Community

I was sexually abused by my father when I was 8 years old. Once I got a bit older I realized the damage that it was bringing to my life. At 15 I finally told my mom what my own father did to me. In my early 30s I began going to church faithfully and that’s when I finally forgave him. Fast forward to when I turned 35 I received a phone call that my dad had been arrested for something similar. And currently at the moment I am fighting for justice once more. Hoping that finally this can be put in the past.

The first sexual assault I went through was when I was 12 years old and my first ever boyfriend I had at the time Raped me he was 14 years old at the time I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him he ended up pushing me on his bed and he ended up raping me I couldn’t even get him off cause he was very heavy & hurting me. I got sexually assaulted when I was 16 years old old and the guy who did it was 22 years old and it was a painful experience when he grabbed my boobs. The third and fourth times I was sexually assaulted from my then boyfriend he was also physically abusive towards me as well he used to always punch me in my stomach and he would hit me on my neck & shoulder I was eventually able to get out of the relationship I am a survivor of rape I am a survivor of sexual assaults I am a survivor of domestic violence as well

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.

Feel guilty for being so affected by something that is no where near the horrible stories other people have shared. I wasn’t raped or beaten but my experience with a classmate that went to far, has shaped my life in a way I wish I could change, but don’t feel strong or courageous enough to do so. My story begins in 10th grade where my drama class (of 40 or 45 students and 3 teachers) was on our way to a trip from Location to Location 2by bus. My first mistake was to sit at the back of the bus because I thought it would be the quietest place on the bus, my second mistake was to take the window seat… At first most students in the back was high on red bull but when they crashed the whole bus got quiet and only 4/5 students was awake, one of them was the biggest and tallest guy at school, he sat down next to me and started talking about random stuff, I didn’t talk much cause I was afraid that some would wake up and be angry with me(I was never the popular kid at school, so I never wanted to step on anyone’s toes) I was extremely tired myself so I was just trying to stay awake to be polite and answered his questions. After a while he’s hand started to slowly move on to my lap, I pushed him off several times and asked him to stop because I really wanted to sleep, but he keep going and it just worsened for every time I pushed him off, he started be move his hands further up under my shirt and further down my pants. I was terrified to speak up because I knew no one would believe me if I said something. I was afraid that if the teachers found out about it, that they would blame me (of all the other girls on the buss why would he touch me?) . As I was trying to push I’m off, I got eye contact with a female classmate a few seats behind me on the other side of the buss, (she was one of hi’s really good friends) i tried to signal to her that I wasn’t comfortable with what he was doing, but she just lifted her hands and shoulders like she was saying ”what do you want me to do about it” And I just remember feeling like my whole body froze to ice after that. I don’t know for how long this whole episode lasted but it felt like an eternity, I couldn’t move, and couldn’t say anything, and that person who could have said something didn’t. I honestly don’t know what was worse, what he did or what she didn’t, I’ve never felt so violated or betrayed. That experience really affected me in a way that makes it really hard to trust other people, I have a hard time believing others, I have never had a boyfriend, I’m 29 now, but the fear of anyone getting to close to me gives me bad anxiety, because if I couldn’t stop a teenager from touching me in a buss wish 40 other students and 3 teachers, how could I ever stop an adult man if we are alone behind closed doors? I know not all men are like him, but i am just scared that if happens again that it won’t “just” be forceful touching but worse. And I think that, that’s what’s keeping me from the future that I otherwise would have loved to have. I wish I knew what it would fell like to get a kiss on the forehead, to hold someone hand or just the feeling of being safe with someone. I no longer use public transportation, but when I do have to get on a plane I always make sure to get the aisle seat, so that I can get away if someone gets too close. If you’ve read this far, I thank you for taking time to listening to my story, I’ve never talked about it before, I guess it’s much easier to tell complete strangers than some I know (for the fear of being judged) I want to heal that old wound but don’t quite know how to do so, I guess telling my story is the first step.

It ended with me. I remember the day my mother slammed my head into the floor until I bled, I was 9. I remember her nails digging so deep into my arm that I hid the cuts and bruises they left, I was 12. I remember my dad protecting me as soon as he understood, I was 14. I remember it because I live it every day, even though it hasn’t happened in 6 years. A survivor is a survivor for the rest of their life, no one gets to take their strength away from them anymore. They know how much it’s worth.

I have been sexually, physically and mentally abused since I was a child. My mother took my sister and I from our real father as babies and married a man who would abuse my sister and I for ten years, then divorced him because he cheated on her. This man would make my sister and I take our pants down and whip us with a leather belt. My mother would coerce him to do so, stating we deserved it because we were “bad”. All we ever heard growing up is how “bad”we were. They would send us away upstate to his cousins house for the entire summer, you know because we were so bad. His cousin, a (occupation) at (place) as well as a (occupation) would molest us and when we told them, they said we were liars, and again the bad stigmatization was embedded in our young teenage minds. This is just one abuse story, and the beginning of a long series of abuse I would endure over my lifetime. Almost every relationship, whether it romantic, platonic, or family, my trauma has touched, infected and I began to believe it must be true, I am just bad. On (date)I would be strangled twice, battered and almost die at the hands of a lover,. After months of denial and physically healing from the assault I finally had the courage to come forward and press charges. That is the day my healing journey began, after so many years of abuse I finally confronted my abuser. Now, I try to live minute to minute and some minutes are better than others, but I have grit. Resilience is my superpower! I am a survivor not a victim. I already feel better just typing this. I was looking for a safe place to release, thank you 💕

Remember those 80s rom-coms? The struggling, mysterious soul, charming yet obviously troubled? Tough guy exterior, Jud Nelson type with a soft heart. He is exciting, but he is also a big wall of red flags? Yeah that’s what I thought was love. The first time, we had just started seeing each-other and he was helping me shop for a cute outfit. I tried on a top that was cute but absolutely not too revealing. He said absolutely not, so I stood my ground ( his objections were baseless and I’d never been told this by anyone). We were seeing MY best friends and their boyfriends, people I had partied with and hung out with for YEARS before meeting him- I wasn’t meeting his parents. I wasn’t going to church. And I absolutely looked just fine. He stormed out and left me at the mall by myself. I walked home and finally he chased me down as I was almost home and dropped to his knees crying apologizing for what he did and said. We had great sex and argument was over. The cycle continued. I spoke to someone too long ( my friends nerdy cousin about my upbringing- nothing gross or inappropriate- he just thought it was cool and was talking to me with ny ex right there) my ex - now husband - refused to hold my hand and told me my touch made his skin crawl- why was I flirting with that guy? I am in shock thinking we’d had a great day in the city and made new friends. Then the emotional abuse and withdrawal from sex almost immediately followed after we got married. He wasn’t turned on by me, he’s dated more petite girls… I went on diets. He still withheld sex and affection and I started to become a shell of insecurities. Then the anger, we had a son who had to manage two people in constant conflict. My ex punched walls, broke iPads, remotes. He was never around and I was alone yet never enough to him, the home we made was a giant disappointment, we were a giant disappointment, and our son is seeing his father destroy his house in anger and u treated manic depression. No one knew this. He was loved at work, he was smart, funny; charming - I mean they all asked me - are you X wife? Heard so much a out you! We love him! Our dry cleaning lady who spike limited English, my coworkers and friends, my family. They saw who I fell in love with but not who I lived with. Who got to see the charm suddenly turn off- like a magnet, the instant we walked out of the restaurant or closed the doors to the car. The sun suddenly went dark and I was the emotional punching bag. This culminated at my sisters wedding in Spain. He almost didn’t go- but then went and my mother saw how he dragged my son to bed mid festivities when it was late and he had been watching my son like a hawk. He carried him like a sack of potatoes she said , dragging him off the floor and my mom asked me if I was ok with this. I wasn’t. It was my daily struggle. She finally saw my life, she finally saw my terror. I asked him to leave when we returned and I continue to coparent with him. I continue to redraw my boundaries. I get therapy and o rebuild myself bit by bit. It’s been 6 years and because of our child I will always be exposed to his cruelty. I have to teach my son to do better. I have to undo behavior he still sees. But now I am stronger and I have done what I need to to shield my son as much as I legally can. To balance the good parts of him and protect us from the bad. It continues to be a job but I am here. I am loved by someone new. I give my son a different ending and a different view of love.

This happened back in 2023. I had met this guy through my sister because she had told me that he had seen my picture and had asked about me and wanted to talk to me. At the time I was living out of state, so we were talking and we got together a couple days later. During the time that I was living out of state I had to be on the phone with him 24/7 if he was home and I wasn't at work which should've been the first red flag, but the second red flag should've been when he didn't let me go out drinking with my parents on my 21st birthday and told me I had to be on video chat with him during my birthday party. A couple weeks after my birthday I moved back to my home state to be with him and things were going fine at first. But then things started progressively getting worse, the first job I got when I got back he also got a job there because he didn't trust me being alone. I couldn't go to my therapy appointments alone, I couldn't go to the store alone, I wasn't allowed to have friends but yet he was allowed to talk to other girls, I wasn't allowed to go to work alone when I got a new job even though it was an hour away from where we were living. It eventually got to the point where he had introduced me to a few of his friends over video chat and one night he had gotten drunk and accused me of cheating on him with one of his friends when I was in the other room making a Tik Tok video, we got in a fight and when I was trying to leave he grabbed ahold of my bag and shoved me into the bathtub. As I was trying to leave after that he took my phone and wouldn't give it back to me, he tried breaking it and was doing everything in his power to keep me from leaving the house. When I finally was able to leave and just go for a drive he was blowing my phone up trying to call me and when I went back to the house and decided to sleep on the couch until his mom got back from work he knew I was talking to a friend and he told me to choose between him and the friend. When I went into the bedroom to sleep for the night because I had given up with the fighting he took my phone while I was asleep and blocked that friend which I didn't realize until I left him 2 days later but the following day acted like nothing was wrong except wouldn't offer to buy me anything at the mall even though I was the one that drove us there and paid for gas to get there. When I finally got the courage to leave him it was because I had to go to work one day and as always he forced his way along. When we got to my work I was told that I wasn't needed that day which meant I was able to go home, the only issue with that was that I didn't have enough gas in my car to get home and not enough money to put gas in the car. So I called my mom and stepdad who live in another state and asked for help but told them what was happening and decided that day that I was done with everything. My mom told me that she would only help me if I left him which with the help of her I was able to. After I dropped him off I made my way to a safe location in town and locked my car waiting to be able to go get my stuff, while I was waiting he walked from his house to where I was parked and tried to get me to talk to him. After I finally left for good he was blowing my phone up calling and texting asking if I was seriously leaving.

I grew up with an immense fear of men, of which I never understood why... Until I reached my midlife and developed a serious physical ailment, only then was my horrific secret unveiled! During my childhood, I was often left in the care of my caretaker as my family member was busy nurturing my younger, sickly brother hence I became independent from a young age. Nature and my pets were my solstice. Growing up I was shy and introverted, and always felt like I never belonged. Deliberately I would avoid contact and conversation with all men, including family members. Constantly I bit my nails, until they bled sometimes. As a teenager, my caretaker would belt me until I was bruised for my insolence apparently?! My family obviously heard, yet chose to be silent due to their fear of him. An inner rage developed towards him and eventually I completely despised him. One day in my mid-forties I awoke with a serious frozen neck. As a Holistic Practitioner, I knew that this was an underlying emotion which was manifesting as a physical ailment so I decided to seek psychological aid. After a few months of regular sessions, the deepest dark secret was revealed... I had been sexually abused by my caretaker since childhood. YES that was a heavy pill to swallow, and of course more therapy was required to heal my painful, inner child wounds. The horrific shock caused various emotional reactions from depression, anger, shame, guilt and even suicidal thoughts. However, a power deep within me gave me the strength to slowly and gently work through it on a daily basis, thanks to the love and support of many wonderful people including close friends. Yoga, meditation, journaling, breathwork, energy therapy and different holistic modalities assisted my transformational, healing journey. I also believe that my continued faith guided me as well, to find inner peace and forgiveness towards my abuser. A year later I approached my family member about my abuse, and as shocked as she was she could still not support me emotionally. My dysfunctional childhood could never be erased, however I chose to make the rest of my life the Best of my life from that day onwards! After some time. the day eventually came when I had the courage to face my abuser. I looked him in the face with absolute compassion, that's when I realised that I was completely healed. My path hereon would be creating the life I dreamed of. His choice of denial was his issue! On Date, I appeared for the first time publicly on stage as a Speaker to share my story of Name of Presentation' at the Location of event. It was utterly life-changing. Standing at the podium, my legs were trembling and hands were shaking, yet I felt this Divine presence supporting me and giving me the courage. I was not alone. I chose to speak my truth and be the voice for the voiceless! The audience were fortunately patient and understanding as I opened my heart. Since then I was inspired to create my personal brand 'Brand Name', which offers support, healing and guidance to those who've been sexually abused and endured domestic violence. I'm also a Organization NameAmbassador for the prevention of Children's sexual abuse, which is unfortunately ripe in today's society. My passion is to continue to share my triumphant, transformational story on webinars and podcasts worldwide. The time is now for victims to come out of the closet and be the change they wish to see in the world, so they too can live the life of freedom and peace that they truly deserve. My mission is to encourage other victims to no longer be silent. Speaking my truth was my path to emancipation. Recently I co-authored a book, Book Title - The voices of survivors' which will be published on Date. Writing it was another beautiful, healing experience for me. I gained even deeper, inner peace. Even though my trauma was horrifying and I was scarred both physically and emotionally, I was determined to transform my pain to purpose and my wounds to wisdom so I'm no longer the victim but rather the Victor in my life! I am living proof it can be done and proud to say I've never needed to be on medication; Holistic therapies greatly aided my metamorphosis. Nowadays I am more confident, brave and compassionate, appreciating every day of my new-found existence! " OUR TRUTH DESERVES TO BE REVEALED; OUR PRESENCE WARRANTS TO BE ACKNOWLEDGED; OUR VOICES NEED TO BE HEARD AND EXPRESSED." - Name

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.

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!!!!

My truth almost destroyed me, until I realized that my authentic truth is what built me. I have been abused most of my life I'm told. I had no idea honestly, I didn't know that other people grew up with out someone covering your mouth at night and smiling at you for breakfast. I had no idea he wasn't allowed to hit me, I mean after all he didn't hit me as hard as my mom was hit at times so you see I was better than abuse. No one mentioned that just because I cried and said no while he had sex with me, as it was so much easier than fighting I'd learned. Plus no one likes a dramatic wife he told me. I can't recall the times I was raped and dissuasion and I had become close after all. I still explain it away or forget, until I wake up crying. I wish often no one had ever told me. I had made it after all out of the black eyes only to be wrote up by my superior officer for discretion of government property. They should have protected me, I didn't know, I wore more make up the times after. The first time it occurred to me that I wasn't as lucky as I thought was with his hands around my throat hoping it didn't bruise but he didn't let go this time and as my vision began to fade and while I couldn't speak anyway and fighting would only bring my son to watch, he weren't supposed to watch, I didn't know. His tiny voice was enough for me to get to the company in time to get deployment orders. I knew he would kill me before I seen war, I just cheat because I was a whore he told me. He was arrested for the broken nose I received for explaining I had no choice but to go to Iraq. I was a horrible mother and a whore, he told me. 6 months into my tour of combat, a peaceful time if I'm honest, I received the message he was dead, a car accident. I didn't even believe them but I was next of kin and unfortunately his body was only decomposing as no one could Identify him. It was him, they told me. In the 8 days the Army had given me to put my abuser in the ground and return, I was mission essential after all. I was so good at war, I knew who the enemy was there they pointed guns at us. When I finished my tour now decorated in combat and a leader I just knew I had put in my time, I earned my peace with my son. I took all of the things they told me were abuse and I never complained, I didn't know too. Turns out my brothers in arms had another plan for where I would find peace, It wouldn't be there one of them told me while he held my mouth and nose and forced himself into me so hard I thought my insides had torn. They took turns, my fellow solders. Some hurt less others hurt so bad I cried outloud. The person on my team my Sgt, he was there now, I was safe. I reached for him to stand and he whispered he wouldn't rape me but he had to tell them he did and if I would just stop crying they might go faster, it did just like he told me. I told my HR Sgt. she really seemed to care and for the first time in my life I felt I had been abused. I LITERALLY killed for them and they took turns seeing who would make me bleed first. I left her office, past the group of my brothers in arms who all whispered how women didn't belong here and noted how much blood I had lost laughing. I shouldn't have been there I knew most of all what men do and I drank anyway. I walked away missing the way my husband was gentle when he raped me and wiped my tears away missing him. A female I knew was the wife of one of the solider explained to me that I was mistaken rape for being a whore and my career ended now I served so honorably it was time to quietly go home, she told me. I had already graduated school and now served my country, fair trade I told me. I was shamed, demoted and stripped of all rank, she lied. I wanted to leave and go to my mom take my son and just run back home, a coward I had become. I returned home going into Social Work and Advocacy the only thing in the world that made it okay the abuse as they told me, it made me understand the look on your sons face when you had failed him and the denial and the strength to lie to ashamed to answer the real questions and having to defend yourself. Everything they told me that was abuse seemed worth it and most of it I still didn't know as I had remarried years later to another type of abuser, lucky to have him he told me. I had only been almost killed a handful of times and after I stopped counting me saying no as rape it wasn't as bad as I thought because I drove a nice car and I was able to afford to work with women and children who didn't know their abuse probably caused the abuse of their own child, I told them as I had learned this in blood, they way you sometimes truly weren't told. I ended up with my nice car and my bountiful facebook pictured family. I was working in a place I knew I was barely good enough for a job my dreams were made of a mission I believed in so much my children wore the logo's at the fundraisers. My mother had been drinking and threatened to end her life. The police were called and in 120 seconds of getting out of the squad car he took her with an assault rifle, it took her a month to die and my signature to watch. My husband who hardly hit me and raped me less often since our third child was connived in being held down and with less tears than normal, he left me the day I signed her life away. Leaving me with two small daughters, my mothers body breathing with a machine and a teenage son with a house to pay for and now day care costs and funeral costs. The Soical injustice of the names they called her when I watched the body cam still echo. This no one needed to tell me. What no one ever told me is that while for the first time I knew with everything in me how wrong this was that the nonprofit to end domestic violence would be my next abuser. I was struggling to sleep and afford my lifestyle and the debt of my mothers homicide they told me. It would be women who had told me the mission, empowering women as I barely made it to the end of a leadership cohort I was so blessed to be in and knew someone from a place like me was never going to see again would be the last time I would not know I was being abused. FMLA they said with the wrong paperwork and lies forcing me into the mortgage company started the foreclosure while they used my little minority daughters pictures of the times they came to work sick with me because other people needed me. When I realized I would be fired I knew my last time to ever be anything but a person who didn't know better. I was the opening clip of the video the day I was written up for the first time for getting a restraining order as my daughter was now the victim. I needed to graduate that leadership class to prove to my daughters that the shirts with the logos in glitter and gold were still true mommy had some how failed again. After crying begging to keep my job I loved SO much, the murder of my mother, and the abandonment of what was abuse in all ways they told me had lied and fired me. I haven't left my house much since then the use of the very thing I believed in so much was used against me and I'm defeated. They told so much lied in my story I wanted to tell it myself. I still feel lucky to have learned what abuse is and one day I'll heal from it my therapist tells me. I wish I had seen it coming the worse abuse I ever felt was from an organization who's mission it was to empower women and tell those of us who never knew better how to be better. Soon I'll lose my home and the Army will stop making me tell them where it hurt after the MST, I hate the pretty way they use letters to not say GANG RAPE. maybe it's my fault after all that's what they told me. Women just lie to you so more gently before they take advantage of what life did to me. I still miss the more gentle abuse of my first husband, it'll end they say. My daughters lost the man who raped me to make them the day the police told me I had let my abuse led to theirs, I just wish someone had ever told me the abuse wont ever truiy end. The ones who feed you and your daughters with hope that their is a mission while using our pictures as advertisement was only the second time I knew and no one had to tell me. No one has told me how to stop hurting or how to pick up the pieces, i just someone would tell me.

it actually began in the summer of 1975 when I was 8 years old. my brother came to home on thackeray court in the sheridan parkside projects. My brother brother 2 had just got his license and was so happy that he brought my brother along. while mom, brother 2, and my sister were outside, i was upstairs playing with my star trek playset, when brother came from the bathroom and asked me if I wanted to play doctor. I thought he meant the child's version of it, but he meant the grown-up version. so he asked me to take off my clothes then started feeling my naked body, touching my genitals and feeling my penis, and then said to me this is how people have sex. He then said some very filthy sex talk like you would read in hustler magazine, then said don’t tell mom or I’ll say that it was your idea. so mom and dad never knew about it. there was no police report or rape kit taken. fast forward to september of 1989 when I was 22 years old, my brother brother, his girlfriend, and their 6-month-old baby daughter came up from florida and stayed with mom and me for 3 months. And when mom was at work, they would rape me every night for 3 months, sometimes by her, sometimes by him, or sometimes by the two of them together. It was 90 days of hell every night. When I would go to bed, all I would think about is wanting to commit suicide just to make it all end. but I did not because mom finally found out about all of this in march 2012 when I turned 45 years old just for the simple reason he said that he would kill her if i said anything. So in june 2012, I started going to counseling because i was diagnosed with p.t.s.d because of it. i still go to this very day, 12 years later because sometimes my p.t.s.d flares up from flashbacks or because of the 4th of july fireworks and I talk to her about it, hold nothing back.

In 2007, my ex-husband drove over my foot. He did it out of rage. What followed was something I’ll never forget: ➤ I called the police. ➤ They issued a temporary restraining order. ➤ I went to court, determined to protect myself and my toddler. ➤ He stood before the judge, pleaded, and promised he’d never do it again. ➤ The court believed him. They let him go. The restraining order wasn’t extended. And just like that, I was left to pick up the pieces on my own. I’ve shared parts of my story about surviving domestic violence before. But this part? I’ve kept it to myself. For years, I was ashamed of this story. Not because of what happened to me—but because the world taught me to be ashamed. To be quiet. To “move on” as though resilience meant silence. But here’s the truth: Resilience doesn’t come from silence. 𝐈𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩. This experience, as painful as it was, taught me lessons I couldn’t learn any other way: ➤ I learned how to find my voice, even when no one wanted to hear it. ➤ I learned how to advocate for myself, even when the system failed me. ➤ I learned that survival isn’t the end goal—thriving is. But let’s be clear—this isn’t just about my story. It’s about a culture that protects abusers, excuses toxic behavior, and leaves survivors to fend for themselves. The same culture that let him walk away is the one that: ➤ Enables toxic leadership in workplaces. ➤ Silences survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence. ➤ Ignores the mental health toll of these experiences. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 “𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.” Leadership isn’t just about titles or decisions—it’s about creating a world where: ➤ Survivors feel safe to speak up. ➤ Toxicity is called out, not tolerated. ➤ Resilience is celebrated, not silence. Some stories stay with you until you’re ready—today, I’m ready. Let it end with us. NO MORE Week 2025 hashtag#nomoreweek2025 hashtag#SayNoMore, hashtag#EndTheSilence hashtag#nomoreweek from LinkedIn post: link

We lost our family dog to domestic violence. Yes family, because he’s family to us. After that our abuser drained every single account, sold things, hid things, stalked us, and more. Then he left both me, and our child homeless and struggling a lot. What followed was zero help, and support from the police, DA, DV Unit, and the judges. In my wildest dreams I never imagined that nobody would help us. We spent 7 years waiting to get housed, and each day I think are they going to kick us out today, and will we have to sleep in our car again. Understandably that’s an extremely uneasy feeling, not to mention the toll all of these things have taken on our mental health. Yet another thing that isn’t taken seriously enough. Besides all of the abuse, including the post separation abuse, there’s coercive control, and our judicial system needs to acknowledge, and do something about this too. As parents we want to protect our children, but we can’t do that without help from our Congress. We can no longer rely on our individual states to properly help us. We need a nationwide Act that protects all victims of abuse, but this will not work unless there’s accountability. It must be required to be enforced this. We need a Serious Crime Act. I strongly believe that if the United Kingdom can enact this so can we. The day that I had to tell our child that her own dad abused, and killed her dog is something I will never forget. Everyone situation is different, but the one thing we have in common is we’ve experienced abuse. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, especially not on children.

I believe that my ex-boyfriend, Name — a bodybuilder currently living in State — has been engaging in serious digital harassment, including hacking my devices, spoofing text messages, and attempting to make it appear that I sent messages I did not. I have also noticed individuals around me—such as neighbors or coworkers—acting in ways that seem coordinated, including color-coding, winking, and using specific terms like “widgets” when referring to my family. I have reported this situation to the police, but so far there has been insufficient evidence to link these incidents directly to him. If anyone else has experienced similar behavior from this person, please come forward and share your experience.

No matter what your abuser says, it isn't your fault. You are braver than you think and stronger than you know. Your truth is THE truth, and your voice matters. My abuser would gaslight me constantly to where I was no longer certain of what had actually happened in a given situation. He emotionally, verbally and psychologically abused me yet claimed it was all my fault. After I ended our engagement and finally left him for good, he put an AirTag on my car and used it to track my location and stalk me. According to him, this was also my fault. He was convinced I was cheating on him - something I never did and would never do. I got an Order of Protection against him, and we went to court multiple times. It was the worst time in my entire life, but I survived. Two years later, I've moved across the country, started my own business and rebuilt my life. You aren't alone. Even if you feel like it, you have the strength of the survivors who've gone before you that will carry you through your darkest days. We stand by you and with you. It ends with us.

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

Ok it all started as at a friend on Facebook and then it went to messenger then it went to Zangi app there a a friend and another friend that are in danger and they show sign of self or want to harm theme slef their a group of uk bad boys where they are hurting people and my friend I tried to call the uk police and it was restricted.But why is it so hard for a perosn in USA to seek help to help a friend out in uk she want to harm herself all Becuse of those criminal out their they are trying to prevent me from helping me there a criminal group where my friend said it on location, city.there a group called uk bad boys they are a group of criminal out their harming my friends and they want me to pay a gift card for her safety pls messsge me back ok thank il talk more about my storie .

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.