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After over a decade, I'm just now coming out of a fog and realizing I've been abused since before we even married. I feel so lost right now. I'm trying to forgive myself, love myself, and gain strength, all while still having to be married to my abuser. I want to leave but don't have the resources to. And I cannot stomach the thought of my children having to suffer even weekend visits with him without me there as a shield. I'm so exhausted. I'm so hurt and angry and sad. He's abused me physically, emotionally, mentally, and financially. I feel so trapped and don't really see a way out for me and my kids. When I watched It Ends With Us, I related so much because I knew exactly how it felt to look back and finally realize what had actually happened. I am just now processing so much that I didn't feel safe enough to even consider was abuse before. It's hard and sometimes I want to hide from it all, but I know the only way to heal and somehow leave is to face what I've been through head on and make a plan to escape.

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

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

I grew up in an emotionally and mentally abusive household. I never knew when I’d be in trouble next, and the feeling of walking on eggshells created in me a need for hyper-vigilance. I became angrier the older I got, and when I was 17, I ran down the steps to try and intervene when my dad was yelling in my mom’s face. He chased me up the steps, and I was able to lock myself in my room. Even though I was never smacked in my face or punched or even beat, I was spanked within an inch of my life. Quite often I could barely sit, and it really did a number on me. I swore I’d never get married if this was what marriage was all about. I am very thankful I was able to break that cycle, and today I am married to a very passionate, loving husband who promised to keep me safe and has kept his promise. There is light at the end of the tunnel. You can break that cycle of abuse. It has taken me years to try and undo the damage that was done to me, and even now, I still struggle with the PTSD and automatic jumping if someone steps too quickly or raises their voice a bit too loudly. But I am thankful I have been able to raise my own kids much differently and show them how healthy relationships work.

I am here today alive and healing after 22.5 years of physical, emotional and sexual abuse. The world does not understand, therefore they choose to judge you not understanding that it is a control game with the abuser. The abuser makes the rules, breaks the rules....it is the abuser's game. NO MORE. After throwing him out I thought I could fix myself. First let me say YOU ARE ENOUGH, YOU ARE WORTHY, YOU ARE LOVED! Don't be Silent anymore! I use to think I was alone. Have you ever heard the phrase "Look what you made me do"? He made me feel that I could fix and make it better so he would not beat me anymore. You can't fix what you did not break. I was not the issue He was. I gave up after he threatened to Kill me many times and of course when the kids came along If I did not do what he wanted he threatened to kill them. As is said here NO MORE! The Shame, Guilt you feel is because of your abuser....just like mine was. Get Out first there are people to help and protect you! He threatened to kill our daughter when I finally said ENOUGH! The last 3 years the journey has been hard after 15 years of believing I could fix myself. I get counseling for my anxiety, PTSD and Depression. Never Give Up! I learned my Husband was a liar said he loved me, that is not Love. You deserve better!!!!! Get Out, Get Help................I love you!

My ex-husband verbally, sexually, mentally and physically abused me during our marriage. He tried to force me to have sex with others for money and luckily I was able to prevent that from happening; but not with out consequence. A miscarriage during our marriage forced me to see a therapist and working with her for almost two years gave me the strength to leave. It’s been over 25 years since I left and I still live with PTSD stemming from the abuse. I have since remarried and have two teenage children. They were little I have always talked to them about what a healthy relationship is, how to recognize potentially abusive behavior and to say “NO MORE”. My kids talk to their friends about what they have learned at home. I speak about IPV/DV to youth groups and to their advisors about what to look for, how to deal with and provide resources for help. I will continue to say “NO MORE” until the day comes when we don’t have to say it.

As a young adult I was exposed to internet pornography. Curiosity drew me in more and more and eventually I became addicted to it. I spent the next 17 years struggling with it off and on, wanting to stop but not knowing how. When I started to learn how porn perpetuates sex trafficking, I became more motivated to find recovery. I also felt deeply convicted when I began to learn that a significant amount of internet pornography contained non-consensual content. I didn’t realize how consuming it created more and more demand. I’ve finally gotten free from that habit and have been for almost 6 years now. Now I’m at a place where I’ve found opportunities to help other men get free and raise awareness on the harm of porn and the abuse it perpetuates. I have so much passion and hope now. I KNOW consumers/abusers can change through self-disgust, remorse, and empathy. Hearing survivor stories encourages me so much and I look forward to efforts that elevate their voices. I hope my journey continues to bring healing, hope, and healthy dialogue to others and their journeys.

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

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

When I was 11 yrs old i was raped by three boys. We had just moved to the place i live now. I never told anyone until i was in high school. I lived with guilt and self harm for yrs over the incident until in therapy i learned that it wasnotmy fault and those boys had no right to do that. I try and help people by sharing my story. We should speak out about it

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

After seeing 'It Ends With Us', I felt I wanted to share my story. I saw this movie alone for the first watch, brought my Atlas to the second, and my bestfriend to the third. Watching it left me feeling empowered to anonymously share my story of abuse and violence. The film and the book brought back so many raw emotions, ones that I still struggle with today. My story started when I was 16 years old and I was with my first 'love', everything was OK in the beginning - but suddenly everything changed. I was constantly told how worthless I was, I got pushed down his stairs - but I wouldn't leave - and I didn't know why. He was controlling and did not like other people talking to me, going to extreme lengths to stop this from happening, and making sure my friends did not see me - people who he saw as a threat. I ended up in the hospital because of him, where he broke my hand. He got that mad at me once, we were in his car and just before I could shut the door and put on my seat belt, he started driving recklessly to scare me. What scared me more was when I was sleeping and I felt his hands around my throat - with no explanation. There were many times that I would say stop and he would carry on because he told me he was in control. I had cigarettes put out on me -multiple times, and was told that I was disgusting and looked like a sl*t, even telling me I was 'fat' - which led to further health issues. When I ended up with a bruise, my friend who is now my Atlas noticed - we worked together. I confined in him, and he was the first person to properly listen to me, and let me share my experiences. Throughout all this, it brought me overwhelming anxiety and depression and even the lengths of having to have therapy because to me it was a nightmare even when it was over, and reported multiple times. My parents never understood, asking me why I didn't just leave, telling me I must've wanted it to carry on. I didn't. I'm nearly 10 years later now, with my Atlas of 5 years, feeling happier and in a better place physically and mentally - I'm still healing. This movie brought me to tears and I related so much to Lily Bloom - some of it felt like my experiences - but the film also brought me a type of feeling of freedom and happiness. Thank you for letting me share my story. ❤️

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

when I was 13, I got my first boyfriend. he was my first kiss. I have since found that I am a lesbian and it was extremely hard to break out of the heteronormative cycle I was in. my mom loved my first boyfriend, we had been in the same grade school class since we were 5 years old and she said that one day we would get married. I knew he had a crush on me the entire time and eventually, I grew curious. he kept asking me to kiss him and I was hesitant, but it got to the point where I just did it to make him stop. I guess he grew comfortable enough around me that he felt he could get away with anything around me. he would smack my bum a lot, which I thought was just playful so I did it back to him. he wanted more from me and groped my chest without asking. I felt so dirty when he did it. it felt like I had to grow up right in that moment. I pulled his hand away but I didn't stop kissing him, I felt like that was what he wanted so I gave it to him. I got so in my head about it that I distanced myself from him and severed our relationship. I tried to tell my mom but she dismissed my being upset with him being 'handsy'. she was so proud of our relationship that I think I was only doing it to make her happy. I still don’t understand what happened, and I'm 21 now. if a full-grown man did that to me it would be mortifying to others. but we were both kids and I haven't stopped thinking about it for years. is that sexual assault? I feel like it's my fault that I led him on like that. and that this isn't as big of a deal as I'm making it out to be. why do I feel this way? we were 13 and I still feel violated and ignored, it's been 7 years. why is this so hard to get over? I'm graduating college soon with a degree in criminal justice, I want to be a victim's advocate. maybe some other 13-year-old girl can tell her mom and she will know where to go to understand what happened to her. I want to be the person to help but I still don’t understand what happened to me. why am I like this?

I've been on this road to healing for a very long time. I was with a man that at first was my friend, we were together for 4.5 years. In the beginning things seemed okay. We shared our dreams and I started college. I expressly told him I was there on a scholarship and would only be focusing on school and would come back down on the weekends. Once I started my first semester I should've paid more attention to all the red flags. He would text me and call me at all hours. He'd Skype me any time I had 5 minutes of a break. Mind you I was a naval cadet at my school so I didn't get many breaks especially with classes that were 4 hours long. I eventually started having panic attacks from his constant berating and checking that I wasn't doing anything I wasn't supposed to be doing like cheating. Eventually I had to drop out of being a cadet to being a commuter student which meant being home with him after classes and waking up extra early just to get to class on time. It was even more difficult for me because of his obsessive gaming habit of playing video games until 3 am which is the time I had to be up to get ready for my first morning classes. Eventually I started losing sleep and my grades started slipping. I had to drop out of college for a while to make things easier on myself. I ended up giving up on my dream of being a marine biologist and naval cadet to be with this man. A man that had no job no GED no future. But he would constantly promise that things would get better. At this point I had two jobs just to keep us afloat, and feeding his habits. But little did I know he was selling my stuff on top of everything and the little money I was saving for myself he stole and started using for his habit as well. I switched majors two more times after that and finally stuck to psychology without telling him my final major, just that I wanted to finish school. But it was difficult juggling school and two jobs but I had to because I wasn't allowed to go back to my family ( I had a difficult relationship with them at the time). Because of all the long hours and night courses I was taking, the man I was with started to suspect me of cheating and would constantly fight me at all hours and would start ripping apart my bags and looking through my phone and laptop just to see if he could find any evidence. He'd berate me to his friends and anyone that would listen. I started getting back into my drug habit, which I had previously given up, due to his increasing behavior. he would always put me down calling me a whore a slut a bitch that didn't know how to do anything. Mind you I was the one with the job, but id have to come home to cook to clean to take care of his mess when he was the one home 24/7. When I would try to help him get set up with GED courses or a job he would say things like "I don't need a GED I'm smarter than anyone with a degree" or "why do I need your help when I can do any and everything myself and better". By the time I started working at the Y, I couldn't speak to or see my family or friends. At the same time my beloved grandfather, the man who raised me, was diagnosed with stage 2 pancreatic cancer. I was extremely close to him and when I expressed my fears to my partner's family his sisters and his mother were always so kind to me and always supported me. But he immediately would say I deserved all the pain and suffering and that I shouldn't cry because only good people deserve to feel sad. He'd say I was the scum of the earth and didn't deserve happiness. I'd start sneaking out after work just to see and tend to my grandfather. Id go on days when classes were canceled or when I didn't have work and accompany him to chemo sessions. I would move my schedules around just to spend time with him. But my ex had a friend that worked at the same Y I did, and she started telling him what I was doing thinking she was helping me. Instead he took this as continued disrespect and started beating me daily. I started wearing longer sleeves and thicker clothes and makeup just to cover the bruises up. (Because of this I started developing a love for movie makeup which helped my later investment in my Dad's film company.) I started making friends again and they noticed the clothes especially in the summers and I would just say that it would be inappropriate to subject the children to the tattoos that I have. But eventually they started catching on and one day I slipped because I came in after taking my grandfather to chemo and didn't have time to fix the makeup on my neck. I was able to fix it before my site director or any of the parents noticed. My partner started to force himself on me sexually after I showed little interest and started keeping to myself or spending more time with his sisters. Id wake up to him on top of me and he'd beat me if I fought him. I became pregnant and the beating continued with him believing the child wasn't his. But he beat me so bad one day that I miscarried and he blamed me for killing our child. He beat me so bad that day that he cracked a disc in my spine pinching my sciatic nerve causing me partial paralysis and dropfoot in my right leg. he started drinking heavily after I lost our child. he terminated my phone contract which we entered into only a few months prior, causing me to end up in debt, then he stole the rest of the money from my savings to fund his gaming. This ended up causing me to fall behind on payments for the new furniture I had purchased, which I eventually had to give to his mother. I started talking to someone I had previously dated (we ended things amicable and saw each other as really close friends) for advice and solace. while I understand that this would be technically emotional cheating, I was starting to no longer have feelings for my partner and lost myself. My grandfather, who was with us for 3 more years after his diagnosis, eventually got severely sick and ended up in an induced coma for 3 months. I became severely depressed and disconnected from everything and everyone. I became so numb to the beatings and rapes that I would be terrified to close my eyes. I started staying up at night afraid to lay down or even cover myself with any blankets. I would curl up in a corner by the window and that would be the only time he would leave me alone. My grandfather died in December 2019 and the day he passed my partner broke up with me stating that I deserved all the pain and heartbreak I was suffering and that I would never find happiness. He walked away and laughed at my pain saying my grandfather was just an old man who meant nothing. He had forbidden me from undergoing the surgery that would fix my spine, but without him knowing I agreed to the surgery. I moved back in with my grandmother a few months later in February of 2020 by packing up what I could including important documents and sneaking out at 4am to go to the hospital for my surgery. My father picked me up from the hospital and took me to my grandmother's home. In the safety of my family I confirmed with my ex that I would never again be with him. I told him I no longer wanted anything to do with him no contact either physically or electronically. A few days later he came by with more of my stuff and told me that he would only take me back if I never slept with anyone else after him. I told him he no longer had that control over me so he had no right to ask that of me. I asked him to leave. During the healing period of my spinal surgery he harassed me continuously even going so far as to say he would kill himself if I didn't take him back. This lasted for months and I didn't know what to do. I forced myself into therapy and tried to ignore him as long as possible. With the help of my therapist I was slowly able to block him and start healing. I started working in mental health and social work a few months later. I eventually met my now fiancee who has been my number one supporter. He has even come to therapy sessions with me and has made sure that I always put myself first. I currently work in DV and GBV helping others that have or are going through wheat I went through. I plan on becoming a therapist eventually once I finish my MBA. I also put my makeup skills to use by helping my father on his films with makeup and special effects makeup. My fiancee and I are getting married this year and it's been such a long journey but there are times I still have random memories or ptsd symptoms, but with the help of my friends and family I am able to work through it all. I hope my story gives someone the courage they need to leave before it's too late.

I was in a abusive marriage for many years. I never told anyone and was incredibly ashamed of myself and what I was allowing to happen. He was a military man. We moved around and I had few friends. We had children. One girl from my previous relationship and 2 children together. He sexually abused me. The last time resulted in my 3rd child. Years later my oldest child told me he was "touching" her. I reported it immediately and ne er doubted my child. A few months later, my 2nd child told me the same. He had raped her. Needless to say, I reported both abuses. And I left him. Moved out of state. He did some prison time, remarried and has built a new life for himself. 20 years later I am still angry, full of hate towards him and sickened by the thought of him. He was a registered sex offender, but after 20 years he petitioned to be removed. Time goes by and I'm okay. Other times I am depressed, full of anger, sadness, bitterness, grief & so much more. Not sure what I want to do? Do I need more therapy? Do I have Ptsd? My kids thank goodness, have turned out well. Me, sometimes I wonder.

On Date, I escaped an abusive relationship and embraced the freedom of living without my abuser’s control. Just four months later, he was sentenced to five years in prison for the abuse he inflicted upon me. Although it felt like an eternity to reach that day, I’m grateful I didn’t have to wait as long as some survivors do. Many survivors never experience justice; some victims never become survivors. Life will never be the same for either of us or our families, especially our children. What's beautiful is that I am no longer the woman who accepts abusive behavior in any form. I don’t want to be the woman who tolerates less than what I deserve because I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be the woman who dims my light so that the man I love can shine brighter. I don’t want to be the woman who hurts myself in an attempt to save a broken man. Had my abuser had his way, I wouldn’t be here today. My children’s world would be a lot different. I have an amazing circle of family, friends, and coworkers who have supported me the best way they know how during this difficult and very emotional time. I love them and thank them for loving me by showing up and being there. I am now able to fully enjoy my children and live for them every day. I show up for them, strive to be the best version of myself, lead them, and love them by loving myself. It’s easy to say that life is a gift until you face a moment when you realize it could be taken away. I still have triggers and am taking it one day at a time. I have accepted that some people don’t deserve to be in my life. I am choosing me! I am choosing real love! I am choosing healthy relationships!

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

As I walk this journey that I never thought I would, I am reminded of what I am thankful for. My kids, parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, nephews, nieces, and true friends. The way these people have held me up when I have fallen has been incredible. I used to be worried about what people thought of me, mostly the lies that have been said. Everyone told me, people who truly know you, know that none of it is true. They are right. Why would I want anyone in my life that could believe it anyway? I guess it hurts to think people who said they were family and friends believe it. But I have to remind myself, they also believe he is a good person, so their judgment is way off. I am a domestic violence survivor. I will say it louder for the people in the back... I AM A DOMESTIC VIOLENCE SURVIVOR. For 17 years I was beaten off and on. No, he didn't beat me every day, and yes, he would go months without raising a hand. I probably had a least 3 concussions, too many black eyes to count, I couldn't even begin to count how many times I have been punched in the head and face, and my jaw has been broken (not medical confirmed but when you can't bite down for weeks, your jaw doesn't line up and your teeth were separating and now crooked, it is broken), and dislocated once, a knee injury that lasted months, burned, spat on, head split open twice where I lost some much blood I am almost passed out, broken/bruised ribs, too many bruises on arms and legs to count. When he was in an episode, the fear I felt was like no other. I have to say going to sleep at night was the worst, not knowing if I would wake up in the morning by being beaten to wake. It is a strange feeling that you are happy when the bruise can be covered by clothes or think why can't he punch me somewhere other than my jaw so I can eat? But, I have to say the mental and verbal abuse was just as bad. I have been accused of everything under the sun. I have been called every name in the book. I have been accused of stalking him, tapping into his phone, bugging our wifi, and putting cameras in our home to communicate with "my boyfriend". When I picked clothes to wear, he was always in the back of my brain of what he thought. I didn't wear a skirt or dress to work for 17 years because one night he told me it was easy to access as he pushed me into the tub and beat me. The color and style of my underwear .. l did wear anything lacy during the week. I got nervous any time my phone rang or a text. I blew off my former supervisor every administrator day for lunch because I didn't want to have to tell him I went out to lunch with a man. I stopped eating lunch with my friends in the break room because of his accusation that I was sleeping with my co-worker. I have been accused of having an affair at every job I have had. Why, because I never went anywhere during the evenings or weekends. I have taken 2 lie detector tests at the beginning of my marriage. I passed both but he would tell you now I didn't. He is good at rewriting history. The ironic part, he is the one who cheated. He was in love with an affair and continued for months. And confessed to sleeping with two other women he worked with. They say their accusations are the closest thing you will get to a confession. I guess that I why I was accused of sleeping with coworkers. And I forgave him. But I now know the main reason I did was that I was afraid. Afraid to do all on my own. Afraid to go back to my parents who had been right about him all along. Afraid of the unknown and what my life would look like. And I now know I had nothing to be afraid of. My family embraced me and helped heal me. Those fears don't go away the minute you are safe. I realized this when I walked into the parking lot of our son's soccer game when he was arguing with me. We both walked between two SUVs where no one could see us with him behind me and my first thought "he is going to hit me". But this time my second thought was "If he does, I am calling the police". He has stalked me to the point my brother-in-law made me get pepper spray. After a year and a half of therapy, I realized he started grooming as soon as our relationship started. Telling me he loved me 3 weeks into our relationship should have been the first red flag but at 20, I just didn't see it. I realized I never was in love with him, I was in love with the lie of who he wanted me to believe he was. He is really good at projecting himself as a good person, he has fooled many many people. But more people saw him for who he really was and now aren't afraid to tell me. See what people who are not in an abusive relationship don't understand is there is a trauma bond that forms. Trauma bonding makes you psychologically addicted to your abuser. This explains why trying to stop contact feels like you are coming off a drug . ... Trauma bonding involves cycles of abuse - following an abusive incident or series of incidents, perpetrators will often offer a kind gesture to try to recover the situation. When he came out of an abusive episode, he was the sweetest man. It was all a lie. It is hard to know that your life was one big lie for 21 years. I feel like it isn't a new chapter I am entering into; it is a completely new book. I am not the person I was for 21 years. I am fearless, strong, independent, and a better person. I am happier now than I have ever been in my life. I can breathe for the first time. I have my power back. I know I will make mistakes but it is a freeing feeling to know that it is ok. No one is going to scream at me or put me down. To know I can grow and thrive without someone trying to stop me. This new book is going to be an amazing ride and I can't wait to read it.