Community

At a young age, I started therapy. I found through therapy I grew up with narcissistic parents, and my sister developed narcissistic traits. I was the scapegoat in the family. My parents taught my siblings and I that family comes first. My family took advantage of my sensitivity. They expected me to do everything for them. If I did anything for myself, I was told I am selfish. After years of therapy, I learned that explained a lot as to why the relationships I had felt similar to what I had with my family. I never knew my childhood trauma linked to my relationships. My daughter's father abused us emotionally, mentally, and physically. Hitting, slapping, belittling, name calling and more. A lot like how my family treated me, but minus the physical abuse. Eventually he left. Before he left, he pinned me to the wall and threatened to hit me. He left. I got a restraining order. He broke it by coming to my house. No one was home at the time, but he was there because he left a note on the gate of my house. That happened two more times. After awhile, it stopped. A few years later, I attempted another relationship. I ended the relationship last year. I had to. He was a combination of my dad and my daughter's father when it came to narcissistic abuse and domestic violence. After finding my current therapist, my therapist said she she is proud of me. She said I was able to break the generational chain of abuse. It was scary to break up with my now ex, but I wasn't happy. The healing is scary, emotional, but necessary. Both my Down Syndrome daughter, and I are blessed to have each other.

Emotional and psychological abuse is abuse, even if it’s invisible to other people. I spent years ashamed of what was happening to me, thinking no one would believe me if I spoke up, because there were no visible scars. But I’m here to say, for anyone else going through this: You deserve more. Your kids deserve more. You deserve to be seen. You deserve to be heard. I will not be invisible anymore. I will not be quiet. We’re in this together. Sending love.💕

No more feeling shame. The shame is my abuser's to bear. I was in an abusive relationship 7 years. She would Yell and throw items around the room. Tell me who I can and can't see, and where I could go. She would degrade me by playing on any insecurity I had. If I questioned her motives I was gas lighted to change my way of thinking. She would smack my chest and call it play fighting. She would convince me "I'm the only one who is looking out for you" she monitored where I was and how long I was there. I would hid in the bathroom, because I was terrified of her. She would convince me to cut people out of my life. She would manipulate me emotionally and physically. Everything was on her terms, she loved that I feared her. No more feeling afraid of speaking my truth. #yournotalone

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

For years I questioned what I was doing wrong and how someone who loved me could be so comfortable hurting me. But they didn’t hit me so I never looked at it as DV or myself as a victim. Through different type of relationships, it was a revolving door, but they didn’t hit me so I wasn’t a victim. Until my last relationship. In 3 1/2 years, he put his hands on me once, but if I had just let him leave, he wouldn’t have done it. For the longest time, he was planting it into my head that I was the issue. The good times were really good so I overlooked the bad cause I loved him more than I loved myself in that moment. The way he loved my kids (who were not his) also kept me around for a lot longer than I should have. I planned a life with him in my head cause he was helping raise kids that weren’t his so he must be an amazing man to step up, until he started lacking. Then I realizing me being unhappy with him, was hurting my kids more than I knew. He made me believe that I was so “mentally unstable” no one would ever love me & that being 6ft down in a grave was the only way I was going to be able to get away from him. Then I left & I was so proud of myself. I started doing intensive therapy & working on myself & then the thoughts he planted in my head came back. “No one could ever love you the way I do because I was there for you in your lowest” & I broke the no contact & let him back in. Things were good at first, and then he would shove the past in my face & tell me how much he hated me & the verbal & mental abuse cycle began again. But this time, I knew better. I found out about mental & physical abuse, I did research, I was in groups & I was learning to love myself again. I had boundaries for the first time in a long time. And then I found out about the cheating a year prior while he was living at my house & the summer of the downward spiral had begun. I blocked him again & was so depressed, I began drowning it with alcohol. I felt my heart just break as this man had spent so much time accusing me of cheating while I was working to support my kids, just for him to turn around & do it to me. I almost lost everything & it took me losing 1 of my jobs to finally get back on track. I stopped drinking for a while, I found a better job, I spent more time with my kids & began re-evaluating what made me happy in life. I re-discovered my healthy boundaries, I was working more, I was laughing again & generally meaning it. I started talking to my friends about my feelings & where I was in life. For a year, things were going better (there’s always going to be the ups & downs but it was better). And then the 1 year of me blocking had come up & I caved & unblocked him on his birthday. At first it was to be petty, and then I found out he was seeing someone. I played it like I didn’t know anything, we hung out a few times & then the old him came out again but this time, I was in a better place & I knew what to accept & what to correct. I finally seen him being in my life was not good for me mentally & as much as I miss the him he pretended to be when we first met, I am learning to mourn the person who never existed. I don’t want to call him for every little thing anymore (good or bad). He doesn’t get access to me or my kids life anymore & I love the strong, independent female I am becoming. I’m so proud of the scars I’m healing & acknowledging that I’m human & I am going to have weak days that I might want to message him & I’m taking it 1 day at a time. Going from planning a future & a life with someone you thought was them to mourning someone who never actually existed is something most people will never understand (& I hope they never have too). Some days are easier than others & it’s ok to get lost as long as you find your way back to the track. I am strong because I have no other choice but I’m learning it’s ok to have weak days & I don’t always have to be so strong. Cry, scream, punching a pillow is healthy ways to let all of that out. I’m not perfect & I don’t have to be but I will be there for others going through this & let them know they’re not alone, it’s not their fault & they are very so much loved

I met my ex at a time in my life when I was incredibly vulnerable. I was processing a lot emotionally and I had uprooted my life and moved home. I wasn't making much money, living with my parents and really trying to figure out my next steps but faltering. Reeling from a significant romantic rejection, I was dating in a desperate way. I just wanted to find my person, have companionship, enjoy all the benefits of having a partner. And so when I met my ex, I projected all my desires for stability on to our relationship extremely quickly. We were talking about getting engaged (in a year) after only knowing each other one month. We moved in together after six months of dating. In a normal healthy relationship this wouldn't necessarily be an issue. But I had ignored a lot of red flags up to that point. He baselessly accused me of cheating on him, once when I was sexually assaulted in a bar he asked me what I did to make the person touch me, he made derogatory comments about what I wore, he ingratiated himself with my family. I had told him on our first date that I didn't want children, something that I do out of respect for people's desires and time. Months into our relationship he brought up (while drunk and angrily) that he wanted children but was giving that up to be with me. Shortly after we moved in together I had a slew of weddings for family and friends, all of which he attended. At the first I was the maid of honor. He got overly drunk at the rehearsal dinner and picked a fight with me after. He stormed out of a room full of people because I had walked away from him (to avoid standing near the door and blocking traffic) and it set him off. He yelled at me for thirty minutes about how inconsiderate I am and all the other reasons we weren't compatible. The next weekend was my sister's wedding. I couldn't go with him to pick up a suit before the rehearsal dinner and this set him off again. He drank too much and berated me later. This time for not having been as physically affectionate in the week between the weddings. I told him it was because I was scared of him, which he then yelled at me about further. I cuddled with him to fall asleep so he would calm down, it felt like diffusing a bomb. The final wedding was the worst. Same formula. Something small set him off, he drank too much and then broke up with me and tried to leave the wedding but couldn't get an Uber. When I tried to hold him accountable the next day he said we were both drunk so it wasn't anyone's fault. For the months that followed I dealt with endless scrutiny. I went into an office for work and he worked remotely. He would smell my clothes when I came home, ask why I was wearing lipgloss, or backhandedly tell me I looked nice. He was heavy handed about money. Times when I would ask him not to pay for something or say that I had it covered he would intervene behind my back. He spent hundreds of dollars on a birthday gift for my dad that my whole family had wanted to purchase even after I asked him not to. Money was a source of control and self-worth for him and even when I could contribute it wasn't enough or if I said I planned to buy something (our meals for my parents anniversary dinner) he would find a way to try and undermine me and pay for it himself. I was both somehow financially insufficient and then in the rare times I could pay for something for us, too financially independent for his liking. We got a dog only a few months into living together. He had put his dog down the previous year and was itching for another one. She is a sweetheart and I enjoyed raising her for the few months I did. The first time we trimmed her nails we accidentally cut one too short and she started bleeding so she was understandably hesitant of nail trimmings going forward. One night we decided to get her nails trimmed. I held her and my ex was trimming her nails and cut one too short. She started wriggling as he attempted to trim the rest but couldn't because she was so impatient. He became irate and threw the nail trimmer across the room. He stood up and while I was still holding her on the ground, wound up and hit her. I was completely frozen. I used to think that I should've moved in his way so that he hit me instead. I thought it would make him realize how bad his temper was but I know now I probably would've just sped up his timeline. A couple of weeks before we broke up we were having another bout of a recurring fight which centered around him finding it laborious and monotonous to be physically intimate with me. As I tried to express to him that it was hurtful for him to tell that it would start "getting old" to be intimate with me, he just became more angry. He had also drank a decent amount that night. He packed a bag and said he needed to stay at his parents' for the night. His exact words were "When I'm angry I do things I regret and I don't want to do something I'll regret". It took me a while to accept that from the throwing of things, the time I came home to a whole in the wall, the slamming of doors so hard that pictures came off the wall, and hitting the dog that when he said this he meant hitting me. Even for the first little bit after we broke up I maintained that he never would have hurt me and I was just a victim of emotional abuse. With more time and therapy I now know that I got out with very little time left to spare. My emotional and psychological safety were long gone and my physical safety was hanging by a thread. I'm now over a year out from our break-up. The first therapy session I had after our breakup I said to my therapist that I didn't want to put myself in a situation like that ever again. My therapist responded "you didn't put yourself in that situation, he did all of that to you and you survived it". I think because I wasn't showing up well at that point in my life it makes me feel like if I was stronger--emotionally, financially, personally--I wouldn't have been susceptible to this. I hold a lot of guilt and shame for being in such a vulnerable place in life that all of that happened to me. If I hadn't moved home, if I'd been making more money, if I hadn't moved in with him at six months, if I had left the million different times he showed a red flag maybe I wouldn't have the mental scars and trauma. And though that thought process is hard to shake I know at the end of the day, I didn't deserve any of the abuse I dealt with. What makes me the most angry about all of it is the innocence I lost. I never would have considered in my mid-late twenties I'd consider myself innocent. But the unburdened and carefree way I was able to think about dating before this is something I miss. There's a level of optimism I'll never get back. I used to think the worst thing that could happen to me while dating was someone being apathetic or incompatible, not intentionally violent. With a lot of therapy and time I am starting to regain my light and open heart. But the vivid memories will always be there, though hopefully they will fade. Although I'm indelibly changed, I won't let this rob me of my ability to see the good in people. I'm still deserving and capable of finding love, I have hope for that.

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.

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

...during the holidays, my mum would take me up-country to stay with my grandma. My grandma lived with my two older cousins(let's name them: T and K) who stayed there after their mum passed away years back. Near my grandmothers house was another homestead, which was also our relatives. I had older cousins from that side too, but only two were living there coz the others were working in urban cities in our country. I remember every evening, T and K would normally go fetch water by the river and they couldn't leave me behind coz i was young, and their responsibility and mostly my grandma had gone to the market...they took this opportunity to assault me, i remember i always refused and told them God would be mad coz deep down i felt it was wrong, but they brainwashed me, telling me God is pleased and that it's not wrong. They occasionally did it, even when we were in the house, they touched my private parts, forced me to touch theirs and do all sorts of disgusting things. When my grandma travelled and could not come over night, One would undress me and order me to lay with him...From the other homestead(let's name him: C),he was a drug addict, he normally called for me and when i persisted he came for me, he lured me with candy which was my favourite...When the holiday came to an end. i tried telling my mum that i didn't wanna go back to my grandma but she never understood and i feared telling her. From the first incident, i felt shame and helpless...i tried getting rid of the situation but it was always after me, I was too young...6 to 10 years old. The older i got the more i understood all that was going on...but i've been forever stuck, i have social stigma and hate men(slightly fear), i try to console myself and forget all that occurred but with defeat. I'm always ok until i remember and my world crumbles. I don't know how to heal or overcome but just act like it didn't happen coz after all what would they do after the know what happened??It's easy for me to overcome all things apart from this, and i don't know why...or it's because i still get to see them every time despite (eventually) the assault come to an end ?? I've really never spoken about it, this my first time and it's a way of healing...hopefully i do, by reading the other stories on this page

I had accepted my fate, until one day a friend witnessed the aftermath of the abuse. That friend saved my life, and I found my will to live. It's been ten years since I said no more, and I've built a life for myself that I never thought I'd live to see. You are not alone. You are worthy. You are loved. You deserve the world. There is a reason you are here, and the world is so much better with you in it.

I joined the army getting it drilled in my head and cursed at and belittled for months about INTEGRITY ARMY VALUES RESPECT all to just live with trauma and disappointment by leadership who failed me and soldiers who took advantage. From serving with two separate units, both were gut wrenching anytime I had to be present and oh did they make sure that I was. Joining the Army is my biggest disappointment and hardest anger from healing to overcome. Please pray for me.

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

In high school, I was in a relationship that I thought was love, but it was anything but that. At first, everything seemed perfect—he was sweet, attentive, and said all the right things. But over time, I started to notice that things weren’t quite right. He had this way of manipulating me into doing things I didn’t want to do. If I tried to say no or set a boundary, he would start crying or tell me he was a horrible person, making me feel guilty for not giving in to what he wanted me to do. I’d end up comforting him, telling him he wasn’t awful, when deep down I was the one who felt awful. It’s strange to think about it now, but back then, I didn’t realize how toxic the relationship was. I thought I was just being a good girlfriend, trying to keep him happy. When he broke up with me, it completely shattered me. I was devastated and couldn’t understand why I felt so broken. I thought it was because I loved him so much, but the reality was, I was mourning the loss of something that wasn’t healthy at all. It wasn’t until later, when I was talking to my best friend, that I started to see the truth. He gently pointed out that my ex was abusive, that I had been manipulated and controlled. He told me I had a toxic soul tie to someone who didn’t really care about me, only about what he could get from me. Hearing that was like a wake-up call. I realized that abuse doesn’t always look like what you see in the movies. It can be emotional, subtle, and so well-hidden that you don’t even realize it’s happening. Looking back, it’s scary to think that I didn’t know I was being abused. I just thought that’s what relationships were like, that maybe I was the one who needed to change. But now I know that love isn’t supposed to make you feel small or guilty. It should be supportive and uplifting, not something that tears you down. I’m just glad I had someone who cared enough to help me see the truth, even if it took me a while to accept it. It’s so important to realize that you can be abused in a committed relationship, and sometimes, you don’t even know it’s happening until it’s over.

I met a guy in 2018 and we got together after my grandmother died. After seeing each other a couple of times, the physical altercations started. Why I let it happen and stayed, I really could not tell you. I made 3 police reports but they were all eventually dismissed. We eventually moved in together and had a son. I did love him and he took care of me (I'm a type 1 diabetic). He was very sweet and always told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. BUT he was very jealous and possessive and whenever we fought, he usually put his hands on me. I got a black eye, bruised ribs, scratches, bruises, a busted lip, a chipped tooth and many scars. In 2023, he passed away from a drug overdose. I was very sad but also I felt like I was now free. That sounds so awful but I didn't have to worry anymore about going somewhere he didn't want me to or talking to someone he didn't want me to or just doing anything he didn't want me to. Again, why did I stay? I did truly love him and other than that, I don't know.

My life should have been a life of happiness and peace, but oooh how the tables turned. I was an easy going, fun loving, creative, individual who has talents beyond my time. For the most part my life was lived as a typical middle class, every day average Jane. Who had dreams that were all reachable. It started at the age 25, where I met a handsome man that in my eyes was every woman's dream. But ooh my, my I didn't know this was the beginning of a very harsh reality check and the beginning of major changes in my life. We had a quick and fast romance story, fell in love, out of love an in love again. He was my rock and I was his motivating force, until he changed totally on me and became a habitual cheater. His cheating lasted for many years and he eventually met a faith that he too thought, he was untouchable. But being who he was and how care-free he was in his cheating activities, this faith wouldn't have passed him. The sudden faith that landed him to contact a std, to which no one ever wants. But I on the other hand was living my dream of having a husband and kids, with taking care of all their needs an leaving myself undone. Yes you may have an idea so far where this story is going, but I didn't know I would become a victim to my husband. He had the most perfect plan with the cruelest intention. Lets go back a little, yes I was acting like a wife but I was just living in a common- law situation. To which his plans was perfectly executed, he knew, I had little knowledge about his "outside activities " and my greatest desire at the time was to be his wife. And that was his perfect plan to get me, he would avoid being in d same home, or country with me. Often repeatedly saying he's coming on our wedding day, in which I would smile and think nothing of it. I took us roughly 1 week to organize everything, too have a quick and fast wedding. Me not knowing that in my tries of joy there would be sadness on d corner. I got married..had a beautiful harmonious day, fun after fun. Till one day I began feel strange and had to be taken to the doctor, in which multiple test was done. Everything came out ok, but this one result hit me on my chest hard, as if I was out in the rain being hit on my chest repeatedly. I sat in that room alone to my right nothing or no one and to the left nothing or no one, the doctor that stood in front of me became invisible. But my husband was gone again, back to keep away from home and the country of which we stayed. Every little piece of his actions from the most biggest to the smallest came flooding in my head as one slide to the next and it all became clear. I ran out of the room in tears to hide and called him, as he heard me he began to cry and repeatedly say sorry, sorry, sorry. But this man wasn't totally sorry he told me he's going to book a flight an he would be on his way. He came, he hold me, I asked questions he answered, but my biggest shock was when I heard these words, "I didn't want to lose you". His logic for making me his victim was justified with not losing me, my life was weighted on not losing me. The deed was done and I became the walk over troll, I felt as a prisoner in head, life, body and to him. The cheating continued, I tried to protect others,but he would make me seem to be bitter and a liar. I had became a victim to multi forms of abuse, he made a baby outside of the marriage an my kids became as nothing to him as I was. I got verbally abused by his newly baby mother and often called a liar when I tried to warn her, but in all I served.

For years, I lived through something no one should ever have to go through. It started when I was young, and the person who hurt me was someone I was supposed to trust, my stepfather. He was supposed to protect me, but instead, he took advantage of me in the worst way. Growing up, I thought my stepfather was someone I could trust. He was supposed to be part of my family, someone who would keep me safe. But instead, he became the person who hurt me the most. The abuse started when I was just a little girl, too young to understand what was happening. It began with small things, touches that felt wrong, words that made me uncomfortable. But over time, it became something much worse. It happened mostly at night, when everyone else was asleep. I’d wake up to the sound of the door creaking open, and my heart would start racing. I’d pretend to be asleep, hoping he would leave, but he never did. He would sit on the edge of my bed, and I could feel his weight pressing down on me. I would lie there, frozen, too scared to move or say anything. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to make it stop. I just wanted it to be over. Sometimes, he would wait until my mom was at work or when she traveled. Those were the worst times because I knew no one was coming to save me. I would hear his footsteps in the hallway, and my stomach would twist into knots. I would try to hide, to make myself small, but it didn’t matter. He always found me. He would come into my room, and I would feel so helpless, so alone. I wanted to scream, to run away, but I was too scared. I didn’t know what would happen if I tried to stop him. I hated myself for not being able to fight back. I hated myself for not being brave enough to tell someone. But I was just a kid. I didn’t know how to protect myself. I didn’t know how to make it stop. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. The worst part was the silence. I couldn’t tell my mom. I was too scared of what would happen if I did. What if she didn’t believe me? What if she blamed me? What if it made things worse? I didn’t want to hurt her, and I didn’t want to tear our family apart. So I kept it all inside. I carried the weight of my secret every day, and it felt like I was drowning. The pain and shame were too much to carry. All I thought about was committing suicide just to end it all, so that I wouldn’t feel the weight of what was happening to me. I felt dirty, broken, and like I didn’t deserve to live. I thought if I was gone, the pain would stop, and maybe everyone else would be better off without me. But somehow, I kept going. I don’t know how, but I did. I found little things to hold onto—a friend, a book, a song, anything that made me feel even a tiny bit okay. It took years, but I finally told someone what happened. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was also the first step toward healing. I’m still healing now. Some days are better than others. I still have nightmares, and I still struggle with trusting people. But I’m learning to be kind to myself, to remind myself that what happened wasn’t my fault. I didn’t deserve it, and I’m not defined by it. If you’ve been through something like this, please know you’re not alone. It’s not your fault, and you deserve to be heard and supported. Healing is possible, even when it feels like it’s not. You are stronger than you think, and your story isn’t over yet. You don’t have to carry this weight alone anymore. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to let someone in. You are not broken, and you are not defined by what happened to you. You are so much more than that.

It is important to clarify that in my case, this was not a romantic/sexual relationship – it was a teacher/student, mentor/mentee, falsified mother/daughter type of situation. She never had children and was trying to, in some ways, adopt me as her own. It is still considered domestic violence under the definition, though it is not the typical case. When I was a teenager in high school, I was in a very dark place mentally and contemplating suicide and needed to see someone. A trusted family member recommended a therapist to my mother. Although at the time I recalled not having good feelings about her – I felt distrustful vibes – I went to her for therapy for a few years. Primarily to please my mother and hopefully balance out my emotions in the process. The abuse, from a psychological standpoint, began when I saw her for therapy as a teenager, but I didn’t really become aware of that until I reconnected with her in my 30s – after the death of my brother. As a professional in the mental health field, she took advantage of my weakened mindset and spiritual views by manipulating me with her delusional state of being – she claimed to have strong spiritual power and a connection to God. Craving spiritual guidance and balance, she convinced me to live with her so she could become my true spiritual teacher. She gradually showed her true colors the longer we lived together in a mentor/mentee situation. She became more controlling of my every move and my time. She persuaded me to cut off from family and trusted friends – making me believe that she was the only one I could trust in the world. Truly isolating me from everyone who cared about me. The anger she displayed was terrifying. She became extremely unstable and even suicidal over time. Subjecting me to more mental, emotional, psychological, and spiritual abuse than I could ever write about. My gut, my instincts, told me this was an incredibly unhealthy situation after only a few months of living with her. Still, I had known her for almost two decades and she was a professional in the mental health field. Surely, she could be trusted to have my best interests in mind, right? She also had health issues and made sure I knew she needed me by using my genuine kindness and character against me to keep me attached. The tipping point was when I believed I truly saw her demonic side show itself visually. This person is claiming to be close to God. So witnessing her demonic behavior shook something in my mind. My inner voice said," She isn't who she says she is. Feel this in your heart. You need to get out!" The process was confusing and messy in my mind. I had been groomed to trust her since I was a teenager. Now in my 30s, I felt many conflicting feelings about leaving because of this. A friend of mine, who was also a medium, contacted me after performing an intercession and told me just how bad the situation was and that I needed to leave NOW. I felt this message deeply and acted on it right away. I called my one remaining friend to tell her I needed a place to go and fast. Luckily my friend accepted me with open arms. For so many years I felt guilty for leaving…like I was the one that messed everything up. Ha! The one friend that remained in my life was also who accepted me the day I needed out quickly. She was the most understanding and incredibly sympathetic person. I will always be grateful to her and her kindness! Unfortunately, my family was cut off early in my relationship, so they didn't know anything about my abuse for quite some time after I left. When I finally reached out to repair those familial relationships, they were understandably upset at her and comforting to me. I’m proud my family comforted me once I opened up to them. After almost everyone knew what had happened, they wholeheartedly supported me, and that was truly healing.

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

When I was 8 I was molested by my older 13 year old “friend.” It was a typical grooming situation with secrets we can’t tell others that weren’t playing our “game”. This time was very confusing and I felt like I couldn’t talk to my parents or sister about it. It lasted for months- touching, hiding spots, secrets, oral sex, and vaginal sex. She ended up telling her friends at school - my mom was a school counselor that worked there. She overheard and reacted. She came to my elementary school and said that the girl said that I started it. I felt completely unsupported by my mom- unloved, unheard, not trusted, hurt, broken. I shut down from then emotionally. My parents didn’t hug me or tell me it wasn’t my fault or anything it was just pure fear and chaos and their disbelief that they didn’t know it happened even though it would happen in the same room as them sometimes. I told them this and they still couldn’t validate me or take responsibility- they never even cried for me- for the devastation I went through. We went on like all was normal. When I was 11 I started trying drinking. When I was 13 I basically wanted to die but didn’t know why. I went to a different school when I was 14 and it was all people that were upper class- I didn’t quite fit it but it was very important to my parents that we did. I was stealing to have the clothes the other girls wore- I didn’t want to depend on my parents. I then got into my first relationship at 15 and lost my virginity in the back of his car- it was abusive- verbally, sexually, emotionally and psychologically. He would intimidate me by throwing boxes, raging, screaming in my face for hours, calling me every name in the book and not letting me leave the house- he isolated me from my friends- and cheated on me whenever he wanted. That lasted for 2 years. Then I went to college, broken. I was raped 10 times when I was in college at parties or in their dorm room or mine. I woke up with a condom inside me one time… bruises on my vagina another… with no recollection of how or who did it. I was over drinking so I felt like they were my fault. I told the dean of students about one time I got roofied and nothing happened- he was a D2 football player so got a slap on the wrist. He then harassed and followed me for months intimidating me saying I was lying and ruined my reputation. I felt the same every time I woke up- confused, shocked, embarrassed, sick, alone, empty, raw, and scared to death- how did it happen again. I got sober thinking that would stop the assaults- I have since been assaulted and taken advantage of on multiple dates. Most recently, at work, I was sexually harassed for months and raped at my coworkers house. I reported it after he was reported to HR by another colleague and the state police didn’t do a thorough investigation and didn’t seem to believe me or care. He violated the restraining order and has faced no ramifications- he is a nurse. I have undergone trauma treatment for 6 months now. Healing means waking up in the morning free to do what I want, when I want, where I want, with who I want. I am learning how to voice myself and say no, set boundaries and speak up when I am uncomfortable. I have come a long way from the chaos and trauma that I reenacted without a solution. I go to sex and love addicts anonymous meetings- I went no contact, went through a painful withdrawal and am starting to see things differently. I see that the lies were not love. Love bombing isn’t love. I was chasing a fantasy of someone I wanted him to be but he never was. I live in mental health housing and I’m looking for a job. I have peace now because I spoke up. I am grateful to be alive. I pray anyone in an unsafe situation trusts the smallest voice inside you that knows what is happening isn’t right. I pray you get out safely with a plan. Don’t think “I should have” or “I was smarter than this” we are smart and we may have known better, but abusers are good at what they do - mine was when I was 15 and I recreated that traumatic hell for 15 more years. It needs to end now. I deserve a good life with a healthy person. I deserve to be treated with respect and love. I am loveable, and I am worthwhile. I say affirmations each day to move toward the life I want and not look back to a life where I was suffering in silence. I thank God everyday that I get the chance to heal, pray, laugh and have the chance to know what real love looks like, starting with my friendships. I hope to find and participate in therapy groups so I can continue to be vulnerable and heal. I hold on to the hope that I will feel safe in my body as I did when I did to prepare for EMDR. I had never felt safe in my body before. I will feel this again- I wake up every day with hope. Things are getting better slowly, healing is possible, and I am grateful for the start of a new life.

For a long time, a seemingly eternity, I have always felt ashamed at being at the receiving end of DV as a man. I always thought that it eroded my masculinity. After 12 years since leaving my abuser, and with age, I see things differently, but surely scars always remain. The thing about DV for men is that society, a big part at least, discard DV as reason why a husband would end a marriage with a wife. I guess the gossip of extramarital affairs has more of a ring than people confronting the ugly truth that a woman, and a charming one at social gatherings, can be abusive, mean, and violent. Without going into the long history of violence pre-marriage, as early as maybe the first six months of going out, I got delivered my first black eye in an elevator. Now I can laugh at it - picture having a heated argument with your girlfriend, you walk out towards the elevator, as you wait you hear footsteps approaching you, the elevator opens, you turn your back towards the footsteps and see you girlfriend, and think, she’s come around and maybe ready to talk. Instead, youre delivered a punch to your eye that pushes you to the back of the elevator, and the doors closed as you’re thinking what the hell just happened. The complexity of my story is that by the time I decided to leave her, 12 years after the elevator incident, there were 2 small children involved, a 3 and half little boy, and a couple of months old girl. Leaving your children is the must gut wrenching thing that any parent has to deal with. There was a certain stigma attached… why? Why did he leave this poor woman with two small children - he is a monster, untrustworthy, cheater, what kind of man would do that? And these were not comments for strangers, in some cases, they came from colleagues, ‘friends’. Truth is that it took many attempts. The defining one, surprisingly came for my little boy. In one of the final fights, my little one intervened. He stepped in, took me out of the room by the hand, took me to the living room and in his imperfect language told me that ‘mommy is angry right now, so stay here, but then she will be ok’. I will never forget the bravery of this boy to stop his mother from hitting his father. As I cried in the sofa, something inside me snapped. I would not allow my little boy, and infant girl, to see that kind of DV ever. That would be the last time, or so, that I would be abused. We separated, she moved to the US to her parents with the children. In that year I visited frequently. After a year she came back to the country where I was stationed, seeking reconciliation for the benefit of the children. I had moved on. Incredibly, I had met an incredible person who took what I call the most significant gamble in history - a leap of faith. She took a broken man and gave so much care and love, that I actually began to erase so much numbness. In the years that have passed, I’ve had so much time to reflect. To put it simply, no body ever should feel that there is no way out, even though it would seem that way. When I was in the deep end of things, I remember thinking that I was in this deep hole, but the only person in the world that could take me out of there was the person who put me there in the first place. That’s the thing about abusers, they hurt you, but after, they try to make it up doing things that you mistake for love and care - let me make you a chicken soup so you feel better. Or, you made me do this to you, but let me go get ice so your face doesn’t swell. In hindsight, I should have spoken more, be less ashamed. I feel I did not counter sufficiently the narrative that was put forth by my ex-wife. The narrative that I left her for another person, and that I never wanted kids, therefore, thats why I fled the home. The reality is that the impact of leaving the children was the heaviest toll that to this day I carry. After three court cases, in three countries, and a joint custody, I finally have a peace of mind that the children, now teens, are ok, and that seeing them happy, truly happy, and doing well at school and socially might have been a sacrifice worth taking. Their mother was never violent towards them, or at least not in a physical manner. Some takeaways: 1. There are signs, there are always signs. Do not ignore them as you begin entering more serious stages of relationships.. As one lady said to me one day on the street, when she witnessed my girlfriend hitting me. ‘If she hits you now, wait until youre married’. 2. Confided in family and friends, and listen to them! They know you better than perhaps, when youre young, you know yourself. After I got divorced, some school friends came to me and said…. Really? You thought that would work? 3. Be honest with yourself. You know if something is wrong. If there are red flags. Be honest with yourself. 4. Importantly, there are many people in the world and there is a special one that is willing to place all her/his chips to bet on you. You shouldn’t feel cornered and that you will face eternal loneliness once you leave your abuser, no matter how many times they will say that to you. 5. It is better to be alone than being in an unhealthy relationship. Your mental health will thank you for it. 6. Lastly, leaving an abuser is not an act of cowardice, throwing the towel, it’s an act of love, to yourself!