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After spending a year being single on purpose, I had decided that I was finally ready to invest myself in a relationship. The very next morning, I opened my phone to see a message from someone on Facebook asking me out on a date. Apparently they were following my photography page on Instagram and we had a mutual Facebook friend, and they decided they would shoot their shot. From the very beginning they were extremely funny, our sense of humor seemed to mesh really well, and they were easy to chat with. We met at a pub, and it seemed to go pretty well for a first date. It ended up getting crashed by their coworkers, so it turned into some drinks and karaoke. My cheeks hurt from laughing, they seemed really outgoing which I appreciated and their coworkers said really great things about them. On the second date we talked for hours - I felt like I had known them my entire life. No nervousness, I felt seen and accepted right away for who I was, and it was comfortable. It was a dream come true, which is how it felt for the first few months of the relationship. They appeared to check all of my boxes: self aware, empathetic, honest, open-minded. We fell in love quite quickly. The early signs of psychological and emotional abuse started within the first 6 months, but I didn't recognize it as abuse at the time. They were extremely jealous and would often say very hurtful and derogatory things about me. I'd catch them in lies and then they would break up with me stating indifferences in morals, but then would return the next day with heartfelt apologies and promises to work on their insecurities. I believed them. Of course I did, because I excused this behavior as a result of their trauma, the stress they were enduring at work, they were drunk, etc. I thought I could love them through it, so we made plans to move in with each other. That was when the insults, gaslighting, stonewalling worsened - and new aspects developed. Now I was being criticized daily, punished if I didn't tell them where I was going before leaving the house, threatened to send emails to my boss or intimate photos to my family, and my things would be written on with permanent marker or urinated on. That was when the violence started. I didn't feel safe in my own home because my things would get smashed and broken regularly. Police came to the house twice and told me if they came a 3rd time, they would make an arrest, so I ensured they never got called again. However, if I tried to call someone else for support I would get chased, held down, grabbed so I couldn't make the call. I locked myself in the bathroom once and the door was kicked down. I didn't see that as abuse at the time though, because they never hit me. I was so lost in this disillusionment of "love" that I thought they just needed my support, I needed to be more compassionate, I needed to love them better, that's what they told me anyways. This was my fault and I had to fix it. All areas of my life had been threatened: my home, my job, my relationships with my family, my pets, my safety, my health. I became extremely depressed and lost in a state of dissociation. My family became aware of some things (I kept most of it secret until near the end of the relationship, but there was much I wasn't able to hide), and they told me they feared for my life. I didn't respond, as that thought had crossed my mind already many times before and it no longer evoked a reaction in me. I was completely dissociated by this time and I had accepted the possibility. One night while I was driving, they grabbed the steering wheel and steered us into the ditch. That was when the fears became a reality for me. I started safety planning with the hopes that we could still make the relationship work. The trauma bond was strong. One night they started drinking and things were escalating, so I left the house and went to my sister's. In the past I would stay to ensure the things I loved most didn't get destroyed, or I would leave and sleep in my car - but this time I chose to see my family. I started getting text after text all hours throughout the night with horrible things being said. They hinted that my new kitten had "escaped" from the house, and my family had me back at the house, kitten and bags packed, and out the door in 20 minutes. At this point my family had seen everything and there was no turning back. Ending the relationship was confusing, because I didn't feel like I consciously made the choice myself. My family drafted my messages to kick them out of the house. I accepted it, because I just felt so drained and defeated by that point, I had absolutely nothing left to give. We continued to talk for a few months and both discussed how we missed each other and wished things could work, but I knew I could never go back to that, I didn't have the strength. My heart hurt and I definitely grieved - on the floor sobbing - for months on end because I truly felt as though this was my person, this was someone who I thought knew me and saw me for who I truly was. But the truth was, they didn't know me. They didn't even know the color of my eyes after 2 years together. I eventually realized I was grieving a version of them that didn't exist. I was grieving the life I thought we could have, the future family, the relationship that I thought we could work towards. I also realized I was grieving myself. My self esteem was diminished, I felt a huge loss of identity, I couldn't make a decision to save my life, I was exhausted and irritable and angry. I didn't recognize myself for a very, very long time. I felt betrayed and manipulated, and there was a lot of shame towards myself as I felt it was my fault for not seeing the signs or for somehow finding a way to make it work, or for staying as long as I did. I felt like I couldn't trust my judgment anymore. It's been two years now, and I am finally feeling closer to my old self. I struggled for a year and a half with my grief and learning that what I had gone through was abuse. I experienced survivor's guilt, hypervigilance, nightmares, depression, and panic attacks for months. I would start to feel better with the support of my therapist and the domestic violence specialist that I was working with, and a new trigger would happen or another development in my story would occur and I would be back at square one. I felt like I had no hope in finding myself again. I missed the person I used to be and it seemed impossible to ever shake these feelings. But even when I felt the most stuck, I still pressed forward. Even if that meant just making it to work that day, then staying in bed for the rest of the weekend. Or eating a piece of toast before bed if nothing else. Or attending the therapy appointment even if I didn't have the words. There would be weeks of darkness, but then I would have one day where I would cry and felt a little bit lighter. I would visit my family and a genuine laugh would escape my lips. It took very, very small steps, but I do believe I am finally at a place where I am surrounded by the light. I know there is still so much more work to be done, but once I started allowing myself to feel the anger, feel the hurt, feel the pain without shaming myself for it, things started getting better. Keep going - after everything you have survived, I know you can survive this.

For almost 20 years, I was in an emotionally abusive relationship. When we met, I had recently escaped from an abusive relationship. I was extremely vulnerable, and he took advantage of this with love bombing, grooming, and gaslighting. After severe (suicidal) postpartum depression and the birth of my son, I decided to file for divorce; I didn't want my son to believe that this toxic relationship was normal. When I filed for divorce, my then-husband became extremely violent to ‘change my mind’ and used me as a punching bag. I called the police, and now he has a record for his stupidity.

Freedom is Glorious I've been working alone the past two days, and instead of taking out the scissors and cutting my hair, I took out an old CD of pictures and remembered how far I have come in this journey. I found pictures of the animals I left behind so very long ago ~ his pets who were like children to me ~ I teared up at their precious faces and remembered how much I love and miss them every day. Then I found some pictures of me taken in my old rental office on campus the night before my 41st birthday. And I was amazed at how clear and blue and full of life my eyes were in each picture.  The weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  I stood tall and proud.  The color was back in my face, and my face was fuller because I had finally started to regain the weight I had lost when my food intake was so limited on the weekends. My eyes sparkled in those pictures.  I could not stop staring at myself.  The pictures were proof that I was free.  That I was me again.  I looked at the CD and reached for a snack.  And I thought about how I can eat whatever I want now.  There is no watchful eye mentally counting my calories ~ keeping the cupboard bare.  I am no longer charged $20 to eat a home-cooked meal.  I am no longer ridiculed for not cooking that home-cooked meal myself. I can do what I want, say what I want, feel what I want, wear what I want.  I am not some dress-up doll used to cloak in leather to be propped up on the back of a motorcycle for the whole valley to see ~ no I am middle-aged now, often without make-up, and finally comfortable in my own body not to care if I am not perfect. Because perfect was never good enough anyway. I can speak again.  I have a voice.  I can have an opinion on anything I want.  I see my family again on all holidays.  I do not have to lie about where I am living.  Where I am going.  What I am doing. There is no shame anymore.  No more secrets.  Even the writing I am doing has eliminated the secrets from the people I care about the most. I think about all of these changes as I ponder what it is like for him to be sitting in jail right now.  To have his freedom finally taken away from him.  To be told what to do, when to do it.  And to be isolated from family and friends. It took the news of his jail sentence to wake me up to what I had blocked out for so long.  To bring those horrible memories back up to the surface in dreams, flashbacks, and fleeting moments of sadness.  To finally realize that I had to write down my truth, or they would never go away.  He would still be controlling me in my head through those nightmares, those flashbacks.  He would still be present in my life if I did not get rid of him by writing down all the ugliness of our time together and sharing it with the world. He never wanted me to be a writer.  He made fun of my dream every day.  And it hit me today that the irony of my life story is that one of the biggest stories of my life will now be about him.  And maybe there will come the book or the screenplay out of all of this ugliness that I have shared with the world.  Because if you can skim off the scum, if you can sand down the rust, beneath the surface of all that pain and sadness is the beauty that was once there ~ that was once my life ~ that was once me. Beneath the surface lies the freedom that never really left my side.  Freedom was waiting in the distance for me all along.  Freedom was God taking care of me through the whole ordeal and seeing me through to the other side.  Where life is precious and pure and sweet. Freedom led me to a new life where I can now help others as they had once helped me. Freedom came with its own price ~ the scars beneath the surface that may have scabbed over ~ in order for me to survive. But those scars are my battle wounds for my freedom.  I paid the price for a new life.  I earned my freedom.  I survived.

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

My husband is abuse emotionally, physically and financially. He threatens to kill me if I leave him. I have tried to engage his family but they keep defending him. Everyday is a blessing that I am still alive.

I have no idea what I’m doing some days; I feel like I’m just moving in a body that has me up, down, and all around. All my life, I've always had myself. talking to myself was how I got through things. I would read books and teach myself what I needed to know to get by. Last year was my first time talking. Three years ago, I was contacted on Facebook by someone I once thought was family. At first, I was surprised and somewhat excited until I saw his profile picture. From that day forward, I have been in trauma therapy. Last year was my first time telling close loved ones and some family I trust my story. Somedays I wish I hadn’t of told anyone and some days I feel like im strong and I can conquer this and its that people say “if this did happen” to me, I know it did everyone involved knows it did. He reached out to me to tell me he had cancer and wants my forgiveness. How do you forgive someone for stealing your entire life? Life for me started around kindergarten, I lived in Europe I had a mom dad a brother and three sisters. Always knew I got treated different and then I found out why. My mom and dad used to always tell me I was too dark and ugly to be around the family. They used to make fun of me and call me names, one year they forgot my birthday and I got in trouble. The one year they did remember I was actually happy because I got a my little pony it wasn’t the one I wanted But I was still happy. A friend of mine had the one I wanted and I had the one she wanted so being kids we decided to trade. My mom got so upset she made me take a bath she came in the bathroom with the belt and told me to stand up in the water she beat me all the way into my room pick me up and threw me up against the wall holding me by my throat and she told me I had to walk to my friend's house and get my toy back and I was never allowed to play with her again. My dad liked to pick on me. We moved around a couple of times because my dad was in the military eventually we ended up in in the USA. One day we went to visit my grandma and my brother and I we're told we had to stay there. Everyone came to visit to celebrate birthdays and holidays. One birthday event my sister and I got into it our mom yelled downstairs and I say yes mom, the next thing I know my sister turns and looks at me and says “Don't call her your mom she's not your mom your real mom doesn't want you” I found out that day my mom was actually my stepmom her and my dad got a divorce he was somewhere off in the military and she decided to give us to her mom who I thought was my grandma. Life with grandma was her teaching me everything from learning how to tell time to helping with homework to washing dishes and learning how to cook. Then she got a boyfriend all of us kids thought he was the perfect grandpa like you and they got married and he moved in with us. Things were going good and then they started to fight and argue a lot he was stealing money from her and talking to other women she would say something about it and the arguing would lead to mental abuse I'm saying very mean things to her she would still have something to say and then that led to the physical abuse. And then she got sick and didn't wanna walk anymore…. The argument that changed my life ended with” make Namedo it is her time you knew this day was coming anyway” it started with small things I will feel stuff on my legs and my arm and he felt like he was touching me but when I would turn around he'd be watching TV then he started throwing stuff on the floor and making me bend over to pick it up but I had to bend over the right way. Then I started to hear the dragging of the bottom of his house shoes headed towards my door I could see the shadows of his feet I can hear the door knob turn I would hide under my blanket and hold my breath and pretend like I was sleep. I'd hear him walking towards my bed might feel his fingers going up and down my body I'm holding my breath and trying not to cry. The next thing I remember is waking up in the morning I would try to stand up and it would be painful in my stomach I couldn't really explain why so I didn't say anything to grandma then one morning it was red stuff down there and I got scared and said something to grandma she got beat and I realized the more I told her the more he would beat her so I stopped talking. She got caught trying to stick his tongue down my throat one day he came home with this gift for me I thought it was a towel. He laughed and he said no is your dress this is what you will wear from now on when you are cleaning and cooking with no panties. What I know now is it was actually a tube top but because I was 8 years old it fit me like a dress. There was this time he told my grandma he was taking me fishing, we ended up at his brother's house that night ended with his brother's son Running into the room saying enough because I saw him out of the corner of my eye watching as they made me dance for them and bend over…. The most troubling thing in my life concerning this man is the memory that I have of waking up in a room that I didn't recognize with a camcorder facing me as I was laying in the bed that I didn't recognize and my hands were handcuffed to a bed.. him and his brother were off to the side yelling and arguing and at some point his brother who he wanted me to call uncle and I caught each other's eyes but I shut my eyes real fast and pretended like I was sleep.. I remember hearing him say I think she saw me.. I vividly remember him coming to the bed uncuffing one hand pulling the needle out sticking it in my arm and on cuffing my other arm picking me up whispering in my ear go back to sleep you won't remember this I saw his brother leave and the last thing I remember was seeing him close the door to the room and blanket fell over the door And I saw him put the key up top he told his brother to close the door which was located on the side of the house and it went into the back basement…. I remember waking up in a lot of pain…. I went to go tell my grandma and then I remembered I was locked in the basement he's entertaining. So many nights are you suggest sitting on the stairs talked to my grandma through the door because she was told by my stepmom she wasn't allowed to let me out.. My stepmom would pop up and feed me every now and then some crackers bottled water she would throw it at me.. And then one day my dad showed up. He said it would just be Just the three of us.. She said we were moving from one state to another state. At some point we were driving he said he wanted us to take the road trip. Doing that road trip we picked up my baby sister little sister and he stopped in southern state where I met my biological mother for the first time, who are also found out was the same lady that used to call my grandma's house when I heard her voice because I used to answer the phone. Life with my dad I remember going to school with what I know now is called a hangover I remember throwing up a couple of times I was in maybe 4th grade he used to make us stay up at night with him and take tequila shots and he always made me eat the worm in the bottom of the bottle… life with him was military we got inspections on our chores we had to iron our clothes for the whole week everything had to be dress right dressed ,we scrubbed floors with toothbrushes.. my friends were afraid to come to my house. And 4th grade he put a gun in my mouth and he told me I would grow up to be nothing he said my skin was too dark and I was ugly and no man would ever love me people would never take me serious because I was too dark I was too black and people don't like dark skinned women they only use us, he said I would drop out of high school and have a whole bunch of kids by different men and I would be strung out on drugs my brother will be my pimp he told me he hates me because I look so much like my mother and because of that I will be punished every day… and he did just that....

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.

When I was 19 was introduced to a police officer (He was 35) by a mutual friend of ours. I was kind of sheltered and was intrigued by the age gap and buy his power. At first, we hit it off really well and within a couple of weeks started dating, but things went south really quickly. A month or so, he started becoming really possessive and was constantly calling asking where I was who I was with etc. within a month or so of the possessive behavior starting, he introduced me to drugs whenever I was around here, he would make sure that I was so high that I couldn’t say no. He raped me multiple times. I tried to report him to the police station that he worked at, but I could not get anybody to believe me. All they said was that I was just a drug addict and I was seeking attention. Shortly after he started to sex traffic me out to his friends, some of whom were in the police force. during this time we also started going to strip clubs where he would also pimp me out to the men at the strip club. This went on for almost a year until one night at the strip club. I tried to run and get free. Him and his friend caught me and forced me into the trunk of his car where I was driven around and eventually brought back to his home where he held me captive for over two weeks. I eventually escaped and never looked back, but that is not where my nightmare ended. For over a year he stalked me. I had to move five times in the span of a year and a half and every time he found me, he broke into my home multiple times, including several times in the night where he held a gun to my head and threatened to kill me on multiple occasions. The last straw was when he called me and told me that he had given me aids. He did not I think he was just trying to scare me into coming back to him which I did not and I guess he got bored with the game and left me alone. For many years after he would try to call me a couple of times a year under a private number I never answered, and I ran into him more times than I can count as he lived in the same area that I did. He was never prosecuted because I could never get anyone to believe me. This happened 19 years ago and I am still living with PTSD and nightmares.

**Excerpt from my book, Book Title** DEAR RELATIVE: YOU WERE THE REASON You lived among us. My intimate, small, family unit was just what you were looking for to infiltrate. To murder hopes and dreams. All you had to do was look up, and all your dreams and aspirations would come true. All you had to do was to stand in any room below and look up towards the heavens and your dream come true was there sleeping. You looked up and right above your head slept an innocent child that you knew could fulfill your lusts and no one would ever say a word; because no one would believe her. You knew the type of mother I had and how I was being treated. You knew that I was devoid of love and you used that to make me do things to and with you and you did things that should have never been done to me or anyone aged seven and eight. You lived among us. You sought out and retrieved the purity and innocence of an impressionable child, a child who loved unconditionally and dreamed of becoming her world’s savior and patron saint. You see when love was as unconditional as mine, my multifaceted dreams of invincibility and the shiny nightingale syndrome were all doable realities, untouched by human peers with their inordinate, insensitive and mindless babble. Until you! You were a part of my family, living and breathing and growing fifteen steps away from my humble abode. Yes, there were fifteen stairs that separated my home from yours. You came to live with your family. You were welcomed into our home and you truly made yourself at home by siphoning this child’s pure spirit, innocence, and child-like, simplistic, and unconditional nature, which you replaced with hurtful, ugly, filthy, vile, demonic, unnatural impurities of epic proportions. You took advantage of my unfortunate lack of parental love and betrayed me. Did you pray that my mom would send me to that dark place so you could have me? Did you? Don’t lie. It’s way past time to own up to what you did so many years ago. It is way past time for the truth to be told. You STOLE my childhood. You STOLE from me what I should have been able to freely give to my husband, the man given to me by God. You KILLED my womb. You are the reason why I lost a child. You are the reason why I was gang raped. You are the reason why a police officer and a teacher were able to sexually abuse me. You were the reason why men thought they could mistreat me because that was all I knew. You groomed me to be a sex slave and an addict to hurt. You were the reason why love came and never stayed. It wasn’t love. I was a servant to those who lied to me and shamed me into submission. And when they tired of me, they threw me away. You were the reason why I couldn’t care for my children. You were the reason why I couldn’t care for myself. You were the reason why I wanted to die and the reason why I tried. *************************** We continue to harm ourselves by remaining silent. Our silence allows for our lives to remain stagnant and stifled. Your silence prohibits you from living your destiny. We who are abused not only suffer, but our families suffer as well. Even if no one knows what has happened, we do not act the same. We are not the same. Abused men and women may have attitude changes. Sometimes our actions are totally out of character. The people closest to us may receive foul words or we may act irrationally without anyone knowing or understanding why. We know something is wrong, but we have no idea what it could be. Hurt people, hurt people. We wonder why we accept mistreatment from others and we pass off the disrespect from them as something we deserve. Some who are abused gravitate towards their abusers, creating toxic bonds that seem unbreakable and loving but can be debilitating and at times deadly. I did. Those on the receiving end of our hurt don’t deserve the disrespect and or mistreatment either, but it won’t stop if we feel our actions are justified. We use our past as a crutch. Admittedly, just because they won’t do what we tell them doesn’t mean they should be hit on or cussed at unmercifully. Here’s the thing: if you have an issue and a problem and until you see it, and understand it, you won’t get help for it. You are such a wonderful person. That is the way God made you. Those things that may have happened to you were hurtful and degrading and were meant to kill your spirit and your soul. But you proved you are stronger than that. You have beaten the odds and although you may not be completely healed, you are on the right road towards your desired outcome in life, Restoration. Remember, you are not alone. There is no one standing in the way of you achieving your goals except yourself. We can be our own worst enemy. We are truly our own worst critic. Sometimes we even second guess ourselves because someone may have told us a lie that we wholeheartedly believed. They may compare your problems to what they may have experienced in their life in an attempt to belittle your own experience. Do not let anyone keep you from your promise. Not even yourself. You may have been through all of this and possibly more and you may feel like there is no hope for you or that you can’t take it anymore. Yet, you are still here! We are here. Perhaps you can relate to everything you just read because you’ve been through it, or you know someone who has shared their secret with you. Encourage them to speak up and tell someone. Search out those resources, together. Pray. God will send help to you. They will be there for you no matter what. You may have to scream and cry and they’ll have a shoulder and an ear for you. You may need prayer and they’ll pray for and with you. You may not know what you need, and they’ll be there to help you figure it out. Remember, help is on the way. Restoration is on the way. Hope, love, and peace are on the way. Talk to a person who won’t criticize you or try to make you feel like you are the blame for what happened to you. It’s not your fault. Do it for yourself. Do it for your children. Do it for the rest of your life. Keeping silent is like having a closed fist- nothing in and nothing out. You’re locked into your feelings and there’s no one there to help you get out or at least help you to resolve some of the issues and emotions that you may be feeling. Seek professional help. Be open to understanding that there’s hope and that you are not alone. I have faith that is unshakable. I have a love that’s unconditional. I believe that a relationship with Jesus will help you get through those things that are trying to keep you from your journey and from being the person you’re destined to be. He’s available to you. I’m learning that He truly is enough! This is NOT how my story ends; it’s only just begun. We will no longer co-sign the silence.

I’m 20 now; when I was 13 a childhood friend started to see me in a more (clearly) sexual light. I wasn’t very attractive as a child (big curly hair, acne, too tall for my age), so when he began to show interest I didn’t discourage it. I even flirted back. We met at our old middle school, once, before our freshman year of highschool. He didn’t want to look at me, he only wanted to touch me. He kissed me in a way that’s irrepetible because of how violating it was. Once we started highschool, he asked to come over to my house. I thought he was just joking because it was 9pm at the time. He took me behind my apartment complex and wouldn’t listen to me when i said stop. I told one of my sophomore friends, who reported it to the school as a sexual assault. He and I had separate meetings with the school, and our schedules were changed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened, because of how popular he was. He began going around our school telling everyone he had r***d me (he hadn’t). Then he flipped the narrative that, of course i was lying. I would hear girls talking about me when I was sitting right in front of them. I wanted my story to be heard. I wanted everyone to know what he did to me. Nobody listened. Nobody cared. Nobody apologized to me. “He didnt do it to me, and he’s still my friend, sooo….” is what I heard from 80% of the girls that I told. That experience cracked me. When I was 15, I was (ACTUALLY) r***d by a 34 year old man. I felt like I was ruined goods. I felt like nobody cared about what happened to me, nobody cared that I was so traumatized that i didn’t care if i lived or died. Later that year, I met a 19 year old who got me on fentanyl. I would overdose 4 times in front of him. After the last one, he told me I had wasted money and product with my overdose. We stayed together until I was 16.5 and he was about to be 21. He ‘cheated’ on me with a 14 year old and countless of his friends. By 17, I realized my Prince Charming was never going to come save me, and I had to do it myself. I decided to start my own life. Stop living in the past, and get my shit together. I enrolled in community college hoping to get my nursing degree eventually. Realized that wasn’t the right path for me, and now I’m 2 months away from graduating from a prestigious cosmetology school & am the executive assistant at a 5 star salon. For some of us, it’s on ourselves to pick the pieces up and put everything back together. Now that I am 20 years old, I feel that i’ve lost so much time suffering in my silence, so much youth wasted as an anxious puddle who didn’t want to be perceived. Live for your future. Live for the laughter and the smiles. Every day we make it through, is a day we accomplished. Some days will be better than others, but we’re always moving forwards, never backwards.

I was 7 the first time I was ever SA. I still remember every single thing about that day. I was so young that I didn’t know what was happening to me was wrong. But the family member who did it to me, he knew. I told my mom and she didn’t believe me. No one did. In fact, she started abusing me afterwards because I “lied to her”. I’m now 20, and have finally escaped from the awful life I lived, and now know what real love is supposed to feel like. Everyone has a voice, and if no one else has ever believed you, I DO, and i’m always here to listen to anyone. My instagram is instagram account is any of you guys ever need to talk or just need a safe space, because I know I did and I never had one.

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

In the months following my assasult, I grew so angry. Poetry was my outlet, to not be quiet and be as angry as I wanted. 100 pages of poetry marred by tears, anger, betrayal, hope, and happiness. On the 100th page, it was dedicated to survivors, I hope that whoever reads this, will find some degree of comfort as I did when writing it. Dear Survivors, You are more than enough. You are worthy of all the stars and gold combined on this Earth. What happened does not define you, you are more than that. From one to another, it’s tough, it’s difficult. You’ll have your ups and downs, happy moments and miserably haunting ones. But, I’ll say this; Thrive. In all honesty, thriving will be tough. But it’s the best reward there ever will be. You deserve to thrive and live and have fun and experience life. What happened to you does not define you, but it is a part of you. What happened to you is not shameful, what happened to you is not your fault- it never will be. Do not let those around you shame you and beat down on you, quieting you and your story. You are the writer of your own story. You decide if you want to forgive. You decide if you don’t want to forgive. You decide if you want to be the bigger person or not. You get to decide. Don't let anyone else tell you any differently. C.P.

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

I look back and am plagued by doubt. It’s less now but still it creeps in - did it happen? Was I too sensitive? Maybe I made too much of it? Have I remembered it wrong? What I know to be true is how I felt and continue to feel when he is mentioned or I see him. FEAR. It’s been 2 years and I still think about if he will like what I am wearing or will have a comment to make. I question my reality - ‘did that happen? Did I say that?’ In lost interactions with him. I met him on line 14 years ago. Things moved quickly, ish. I didn’t see it then but looking back he was ALWAYS there. He gave his friend keys to my flat and I arrived home with it tidied and reorganized. He thought I was messy and that it was a nice thing to do. I felt utterly overwhelmed and very uncomfortable with this but stayed and thanked him as I was left feeling ungrateful. Interestingly I didn’t introduce him to my friends - in fact I kept him quite separate. I think I knew that I didn’t want them to meet him as something was off and they would probably see it and point it out. Or maybe o was afraid that they wouldn’t see it and wouldn’t point it out so it would make me feel even crazier. He didn’t like how I breathed in his direction in bed. He didn’t like how I fiddled with things. (These all felt ok to change for him……. I really had no self love and held myself with very little worth). The first physical element to the abuse (which I can now name as such) was a confusing incident at the time. He was napping and I woke him and he grabbed me by the throat. I was so shocked and I wanted to run a mile but ended up being told that it was my fault as I woke him too quickly. I was brainwashed already (3 months in). I was hard wired for this though as I had be taught not to trust my instincts - how dangerous this was. I stayed for 12 years, 2 children and gradually faded away. I dreamed of leaving, I said I would over and over and I nearly did once but it took so much courage to do it. I was terrified of the financial implications. I was isolated. I was exhausted. And I did it. He would have ‘waking dreams’ during which he would scream at me, push me, throw things, terrify me but would not remember them in the morning or want to talk about them. He would say ‘ well it wasn’t me, I was asleep’. I went to bed in fear most nights. There were never any bruises you could see but so much had been pulverized internally for me. I was on life support. This is part of my story . A start. It continues as he is in my life as our kids are young. The emotional and psychological abuse continues but I am doing the work to reposition myself. I am taking responsibility for my part in my journey and this is both empowering and exhausting. This abuse is very misunderstood- it is dangerous and invisible. I am learning to believe myself and look to myself for validation and answers. With love

No one should go through what I went through at the hands of my abuser. I found myself in a difficult situation after getting married to my ex-husband, who was and still is the title of one of the Magistrates Courts of that Country. I had a battered and traumatic experience all the 9 years of our marriage (experiences like having seven stitches done on my torn neck, being battered on a weekly basis with men’s leather belt and a big wooden cane made from tree he kept in his private room just for me; often times asked to go on my knees as an act of discipline or preparation to get beaten, internal bleeding, skin bruising, bleeding from my ears, noses, mouth; blows and punches to my face that spills blood from cuts) but because I loved him, his reputation, against the advice of many. I suffered in silence and lived in fear due to the threat to my life. The police failed me as they called him their boss. Escape! Say No More!!!

I was 21 years old when I was swept off my feet by a boy at my college. I was young and so impressionable. I had gotten out of a safe long term high school relationship and had been single for about a year. When I met college boy he gave me everything that my previous relationship had not. He was exciting and popular. He had a lot of party friends and he made me feel like I was his soulmate and that we were meant to be together in such a short amount of time. He played off of all my insecurities and knew exactly what to say to me. I fell in love fast. I was enamored by him. He definitely came with his red flags. He did not have a job, a license (DUI), and he loved drinking and partaking in party drugs. I was newly 21 and in the sorority/ fraternity scene at my college. Life seemed to be full of partying. It all seemed so normal and "cool". I did my first drugs with him and I was hooked off all of these highs he was giving me. I was so hooked that I didn't even notice the first time he was verbally abusive. I told him I needed to run to the store (I had to poop and was scared because he lived with a house full of boys). He said he would go with me. When we got into the car and he realized that was the only reason I needed to "run to the store" he started to get irrationally angry and screamed at me. I was scared but also angry... I yelled back and was put in my place immediately. I knew it was wrong but life with him was so great and we were so in love and that was the first time my boundary was pushed and I chose to ignore it. The next time was when he found out I was taking medication for my anxiety. He shamed me and told me that those pills will make me crazy. That he didn't know I was taking SSRI's or he would have not been okay with it. He punched a hole in the wall by my head and flipped a table trying to hit me. I had my friend pick me up and the next day I was back at his house. He had said he was drinking too much, he apologized, but he also made me believe that I should get off the medication... So I did... Cold turkey. This was the second time my boundary was pushed even further than the last incident and I ignored it. There were many little events that continued to occur in the next few months. I let him know of a serious family trauma that had happened to my family and he told me "my dad was a pussy for the way he handled it". He continued talking shit about my dad and making me feel like this trauma that had happened to us was our fault. I ended up packing up my stuff and walking outside. He came out and apologized (again it was the drinking) and I apologized for "escalating" things as well. I always thought our fights were a two way street and that I was also at fault for what had occurred. Another time he was out extremely late and I kept asking when he would be home. He came home extremely angry, packed up all of my things and told me to get the fuck out and that we were done. I had cried to everyone that he had broken up with me. I told everyone it was my fault for being too needy and pushing him too far. He called me later that night and told me he would forgive me and told me to come home. He started to talk badly about my friends and people in my life and so I slowly started to drift away from them and who I was. I started to lose sight of my moral compass as each boundary was pushed further during every incident that occurred. Then at around 6 months of dating the big event occurred. We were out drinking with friends. We took an Uber home and he brought up his dog that had been wrongfully taken from him (AKA he gave it to someone else and was mad they moved away). I told him to shut up about the dog and he lost it. He got extremely physical with me. I was pushed, choked multiple times and thrown to the ground multiple times. I threw a pot of water boiling that was on the stove to create space between us after he put his hands on me. The look in his eyes after this occurred was one of the scariest moments of my life. He chased me with a knife outside into the street, threw me on the ground, and then ran back inside grabbed a wine bottle and chucked it out into the street at my head. I started to scream yelling "HELP ME HELP ME I AM GOING TO DIE" he went back inside and grabbed all of my things and started cutting them with the knife and throwing them at me. He shattered my phone as well and then he locked me out of the house while I was in the street screaming for help. The police finally came... they took my statement and immediately arrested him. The thoughts I had this entire time were that I regretted escalating anything. I just wanted to go back inside and be with him and go to bed. I screamed for them not to arrest him and the police officer sat me down and explained to me that I was in a domestic violence relationship. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. I did not have a phone so I told him my childhood best friend's phone number and she came and picked me up. The events that followed were horrific. I was not given resources or taken care of. All charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. This was because the police had to come the next day to take pictures of my marks and it was not added into the police report. I went to the doctors and found out I had severe whiplash from the event. It only took 3 weeks for me to get back together with him. After that was one of the best honeymoon phases I had ever experienced. I was convinced he just had an alcohol problem and that I was just as much to blame as he was for the fight. Even though he did not get into any legal trouble the college had found out about what happened because before we got back together I had tried to switch out of the class we shared. They alerted the Title 9 office and there was an investigation. He and his lawyer manipulated me into lying about what happened and telling them that I didn't think he should have any punishment. I did this... he ended up getting suspended for a semester and having to attend a few AA classes. I ended up staying with this man for 4.5 more years. We moved into together, I completely distanced myself from family and friends. No physical abuse was as horrid as that night but the emotional and verbal abuse continued. It also turned into withholding sex because of the way I looked, distancing me from friends and family, breaking my personal items in front of me, punching holes in our walls, lying to me constantly, yelling at me that I am worthless while I am crying on the floor, and just so much more. We even got a dog together and I now realize how abusive he was to our poor pet as well. There were many other bigger traumatic events that also occurred from his drinking during this time too. It was the prolonged exposure to all of this abuse that really had the biggest effect on me. Here I am 3 and half years out of this relationship now. I just accepted that I was truly in an abusive relationship because the gaslighting started to become something my brain naturally did to myself. I did not trust myself nor my feelings. I have had to rely on other people to validate everything for me because I do not know what feelings are deserved and what aren't. I have learned that all feelings are deserved to be felt. I am married now and in an extremely healthy relationship after having to move back to my hometown after the break up. I have found myself again and connected to my inner child. I have been in therapy for the entire time post-breakup and this has helped a lot. I was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and this diagnosis has helped me with my healing as well. It has also helped me with truly validating myself and what I repeatedly went through. I am realizing that some of these things will now be engrained in me forever and that I have to accept myself for who I am and what I have been through. I have to know I am a stronger and more empathetic human that is able to deeply appreciate life and healthy relationships that I have now. Everything is more colorful and beautiful because of all the dark things I have been through. I continue to work on myself and I have now reached a point where I feel I am ready to help others. I hope this story is a start. It does not include everything but it does include a basis of that 5 year relationship that changed me forever. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

My memory is no longer present. Attempted molestation as a child by a cousin, luckily my grandmother told me how to get out of these situations. Once he began to undress I made up a story and ran out of the room to let her know what had happened. I still had to see him at family events throughout the years because his dad supported him and did not believe me. My grandmother always believed me. At 16, my first time (if you can even call it that) was a sexual assault in my own home. My boyfriend at the time assaulted me, his cousin saw and I locked eyes for help but he just walked away. I had to hold this secret from my mother, afraid she would blame herself. I ended in a relationship with my perpetrator out of fear until I was strong enough to break away with support from friends. A few months later I was assaulted again by a college student on campus. My friend at the time had walked outside and he threw me down. Once she came back in, she was yelling for us and I threw a pen into the next room, which hit something to make a bang, as she came closer, he finally stopped. So much coercion I couldn't even tell you, sometimes it's hard to remember what was real. Now I try to be the person I needed. I support survivors with whatever decision they want to make, but let them know they are never alone. Thank goodness for our local sexual violence resource center to be there to provide healing. I wish I had known about this service when I needed it.

I want to share my experiences, as I have many times but never in print or where I can leave it for other survivors to read. I want you to know that you ARE better than the abuse you might be receiving. You ARE amazing. You ARE resilient and can absolutely do whatever you set your mind to. I was in an abusive relationship for 8 years. Of course the abuse started slowly, so slowly I could write it off as my fault or an accident. I lived with a friend at 21 and met the man who would eventually become my children's father. I remember telling my friend that he had shoved me on the bed, directly on my cat so I might hurt her too. I remember that friend telling me "He reminds me of my ex-husband, the one who broke my jaw for catching him cheating on me" and of course I didn't listen. Slowly the abuse got worse physically, mentally, emotionally. Eventually I started to fight back, not physically but would try to talk him down or just defend myself and he would rape me, as a point to show me who was still in control. I had out of body experiences- got knocked out by force- to wake up locked away in a hotel room with my keys gone and phone taken so I couldn't call for help. I loved him and couldn't bear to call the police on him- by this time I knew he was here illegally. I knew most of his family were here illegally. They would sit around the living room hearing me getting my ass handed to me and in the beginning I wondered why they wouldn't interfere- I later learned that if anyone interfered then my beating got worse because "you're cheating on me with HIM" or something similar. A couple years go by and most of my friends have moved on or were disgusted that I stayed with him- I was pretty good at hiding what was really going on because he loved hitting me where most people wouldn't see a bruise. I truly believed that I could help him, or fix him, because his childhood was rough growing up in the mountainous countryside of location and his father was abusive. Plus I knew that for the most part their women are brought up submissive, so it was all acceptable for a long time. I made excuses for him and he would cry to me and say "I know it's wrong but I can't help it, I watched it my whole life- watched my mother die because of my father." Plus he crossed the border when he was about 16 and was traumatized from that also. He just knew how to manipulate me and my emotions and for years I had no idea. I was attending college while pregnant at 25 and my classmates knew and tried to help me but I wasn't ready yet. Not until he hit me and split my eyebrow open with his fist when I was 6 months pregnant. My mom dragged me to the police station and wouldn't let me leave until I pressed charges against him. That was when she learned about my years of abuse- my family suspected but I was good at hiding it. It took me having my little girl - my saving grace, my reason for waking up back then- to learn I was better than the abuse I was getting. I realized that I didn't want her growing up in that kind of environment, never wanted her to think that any sort of abuse is okay or even remotely acceptable. That was when I started thinking about leaving him. That's when God shows up glaringly obvious to me then- he gets arrested. Finally I have one foot out the door. Then 2. Then I lose that apartment we were living in because I had been on HUD and he wasn't supposed to be there. I go back to my parents house with my 1 year old daughter. A year later I get pregnant once more by him. By this time I am self-medicating for depression/anxiety/PTSD and trying to fill that void left behind by him. He had introduced me to drugs and snorting pills during our relationship. I was struggling with answering/not answering the phone when he called and jumping when he asked for things. By all rights, my 2nd child should have been born with withdrawals and once again God showed up for me and my child. A month prior to her birth I went to church and without even knowing me that pastor spoke to my soul and him and his congregation healed my unborn child. Today my girls are age 1 &age 2years old and thriving. My little savior and miracle child. Their father was deported a few years ago and he stopped calling/checking in on our girls. They know what kind of person he was and how he treated me and they don't really want anything to do with him though they have attempted to reach him via FB because they want answers. They want to know why he doesn't try to call them anymore, why he hurt me. I have never wanted to be that parent who keeps their kids from the other parent. My mom struggles with that concept but honors it for them. I want my kids to decide whether they want him in their life or not though he seems to have made that choice for them. He has always been selfish. 18 years later I still struggle with my self worth, have struggled to stay clean. I am strong, I am resilient, I am a great mom. I love myself Most days. Most days I know my worth, though I have been in a relationship with someone I thought was perfect for me but now I struggle with whether or not this relationship is healthy.