by the very institutions that were supposed to protect me. And when the therapy ran out, I didn’t stop. I found free entrepreneurship training through Memorial Assistance Ministries, and I poured myself into it—not because I had a business plan, but because I needed something to remind me I still had value. I enrolled in the Navigator program and just being at a feedback meeting at United Way I was able to tap into some education through some of the country's most prestigious universities. I earned certificates from the University of Maryland, the University of Valencia, and even Harvard. I got my graphic design certification and used it to create empowerment products, journals, and visual storytelling pieces that spoke to the pain I couldn’t always say out loud. I earned 17 certificates through the Texas Advocacy Project, becoming a trauma-informed, lived experience advocate. I did all of this while still healing, still growing and approaching my 60th birthday. Now here I am, still unable to find a job. I have all this knowledge, all this training, and nowhere to apply it. I’m still standing. Still creating. Still trying. But the silence from the world around me is deafening. I didn’t just survive—I transformed. And yet, I’m still waiting for a door to open. I’m going to keep writing. Keep pushing. Keep showing up for my health, even when the systems around me make it feel like survival is a full-time job. I haven’t been able to resolve the dental issues yet, and that alone has impacted my confidence, my comfort, and my ability to fully engage in the world. There’s a very real possibility that I’ll be facing a housing crisis in the coming months. Living on disability isn’t sustainable, and the math doesn’t add up no matter how many ways I try to stretch it. But I’m not giving up. I’ve come too far, learned too much, and built too many bridges to stop now. I’m looking for a miracle—not because I’m helpless, but because I’ve done everything I can on my own. I’m ready for a door to open. Ready for someone to see the value in what I’ve built, in what I know, in who I am. I’m not asking for charity. I’m asking for a chance to turn all this lived experience into impact. Into legacy. Into something that finally feels like justice.

Growing up since a young age I’ve always saw “love” from different views. When I got to high school I met a guy, I was 16 years old when he started to abuse me, I loved him & I thought it was okay.. no one at school believed me either. Everyone was his friend & no matter what I said it didn’t matter. No one understands that it stays with you, & trust me it hurts I didn’t think it would hurt still but you carry it. The pain was real, the scars are real, & I carry them. I was so young & scared, you want to know how many times someone asked me well why did you stay? Why didn’t you leave? I don’t know. I will never know, all I know is that I didn’t deserve to carry this hurt.

I was young and naive. I didn't even know what rape was. I sought help from my friends only to be met with all of the "why didn't you...this?" or "why didn't you...that?" From that point on I blamed myself and never spoke about the rape. In my early adulthood, I had a coworker that recognized something in me and she asked me if I had been raped. She offered me support and resources. I still hadn't ever heard of any advocacy programs. At age 25, I applied for a new job working with child abuse victims. Little did I know, but they also worked with victims of domestic violence and sexual assault. I found my healing there and I continue to work there 31 years later. I found my healing and strength through educating the public and advocating for others. As I get older, I get bolder. I no longer fear sharing my story.

We were together for 14 years, married for 11. He still tries to mount a case to take our child away from me even two years out from our initial separation and divorce. His tools: manipulation, confusion/ chaos, coercion, projection, isolation, financial insecurity, doubt, guilt and insecurity, embarrassment and lies. Although he had no friends (biggest red flag ever) he did not act alone. His family actively participated to undermine my sanity, going so far as trying to get me to sign a power of attorney to one of his family members because they “only wanted to help and do what was best for our child”. Not true. Their family motto, “Don’t embarrass the family.” Which translated into do as we say, don’t complain and tell no one because who would believe you anyway. Did he ever hit you? Did he ever threaten your life? How exactly did he hurt you? Didn’t you yell at him? You seem so unstable. I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He was probable in a bad mood/having a bad day/ needs more sleep/ some other lame excuse. You married him so he’s your problem now. Not anymore he ain’t! Thankfully, I am crawling out of that mindset. I am out. I am free. Does he still harass me? Yes. Is it hard as hell out here? Oh, yes it is at times, painful even. I’ve cried oceans of oceans. But thankfully, I feel my strength thanks to kind worlds or actions from many people who did one simple thing….they believed me. When I talked about what I was going through, they believed me. When I talked about what he said to me or what his family said to me or our kid, they believed me. They gave me the courage to start believing in myself. They helped me recognize my strength and help my kid see their strength. It’s been over two years since this process of transformation started. I breathe better and find joy in life again. I am not the terrible person they say I am. I stopped believing their lies and started questioning them. They will not silence me. They will not terrorize me. The kindness I put out into the world and the kindness I receive is my fuel. I am strong, I am brave, I am capable, I can do anything because I am not alone. I will do whatever it takes to always remember I NEVER have to go back to that kind of life, ever. I deserve better. Later Troll.

HOW I STARTED MY HEALING JOURNEY by Name My healing journey began after I spent five years in a narcissistically abusive relationship. It was a constant cycle of hot and cold, back and forth, until I finally got sick of the bullshit and chose to walk away for good. In the beginning, I simply sat with my feelings. I reflected on everything I’d endured and allowed my emotions to flow naturally. It’s easily one of the hardest parts of the process, but you have to let those feelings out for the healing to begin. I then moved on to one of the scariest tasks: breaking down my past. When we look at our trauma as one giant mountain, it just feels like a jumbled mess of chaos. By identifying each experience as its own separate event, it becomes much easier to process. To get these thoughts out of my head, I put them on paper. If you’re starting this journey, get a notebook and write down everything as it comes up. Use it as your primary tool. I began with my most recent experience of narcissistic abuse. I dove into podcasts and articles, desperate to understand what had happened to me and how it was affecting my mental health. Once I understood the 'what,' I started researching the 'how'—as in, how do I heal from this? That’s when I discovered the connection to childhood trauma. It’s a major key to the puzzle because we carry those early experiences into our adult lives. There is so much information available; you just have to find the pieces that fit your life. Healing is deeply individual, and you get to choose the path that works best for you."

Hi there, To anyone still in an abusive or toxic relationship, or healing from one like I am — I want you to know that you are strong enough to break free and to heal. It’s important to remember that none of this is your fault. You don’t have to go through this alone. Speak up, ask for help, and believe in yourself again. I was in an abusive relationship for 8.5 years, and it’s been 9 years since, the time it took me to realize that this isn’t something you have to face by yourself. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self this! Please don’t keep it a secret. People will listen, and you will find your way out and begin to heal. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise. You deserve to be safe, happy, and free. ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

It took 10 years of emotional, physical and financial abuse from a narcissistic man to realize that I stayed because it felt normal. My childhood wasn’t a healthy environment. So when I met my ex his avoidant and violent nature felt right. The gaslighting and love bombing were so common in my childhood home, I didn’t see the red flags when they popped up. Today I’m still struggling with imposter syndrome. How much of it was real affection? How much was more manipulation and lies? I wanted to share this, because sometimes I need to be validated that it all did happen, it wasn’t a fever dream. So I hope this helps someone out there. You’re not alone. What you’re feeling is valid. It’s scary and confusing at first, but it gets so much better. One day at a time. One small healthy decision at a time. It’s not gonna get better overnight, it will take a while. It’s been 1 year since we split, 2 months since the divorce. I’m taking my time to reset my nervous system and figure out who I am, without his narrative over me. You are loved.

Good Day Everyone Reading and Thinking His Projection is Yours, The first thing that I think of is you are stronger than you know, smarter than your thought, and just a better person than the person that abused you. I come from a 30 year marriage to a sociopathic narcissist. There is good news in all this, there was 3 beautiful brillant successful 4.0 children out of it (a police officer, engineer, and systems engineer), and a 4.0 masters degree myself (in behavior analysis). However, it was a rediculously dangerous learning experience that was placed on me on my children from the systems that are suppose to protect you. I want all persons reading this to understand in full, first the domestic violence posters and numbers in every bathroom identify to call for help. But please, first identify all aspects around you, who and what your abuser is capable of, what the behavior and severity of that behavior is before your call, reach out or request a piece of paper called a restraining order. This is only paper and does not protect you or your children from being dead. Only you identifying your danger and safeguarding this protects your children and you from being dead. One thinks in a deceiving fashion that law enforcement interprets all laws the same and enforces them the same. This is not true. Many missing administrative oversights and quality assurance measures are not in place. Please also know, he can track your email addresses, your car, your phone, your job, your purchases, even via your kids. Departments are relying on 'good people' verses data specific quality measures which can allow the perpetrator to triangulate the law, state agencies, your family, friends, your profession, your job, to be inadvertantely controlled by them. My story began 30 years ago with small accounts on yelling, following me to my job, manipulating my friends and family, and extreme jeliousy about every accomplishment I made. To summarize, he began slowly, following to me job after each degree, manipulating my employees/hr, my friends/family. He even went so far as to turn in two states into CMS to try to shut down 2 ICF/IDD facilities. Within this time, black eyes were weekly normals, I once wore a baseball helmet to bed to help, locking me in my car/garage, holding me prisoner. holding my kids and family prisoner until he got what he wanted (generally money) was the norm. So many police reports were filed, restraining orders, one year restraining orders were in place. However, please know this is up the individual officers perceived knowledge, interpretation and experience and DA's not any identifiable interpretation of the law (although the federal law is the overreaching protective safeguard). To make a long story short, in 2012 I had a 500,000 life insurance policy and he hired a hit on my life to occur with a car accident which he pre-planned the 'lunch date' many months in advance. This occurred after I placed my first reporting to police of his abuse and he was arrested. After this, all episodes of aggression towards me included strangulation and attempts to place all his weight to crush my trachia. The second visible attempt, came one day in 2013/2014 when I arrived at work early one morning, and he drove by my nitro and fired a few rounds into the back of my vehicle. He then launched a full social smear campaign and he began to contact my supervisors, peers, entire state dd providers, and engaged his sister to do the same us wide to harrass, embarrass and ruin me as he so threatened daily to do. The third attempt to kill me involved him and his sister crafting a car accident which occurred that resulted in killing another women. This also involved the quite angered threat of a jeep, which was saved my life in the first crash he attempted to kill me in and is now mis-using the law to obtain money from. The bottom line is, take your kids, plan a new life and LEAVE NOW!!!!!!!. Protect and respect yourself your children. These types of persons are sociopaths and what they do does not make any form of common sense or beliefs. They are criminals and will not stop until they harm you and your kids. This man met me at the age of 5 in a chance encounter and I am still running away from him at the age of 48. Center yourself, get trauma therapy, keep your center and re-build yourself/life/children's future. God bless everyone that has been through these types of situations and god bless all that are going through this. Please know that there are people that believe in you and want nothing more than your success and beautiful brillant future of your children. You've got this!!! Please find knowledge and information helpful for your future success. God Bless!!!!

I was with a man i thought was my forever he turned abusive 1 year in we were together for 11 years before I got out I had 3 kids with him and kept telling my self it was my falut he was verbal physical mental and sexual abusive

back in the summer of date i was 12 years old mom, dad, and myself went to city for a week o see my grandparents because i was summer break from school and we were having a cookout when relavives from my grandmothers side of the family came down to see her, they stayed at the ramada inn down the the road from my grandparents house, when it happened, after dinner i excused myself from the table so i could stretch my legs and i started going into the woods to go see the deer that were not far from my grandparents house, when lee came following behind me and took me by the arm further into the woods so nobody would be able to see what was about to happen, he made me strip naked and touched my naked body including my penis and my genitals and said to me this is how people have sex then he pulled his pants and boxers down and made me feel his penis and made me try to swollow it and threatened me by say dont you tell your parents or grandparents about this or i will say that you are lying about it so i never say a thing about it, then the next day he found me behind the house looking down the hill at the 18 wheelers going by on the interstate and took me into the basement forced me to take off my clothes and then forced me to masturbate well its a was good thing that i kept myself from ejaculating sperm because the basement floor was dirt and had my grandmother asked me about why the floor was wet i would have had to tell her because i could never lie to my grandmother because of our special bond between grandma and grandson, so once i got dressed again i walked around spread dirt all over where my bare feet were this way she had no idea about what had happened, to this day i wish i had told them because then that bastard would have died in prison but he has since passed away a very painful death so i dont ever have to worry about him ever again.

This is long but I need to tell my story. I have to get it out of me. Almost 2 years ago my whole world was flipped upside down. My ex husband had had a couple of emotional affairs earlier in our relationship. I tried seeking therapy. His mom told me it wasn’t necessary at that time. Just a bump in the road. He was physical with me as well. I tried asking for help but I was afraid. I stupidly listened to his family and hid the truth from my own because I didn’t want them to worry. I had sacrificed years of my life, burned myself out, and completely lost who I was so that he could tour with his band. We fought a lot. I became frustrated with him that he was never home. He never wanted to do anything family related. When I begged him through tears to just do something with our son and I at least once a month, he told me I was being stupid. He never helped me around the house or with our son. His drinking began to worry me and cause problems. And he was consistently interacting and being wildly inappropriate with girls online (most of them being much younger than him). Every argument we had was about one of those issues. We moved soon after. To try and start fresh. To move past the “bump in the road”. Then almost 2 years ago, he came home from a work trip. He frequently traveled for work. He started pressuring me into sex. I was still affectionate but told him I was just tired from taking care of the house and our son on my own all week, on top of working a busy job. We argued. I felt like shit at the end of it. If I had just put out we wouldn’t have argued. The next morning, he dropped a bombshell on me. “I’m bored” he said. I asked him what does that mean? I didn’t understand. My stomach dropped. He proceeded to tell me how he had been looking into polyamorous relationships and he wanted us to be in one. I asked him question after question in a desperate attempt to understand where this was coming from and why this was happening. Was it just a sexual fantasy? Something that could only be fulfilled by another woman? Did he just want to be with someone new and not me altogether? He needed his “cups filled” as he so eloquently put it. I didn’t understand. He confirmed he wanted a full on relationship with someone else. To bring a third party into our home. By the end of the conversation I told him that I did not want that and that was not what I signed up for. That if that’s what he wanted then we would have to separate. He became frustrated by my answer and told me to forget about it. I told him I felt like there was something that he wasn’t telling me. Then he told me about the affair. An affair that apparently happened a whole year and a half prior (right before the trip we took with his family) . He hid it from me for that long and god only knows what else. I was beyond devestated. I felt like I died that day. He begged me to stay. Begged me to reconcile. After a short amount of time I agreed. Within the first week of our reconciliation, he told me that he had gone through his FB and deleted all the random girls. He was friends with so many because he just loves people he would say. He was very popular from being in so many bands as well. He said there was a girl who he had become good friends with. He said it was nothing inappropriate. She lived in our hometown that we had just moved from. We did have a lot of mutual friends with her as well. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable with it. She is a decade younger than him. Why was she having conversations with a married man? A couple of days later, she sent me a message on FB. She told me how he had told her how I felt uncomfortable. She apologized and talked about how she just had a lot of different friends and socialized with a lot of different people. I chalked it up to her just being young and dumb. Over the next couple of months, she began reaching out to talk to me more. I opened up to her and told her how my husband and I were in a reconciliation phase. I told her about my pain and healing. I told her about my insecurities he had caused. She told me about her dreams to move away. She told me about her boyfriend, we’ll call him “John” for the sake of the story. She complained how he was allegedly terrible to her. Then one day she called and said that she had broken up with John and she had moved out. My husband said we should fly her out to our home. He said we should let her stay with us for the weekend. To let her get her head straight and help her out. I told him no. I told him I was still struggling with healing and it wasn’t a good time. He told me that he wanted to help people and I was stopping him from doing that. After many arguments, he bought he a plane ticket without even asking. I felt sick. He clearly liked this girl. I started coming to the realization that I wanted a divorce. He was calling me crazy. He invalidating my feelings and healing process at every turn. I could barely eat or sleep. My health was affected in every way. It still feels like a fever dream. The next thing I knew, she was at our house. I have to summarize the rest because it’s still too difficult to talk about. But basically I ended up kicking them both out of the house and I told him I wanted a divorce. The next thing I knew, he had bought a camper and moved her up to our new residential state. I finally started listening to my intuition. When I found out he was moving her up and that they had gotten together, I decided to call her ex boyfriend, John. She had broken up with him only a few days before she had come to our house. I knew something wasn’t right. To summarize, after hours of talking between John, a mutual friend, and I, we had pieced together the truth. My ex husband had been flying her out on his work trips for the past year (that we know of) and they had been sleeping together. So the entire time she was reaching out to me to befriend me, she had already been sleeping with my husband for over a year. And to make it worse she was an addict. I felt myself break all over again. The last year since then, has consisted of a lengthy and drawn out (by him) divorce battle. I ended up finding out about at least 2 other psychical affairs. A friend reached out to me and told me how he had been inappropriate with another friend and made them uncomfortable. The rest of the divorce process is a different story. Maybe for another time. For now it is over and I do not regret how hard I fought to end it or to keep my son safe from an addict and psycholocally abusive mistress. I will never regret all of the work, tears, and begging that I did just to try and get the people that say they loved me and my son to keep someone like that out of our lives. I will never understand how they had the audacity to tell me they didn’t think she was dangerous to be around my son after they saw so much physical evidence with their own eyes. It physically makes me feel sick. They watched as their son called me crazy. Only to find out I was right all along. They watched as he bought a camper for him and his mistress before I had even filed for divorce. They watched as he continued to test me with hate and animosity and then used my traumatized reactions against me. I begged them through tears, pain, and yelling to do more. I begged for them to advocate for my son and I both. I begged them to stand up for us and tell their son what he was doing was wrong and to stop. I begged for them to help me end a divorce that I didn’t ask for. My ex feels justified in what he did to me though. He literally told me “we’re not divorced because I cheated. We’re divorced because we fought all the time and weren’t right for each other”. All the fights about how he was cheating and never around/helping me raise our son. I didn’t drive him to cheat, abuse, and destroy me. These weren’t mistakes that he made, these were decisions that he made and carried out for a very long time. These were intentional. He gave no room for healing with his continued hatefulness towards me. And he and his family used my traumatized reactions as his excuse for squirming out of any and all accountability. Every action he has taken since I filed for divorce has been only to discredit me and make himself feel justified. It’s easier for them to make me the scapegoat than for them to show shame or accountability. They bond over denial and hide in each other’s shadows. I still have a lot of shame and regret that I am working on healing through for trusting and believing in these people. It is a long hard process. The pain is lifelong. But I am thankful that now I know. Now I know what love DOESNT look like. I know what integrity DOESNT look like. I take responsibility in the fact that I should have left long ago and I put up with too much. I am responsible for losing myself the way that I did. I know that I did what I thought was right in my heart and I loved my ex as I promised I would when we made the commitment of marriage to each other. I worked hard to keep my family together but the reality is sometimes unity is not the healthiest or safest option. I stayed because I truly believed things would get better. That he would get better. That he would finally choose us. But the lesson kept repeating itself until I learned that I was wrong and I needed to let go in order to live a happy and healthy life for my son and I. I have learned so much and I hope that I can pass these lessons on. I hope that I can help even just one person not go through what I went through. And I’m hopeful that the lessons I continue to learn throughout this process will help light the way to a road of health, healing, and safety. I now feel safe to speak up and tell my story after so many years of silence and brokenness. I’m thankful to come home to a house that is no longer filled with hate and selfishness. Thankful that I don’t have to walk on egg shells everyday. I can create my own peace now.

Es fängt an im Teenager-Alter. Ich war 14 und mit meiner Freundin unterwegs - wir wollten dazu gehören. Oftmals wurden wir überredet und genötigt sexuelle Handlungen vorzunehmen: Zuerst mit Alkohol und Cannabis "abgefüllt und willig" gemacht werden, dann stetiges überreden zu sexuellen Handlungen bis hin zur Androhung von Gewalt. Sagte ich nein, so wurde mein "Ruf" geschändet und im ganzen Dorf sprach man über mich, wie über eine Hure. Es waren viele Männer, immer die gleiche Masche. Ich fühle mich schuldig, da ich kaum verstand, dass das nicht richtig ist und "normal" ist. Immer wieder suchten die Täter gezielt Situationen, um diese auszunutzen.  Meinen ersten Freund hatte ich mit 16. Er nötigte mich, mein 1. Mal zu haben, als ich betrunken war. Ich habe mich danach schrecklich gefühlt und hatte Schmerzen. Ich hatte ein strenges Elternhaus, oft Hausarrest, wollte aber dazu gehören und Freunde haben. So lief ich oft weg und feierte oftmals mit meiner Freundin und geriet in gefährliche Situationen. Wir sind z.B. per Anhalter gefahren: 3 Männer haben uns nicht aus dem Auto gelassen, uns in Gegenden gefahren, die wir nicht kennen, uns nicht raus gelassen. Ich schlief dann dort in einem Bett, damit wir am nächsten Tag mit dem Taxi heim können. Im Schlaf bemerkte ich dann, dass ein Penis in mir steckte - ich bin davon aufgewacht. Von einem Mann, den ich nicht kannte und mind. 10 Jahre älter als ich war. Ich war zu dem Zeitpunkt 17. Ich erstarrte und lies es über mich gehen, in der Hoffnung es passiert mir nicht mehr. Mein zweiter Freund nahm mich mit zu seinem besten Freund. Er wollte dort Sex haben - ich fühlte mich dazu gezwungen, da ich sonst nicht heimkäme. Dabei kam sein bester Freund dazu, war wohl eine abgesprochene Sache (nur ohne mich). Ich hatte keine Möglichkeit nein zu sagen oder zu entkommen. Ich ließ es über mich ergehen. Ich wusste es nicht besser. Ein anderes mal war ich ebenfalls in einer Clique draußen unterwegs. Sie wollten rumfahren, ich fuhr mit. Dann war ich mit einem Mann allein in der Wohnung. Er sperrte mich ein und wollte mich zum Sex überreden. Ich entkam, indem ich mich stark gewehrt hatte. Er drohte mir Gewalt an. Ich stand an der Straße, wusste nicht wo ich war - über 1 Std. weg von meinem zu Hause. Eine Frau nahm mich dann per Anhalter mit. Mit 20 lag ich oftmals am nahgelegenem See und genießte das Wetter. Drei Vorfälle gab es am See: beim 1. Mal stand nackt ein Mann hinter mir und befriedigte sich selbst. Beim zweiten Mal, an einem anderen Tag legte sich ein Mann nackt nur ein Meter entfernt von mir sich hin. Er war locker 50 Jahre alt. Ich erstarrte und hatte Todesangst, das wenn ich mich bewege, er näher kommt und mir was antut. Erst als eine weitere fremde Person auftauchte, zog er sich an. Beim dritten mal, ähnliches und ich schrieb meiner Freundin, dass sie bitte kommen soll. Als sie kam, ging der Mann davon. Im Urlaub war ich mit einer Freundin unterwegs, wir waren 24. Es entblösste sich ein kleiner alter Mann vor uns, zeigte seinen nackten Penis und rief, ob wir Sex haben wollen.  Mit 25 hatte ich eine Affäre. Der Mann wurde beim Sex so aggressiv, beginn mich stark zu schlagen und zu würgen. Ich sagte, das ich das nicht möchte - er ignorierte mich. Ich fühle mich dermassen missbraucht. Von einem weiteren Freund lies ich mich in einen "Sex"Club überreden. Ich dachte, ich bin cool und kann das und das das normal ist und von einem erwartet wird. Dort wurde ich extrem begafft und von extrem älteren Männern angefasst. Anschließend sagte mein Freund mir, dass ich schmutzig sei (andere haben mich angefasst und ich sei dafür verantworltich) - er könne nun nicht mehr mit mir zusammen sein.  Ich war in Mallorca im Urlaub mit 25 und buchte eine Ferienwohnung über AirBnB. Der Host war sehr freundlich, es war seine 2. Wohnung die er stetig vermietet- so stand es online. Ich war dort immer allein und fühlte mich wohl. Da ich die ganze Wohnung gebucht hatte, sperrte ich das Schlafzimmer nicht ab. In der letzten Nacht wachte ich von einer Berührung auf: Plötzlich saß der "freundliche" Vermieter nackt an meinem Bettrand und streichelte mein Bein. Ich war so perplex und fragte ihn, was das soll. Er meinte nur, er habe seinen Schlüssel verloren. Ich zeigte auf meinen und sagte ihm, er solle diesen nehmen und raus gehen. Erst nachdem ich mehrmals ihn aufgefordert habe zu gehen, lies er von mir ab. Ich war in Panik danach. Es waren "nur" noch 4 std, bis ich zum Flughafen musste. Ich packte dennoch sofort meine Sachen und floh aus der Wohnung. Er wollte mir dann dabei noch behilflich sein - und akzeptierte mein Nein nicht. Als ich rausging, sah ich, dass die Besenkammer offen stand und dort eine Matratze etc. lag - ich glaube, dass er dort heimlich jede Nacht geschlafen hat. Ekelhaft, ich hoffe es ist mir nicht mehr passiert. Ich schrieb ihm eine schlechte Rezension und erzählte dies öffentlich und meldete es der Plattform. Er stellte mich als notgeil da, dass ich lügen würde und das ich was von ihm wollte.  Mit 25 war ich mit guten langjährigen Freunden auf einem Geburtsag. Wir übernachteten dort auf einem Sofa: ich alleine auf einem Zweisitzer, ein "guter Freund" und seine Freundin auf dem angrenzendem Sofa. Dann bemerkte ich im Schlaf einen Finger in mir und wachte auf. Als ich sah, dass er mich anfasste, sprang ich auf und schloss mich ins Bad ein. Ich konfontierte ihn damit, er verhamrloste es. "Ich hätte es gewollt". Seine Freundin bekam nichts mit. Doch diesmal schwieg ich nicht! Und war das erste mal stolz auf mich: Ich öffente mich Freunden und erzählte davon. Rückhalt war hier wenig zu finden. Ich erzählte seiner Freundin davon, sie verteidigte ihn. Seine zwei besten Kumpels ebenso und es wurde totgeschwiegen. Heute sprechen mich Fremde darauf an, nur wegen "sensationsgeilheit" und glauben mir nicht - schließlich war ich ja früher für meinen "Ruf" bekannt. Meine Perspektive der damaligen Zeit meines "Rufes" interessiert sie nicht  - schließlich bin ich schon immer extrovertiert, kontatkfreudig, "reizvoll" gekleidet und an allem selber Schuld. Ich würde mich immer anbieten. Ich hasse es so sehr, ich möchte nicht an die Zeit erinnert werden. Es war Winter, ich 29 Jahre alt: Meine Oma hatte einen Schlaganfall und musste an den Rollstuhl gegurtet werden, kann nicht sprechen oder sich bewegen. Ich lief mit ihr im Park spazieren. Es war Mittags gegen 15h und hatte einen langen Mantel, Schal etc. an. Auf einer Anhöhe tat ich mir schwer, den Rollstuhl hoch zu schieben. Es kam ein fremder, alter Mann mit Hund und fragte, ob er mir helfen kann. Ich lehnte höflich ab. Er kam dennoch hinter mich, fasste mich am Po an und schob mich hoch. Ich konnte kaum glauben, was ich da erlebe. Er ging erst von mir weg , als ich lauthals sagte, dass ich es alleine schaffe. Passanten waren unterwegs - niemand bemerkte meine hilflose Situation.

For years, I thought I had escaped the horrors of my childhood. My father’s overt abuse was a storm—loud, angry, impossible to ignore. So when I met him—the man who seemed so different—I thought I had finally found safety. He wasn’t my father. He didn’t yell or scream or raise a hand every other day. At first, he was kind, charming even. I thought everything was great. But over time, the cracks started to show. The cold, distant days where I felt like an inconvenience. The subtle digs and underhanded comments that weren’t enough to call mistreatment but were just enough to make me doubt myself. I’d lie awake at night, crying, unable to understand why I felt so anxious and stressed. I told myself it wasn’t that bad. After all, he wasn’t my father. Yet, deep down, I knew. I knew he could hurt me if I ever pushed too far, and that fear controlled me. As the years passed, the emotional manipulation evolved into something far darker. What started as control turned into sexual abuse. At first, I didn’t see it for what it was—maybe I didn’t want to see it. I clung to the idea that things would get better, that I could fix it, that it wasn’t as bad as it felt. But the progression was undeniable. I couldn’t look away anymore. By the time it ended, I found myself at a police station, hoping for justice, for someone to finally stand up for me. But nothing was done. Nothing. I left that station with no real resolution, but I did leave. That was the day I decided to start over. Healing wasn’t immediate. It’s still day by day. But now I get to choose what my days look like. I am no longer silent. I am no longer hiding. The mask I wore for years is gone, and I speak openly about what I endured, not because it’s easy, but because someone needs to hear it. Someone out there needs to know that they’re not alone, that their perfect-looking marriage may not be so perfect, and that they deserve better. I poured my story into a book, Book Title. It’s not just a story about abuse; it’s a call to recognize the subtle signs, to question the system that so often fails victims, and to challenge the way society dismisses our pain. I know how hard it is to rise, but I also know it’s possible. If you’re in that darkness, know this: you can rise too. Healing isn’t easy, but it’s worth it. And every day, you have the power to choose a better life. Because still, I rise. And so can you.

I just filed a protection order in January. I have held on because I saw the hurt child within my partner and so it was easy to rationalize why he had negative behaviors. The last straw was when he apparently didn’t want me in the garage so he kicked over tools that were stored in totes and picked up an Axe and shattered a mirror. He looked at me while holding the Axe and I just retreated and created space because I didn’t want to create a reason for his anger to escalate any further. I am filing for divorce and am hoping to get sole custody as I want our son to have a safe and healthy childhood and my soon to be ex husband cannot provide that at this time. I pray he can heal but I cannot save an Adult as I cannot cause someone else to choose healing. Last I heard he is running around town looking to get high. I think he might just be reckless in his actions and emotions at this time. I have anxiety but I lock my doors and when he did violate the protection order he did go to jail so I hope that is motivation for him to not break it again but I’m not sure if it is or not. I was going through my google account and saw videos that he was putting cameras in our closet or bedroom which he did not notify me off. I also had to cut so much outside friends or people in general because he assumed the worst as others may be seeking inappropriate relationships with me, but that was never the case. I know he is most likely playing the victim but the patched holes in the wall the broken door frame and the shattered mirror tell a different story. If he wants to blame me that’s fine. My peace, safety and happiness is more important and my children deserve safe home.

It's been 2 years since I got away from my abuser, he was the first to abuse me and I have struggled through my recovery from all of it and learning to live my life on my terms has been both amazing and scary I am a survivor of physical, sexual and mental, emotional abuse my abusers this is the first time in my life I am free of abuse and living my life the way I always dreamed of, please don't ever give up I didn't and now I have the most amazing life I still have things i am working through but i am a survivor and I am happy

At the tender age of 9 I was molested by a family member. This went on for 3 years. When I did mention it to my immediate family I broke down and was admitted to the hospital for a period of 48 hours. I was truly saddened and really felt alone. I carried this burden on for over 20 something years where afterwards I befriended someone that physically abused me. I ignored the red flags and in order to keep my children safe I told the perpetrator that I will stay. He would hit me in the back of my head many times to this day I have a small protruding disc in the back of my skull. The last incident when I knew that I couldn't take anymore and that my children would be safe is when he tried to throw me down my stairs after straddling me while choking me. I prayed and I asked God for strength. This was in Date. I found the strength to heal, seek therapy and start my own nonprofit (Nonprofit name) which serves Women and Children of domestic violence with temporary shelter, counseling, and 10-week trauma sessions. I now know my Worth and I know that I am a Woman that matters.

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!

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.

At 19 years old and away from home for the first time…I thought I was in love. I married someone I barely knew. I met him at Military Training, and we got stationed in the same city. I wanted a wedding, but he did not so we ended up at the Justice of the Peace. This was one of the first of many things I did to compromise. Shortly after we were married, his true colors started showing. Slowly, I was isolated, moved away from all my friends and family. I could not do anything right. Everything was my fault. No matter how hard I tried it was never good enough. He forced me to watch pornography and forced me to do things sexually that I had not consented to. Yes, a spouse can rape their spouse. I was called all sorts of names, mocked, belittled, insulted, and worse. It was mostly behind closed doors; however, some was done in public. We would only hang out with my friends and family when he wanted to put on a show. At one point he moved his “friend” in with us because she had nowhere to go. After being diagnosed with an STD, I learned she was one of many women that he cheated on me with. She was his mistress in every sense of the word. At some point I lost who I was and began to think I was exactly who he said I was…worthless, ugly, and nothing. I was living in a fog. I could not make sense of my feelings or thoughts. I had no idea what to do to make him happy because no matter how much I tried to do what I thought he said he wanted it was never right. I attempted suicide which surprised my family, friends, and co-workers because I had never said a word. I had been able to put on a smile and always help others during the workday. No one knew the verbal, emotional or sexual abuse I endured at home. After my suicide attempt my family, and the few friends that still stood by me tried to get me to leave. I refused to leave. I was insistent that could make my marriage work. If I only tried harder. If I were only the person, he wanted me to be. Then, out of the blue, he was arrested, court-martialed, and sent to military prison (on matters unrelated to the marriage). I still tried to make things work. I would go visit him in jail, take care of our home, pay the bills, and try to be a “good wife”. One day he called asking for things he wanted. When I told him that I had not bought the requested items because I was looking for a part-time job to pay the bills (we had mounds of debt thanks to him), he called me “undependable”. It was in that moment I finally realized I deserved more. I yelled into the phone “You’re right; I’m undependable!” and hung up the phone. I then took off my engagement and wedding rings and proceeded to throw them across the living room into the kitchen where they came to rest under the washer and dryer. The next day I contacted a lawyer and within a few weeks we were divorced. We had been married for one year and four months and had known each other for one year and nine months. In less than two years this man had broken me to the point that I no longer knew who I was and kept me from making new friends at my duty assignment. The only friends I had at this point were some old friends from high school that I did not see often but they refused to be pushed away. His actions caused me to spiral into a pit of depression so severe that I thought the only answer (or way out) was to take my own life. Throughout my first marriage, I had a friend who told my first ex-husband to back off and that he was going to stay my friend no matter what. He kept his word and continued to always be there for me during my marriage. When I told him, I was getting divorced, he took leave and came to stay with me for a week so he could be in the courtroom with me during the divorce hearing. 2 years and 7 months later this friend and I were married. Like my first husband, I also met him at military training. Our whole relationship had been long distance except for the few months at military training and that one week during my divorce. We spent the first year of marriage apart waiting for the military to station us together. We got pregnant the first weekend we were finally living together. Once we were living together, his true personality quickly emerged. He was always on the computer due to video games and/or pornography. He could not be bothered to help if he was on the computer. He would yell when he was not happy. I called to say I was in premature labor with our child and he did not come to the hospital. Once the baby arrived, I would ask for help, but he could not be bothered because he was busy. As time went on, the yelling, silent treatment, name calling, not helping around the house, and just ignoring me only seemed to get worse. Then he got deployed. I discovered he was having at minimum one online affair and saying all sorts of hateful and nasty things about me. I confronted him, and he acted like it was not a big deal. I felt differently. It was a big deal to me, so I left. I filed for a divorce. He spent months sweet talking me until I foolishly took him back. At this point we were now both out of the military. We bought a house, and he went to school. I worked full-time, tried to go school, and took care of the house and our child. He still seldom helped with anything. I had to pay for childcare because our child bothered him while he was doing his schoolwork. The name calling, silent treatments and ignoring only got worse. I noticed he was punishing our child in ways that were not appropriate for a toddler and expecting things beyond a toddler’s capability. I started having panic attacks when I pulled into the garage after work because I did not know which personality I was going to meet when I walked in the house: Mr. Happy or Mr. Angry. His behavior after we moved in together did not match the behavior of the friend who was there for me during my first marriage; he had changed – or had he? He stopped telling me how much he loved me and how much he needed me and proceeded to tear me down or not talk to me at all. I had reached that all too familiar point where I was again in a fog and not sure what to do because everything, I did was wrong…unless he wanted something. I felt like I was walking on eggshells at home all the time. I remember he said something to me at a store one day and a woman made eye contact with me…her look said, “Honey, just say the word and I will help you escape”. I just quickly looked away. The final straw was coming home from work one day and finding my usually very active child sitting very still on the couch. When I asked what was wrong, my child said, “Daddy slapped across both cheeks for playing in some mud with the dog.” I confronted him and told him he had three choices: get help, leave or I was calling the police. He chose to leave and blame me for making him “poor and homeless”. Seven months after we separated, we were divorced. We had been married for eight years and ten months. We had known each other for ten years and seven months. He had gone from being one of my best friends to a total stranger who left me feeling even more empty and broken than my first husband had. It is hard to put into words the slow way both individuals managed to tear me down to nothing, to the point that I felt like I had nothing left to live for. Unlike my first marriage, the second time it was not just me. I had to protect my child. Both used verbal and emotional abuse to slowly control me and make me feel like nothing, make me question my sanity, and make me believe I was a complete idiot and loser. One of them used sex as a weapon for his pleasure and another withheld touch of any kind knowing that it is one of my Love Languages. Both could be kind when it suited them to make them look good or to get what they wanted. Thanks to both of these individuals I now know gaslighting, love bombing, flying monkeys, triangulation, projection, threats (both threatened to kill me), trauma-bonding and more are all part of a Narcissist’s play book. It was not me who was crazy or not worthy. They used these tools to get what they wanted and then tossed me to the side when I was no longer needed. Now that I know what these actions and terms mean I have been able to educate myself on how to recognize the signs, heal from the trauma and reach a point where I am able to share my story of survival. I had no idea who I was, what I liked, how to live a happy life or how to be strong. I could put on a good show for the outside world, or so I thought. I have since learned that my family and close friends could tell things were wrong. They were praying for me and standing close for when I finally reached out for help. When I look back over both marriages, I see God’s hand in them, and I know that it is because of Him that I am still here to tell my story. My first ex-husband walked in on me with the pills in hand and a razor blade at my wrist. For all the bad he did God used him to save my life by having him walk-in at that exact moment. He reported me to the military thinking it would get me in trouble but instead it saved my career and my life. His going to jail allowed me to get away. During my second marriage I can honestly say that the only reason I was able to get away is truly a miracle. I believe the prayers of my loved ones were answered by giving me a strength that came only from God, allowing me to stand up to him and give him those three choices after he slapped our child. How did I escape and repair my spirit? How did I find me again and become happy, strong, out-going, courageous, stand my ground, and know my own worth? I did it through the mercy, forgiveness, and love of God. I have spent hours in prayer and bible study. I have gone to Christian based counseling. I have shared my story with others. It has been a long road to recovery, but I know now I am a child of God and I am worth more than what those two individuals did to me. I will never settle again. Never settle for less than you are worth. You are worth more than all the rubies and diamonds in the world. You are His child. You are loved. You are beautiful. You are strong. You can. You will Survive.

My mom was Lily Bloom and I’m her Emerson but sadly it did not end there . I wish I could have not fallen for the charm or been blinded by the red flags but like my mom nobody saw the signs . My mom wasn’t able to leave and she wasn’t able to tell her story. But after sharing with her the trauma I endured from these past two insanely manipulating, toxic , abusive relationships . She was finally able to tell me I wasn’t alone , and my father was her Ryle , and like all Ryles they say they can change . But they won’t . Thankfully my mom and I both left our Ryles and found comfort in being each others safe place .