Community

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

My first experience was with an ex girlfriend when I was still young, I didn’t know that when they wouldn’t take no for an aswer and I gave in, it would make me feel so horrible. I continued to date her and give in to her whims until she left me. The next time was similar, but it made me feel even more terrible because that’s when I knew he only wanted to date me to fuck me. We didn’t get very far before being caught, and the relief I felt for being found was incredible, but the shame was unbearable and gut wrenching. Five years after, still struggling with the burden of my previous experiences, struggling with the shame, I couldn’t talk about it with anyone. I went to a house party to see an online friend from overseas, there was only one other girl at that party and I immediately felt unsafe. I was right. I can not say what was done to me while I was drunk off my ass, or while I was half asleep in bed, but again I feel shame for not being able to fight back, for being so scared that after my no or my drunken state weren’t taken seriously, I just gave in again. I feel dirty, I feel like a burden for being traumatized, I feel like a whiny bitch for feeling like this when there are others who have gone through so much more.

If you are reading this please know you are not alone. When I was 15 years old and had just gotten back from eating disorder treatment, I was lonely, lost, and vulnerable. I had zero sexual experience, in fact I had never had my first kiss yet. One night I went to a small party, and drank a lot without knowing my limits because I had never drank before. Long story short, I blacked out and only remember bits and pieces of the night. Unfortunately I have a few memories that I can never forget. A completely sober boy came to the party and ended up taking advantage of me. I remember waking up the next day in pain and I found blood all over my shorts. I convinced myself I asked for that to happen and it was my fault. As much as it disgust me to say, I even felt somewhat special that anybody would even find me attractive enough to have sex with. I was confused and didn’t understand. A lot happened after that night and I ultimately felt like a used piece of trash that had already been thrown out. It took me awhile to understand what had really happened to me. I’ve been working on my healing journey for years since that night, but still find myself struggling constantly. I still sometimes question if maybe I’m just being dramatic and im the only one to blame for what happened. I know deep down that’s not true, but it’a a difficult thing to process. Honestly, I am angry. I’m angry that this boy has never and will never take accountability and that he gets to live a life without the trauma and pain I feel everyday. I feel heartbroken for myself and all other victims who have experienced SA. My ultimate goal in sharing my story is that at least one person can relate and feel less lonely. I want them to realize that what happened to them is not their fault and I believe them. I hope you all know how important you are.

My name is Name, I’m an indigenous person from Place, USA. I’m a daughter, sister, mother, and a Survivor. I never really thought that I would end up in the relationships I ended up in but, here I am sharing my story! The last 12 years of my life I had been in and out of relationships, had two sons out of two of those relationships. They are the best parts of those relationships and times in my life. I know they in some way saved me and helped me survive to be here today sharing. My last two relationships I were in, were the worst abusive relationships. My youngest son came out of one of them, and to this day I still have to deal with one of my abusers because we have a child together. In that relationship I was physically, emotionally, mentally, financially, and sexually abused. I went through things that I didn’t even know that happened until the next day or days after. My ex we can call him Nameabused me mostly when he was already drunk, it was always when we were drinking that he would start arguments with me or his jealousy would come out more. Little did I know that at one time he had sexually assaulted me while I had passed out from drinking and when I woke up asking if something happened; something didn’t feel right. Nametold me “yeah you don’t remember?” And clearly I had no clue but according to him “I wanted it!” But how could I even know that or even say “yes” to anything being passed out. This was the first time he raped me but it wasn’t the last. Nameand I were in a relationship for 3 1/2 years in that time he physically would hurt me, force himself on me or take advantage of me while I was sleeping . It became unsettling to sleep at night knowing something might happen. At that time I was also taking care of my oldest son from a previous marriage and my youngest who was a baby on top of working full time. So I was exhausted from everything. I used to wake up to either text messages saying how worthless I was or name calling me because I had fallen asleep and not awake when he would get home. Or I would wake up to him yelling at me because I was defending myself in my sleep as he was trying to sexually assault me. Everything became my fault according to him. It was so dysfunctional, that at that time I was even drinking heavily. The pandemic hit and that was the beginning of the end of our relationship, I was so exhausted, depressed, just at the point of breaking! Our last fight ended with him calling the police on me and turning the narrative like I was the aggressor because he had spammed me on the ground and was hurting me, I defended myself, I felt so misunderstood and betrayed especially when the police wouldn’t let me speak and listen to me. I know now I’m not the only woman this has happened to in domestic violence situations. I take that as that was my way out yeah I got booked, finger printed and had charges which in the end Namedidn’t want either for me because he knew I didn’t do anything. In his words he just called them to “calm me down” he honestly thought I would go back to him after that NOPE! That was the end of it my freedom from him, with my sons. At that time I thought I would never get back into a relationship like that again, I knew the signs; I thought I knew it all! BOY was I wrong! My life at that time was spiraling out of control, I was lost but yet still thinking that I was completely mentally okay! I was dating and still drinking, I was rebellious at that time. It was almost a year later that I ended up meeting my last abuser, the one that almost ended my life! They say something you repeat things until you learn the lesson and I sure did that! This guy was handsome, charming, everything I ever wanted in a guy or so I thought! I’ll call him Name for the purpose of privacy reasons, but he really put on a great performance and mask! He was a small business owner and he made himself seem like he was down on his luck. He used the fact that I was previously in an abusive relationship as away to get close to me and give me false promises. Name promised me the entire world, I was “the best thing to ever happen to him!” And he was going to treat me the way I always should’ve been treated. Things went very fast for us when we first met. Our first meeting he was already referring me as his girlfriend. At the time I thought it was just so sweet and I felt like I was dreaming. For the first two months our relationship was amazing, he was good with my sons, and my family liked him. But at that point he definitely showed me a side of him that I didn’t like his jealousy. He made it clear that I couldn’t tapk to anyone of the opposite sex or have friends that were either. He slowly cut me off from everyone and everything! I quit my job because he told me to in the end and that I would be better working for him. Which that was a huge mistake! He and I were together 24/7 and it got to the point that where he started to verbally abuse me; his words were hurtful! He would tell me if I just listened and he obeyed him then none of it would happen but if I counted to be “bad” then he would continue to get mad at me. It wasn’t until about 6 months into our relationship is when Name became physically abusive with me. The first time it happened I was completely scared out of my mind, I froze, I was crying but I was told to be quiet or it would be worse. After that every time he would get mad at me I would be physically hurt on top of being verbally, emotionally, mentally, and financially abused. Those were the darkest moments of my life, there were days that I thought I would never get out of it. I felt trapped, and alone. Name made me completely dependent on him and I had to ask him to do anything right down to using the bathroom. I did nothing alone, showering, getting dressed, taking care of myself when it was that time of the month all of it! I was his prisoner! He would refer to me as his “Indian Slave” amount other very racially charged names that were so mean and hateful! He told me that if I ever left he would blackmail me, he kept complete control over me. He got my addicted to substances that I had never even done in my life, even doing drugs I had never even thought I would do! All to keep me under his control! This was a daily thing every day to obey him and if I didn’t then he would get mad for hours even days u til he would get over whatever he was mad at me about and then things would be “normal” for about a day or two then right back into it again. It was a sick cycle! I was exhausted mentally and physically! Survival mode every day is a lot for a person. The last and final time he abused me was complete torture, he tortured me for 3 to 4 hours and in that time He almost took my life! He strangled me to the point I couldn’t breathe, I lost my sight, the ability to see, and hear! I was close to dying! When he finally let go and I came back I knew I had to find away out, after being physically hurt more after that, hours had past he made me fall asleep with him. When we woke up I knew then I had to get my son who was in another room away from me and run! Somehow, someway I did just that, Name tried to hold me son against me not letting me take him, but it was my voice of screaming for my son that I was able to pick him up and run into the woods with him. It was the only thing I could think of to do and doing that with the clothes I had on and the clothes my son (youngest) had on I saved our lives, I ran to safety I knew the way I was going that the police station would be there. That was the motivation for me to keep going, thankfully someone had seen me with my son running and they called the police along with others who had called before, letting them know “hey this woman and child need help!” And they did I managed to make it on the main road and I was scared walking looking around hoping that Name wouldn’t drive up and try to take us or worse run us over, I almost asked someone for help but it was at that moment that I had looked up and saw the police coming right at me! I was all kinds of emotions, happy, sad, sacred, relieved! I told them what happened and I’m so glad I did as scary as it was to speak up it was the best decision I made for myself and my youngest son my oldest son thankfully want there at the time. But I knew that this was the time that I either needed to smarten up or I was going to end up not being here! I finally said to myself I learned my lesson and now I must truly, truly that this serious and heal from this and take a good look at myself so that this doesn’t happen to me again in any relationship. That was just over two years ago now and my abuser has been in prison for what he did to me, he got sentenced to 9 years, but he only has to do 5 years then he can get put on probation with speculations if he violates that then he goes back to prison for 4 years. I am one of three women that he has abused, I was the third one to speak out and the first one to put him prison for domestic violence. I’m in therapy and counseling for all the abuse I’ve been through and have been single since this all happened I’m taking my time, being smart about it all not rushing anything. I also will always speak out and share my story to help others because no one deserves to be treated this way! This wasn’t love! Love isn’t supposed to hurt like that or almost get one killed over it! So if my story can help others I’ll always continue to share. Thank you for letting me share this on here for others!

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 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.

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 got out of an abusive relationship. It wasn’t till I left there was physical abuse and emotional abuse. Even if the physical was minimal. I’m so glad to be apart of a group of women who are healing. Healing is hard, it’s been countless sleepless nights, extra periods, and nightmares over and over. But the reward of being free is so much better than anything I could’ve imagined. I don’t wish to ever be back in that, and am glad I left every day

We went to high school together, the prom, etc. My first love. 9 years after HS graduation we reconnected at a wedding and were married less than a year later. I liked our childhood connection, and how he liked to fix things. Everyone said it was “meant to be.” But there were many red flags. He abused me in every way. Mentally, by undermining my dreams and hopes (telling me I would never finish my degree). Financially, by spending money we didn't have, hiding major purchases from me, quitting jobs impulsively if he was ever “disrespected.” Physically, by spitting on me, shaking me, throwing me down on the floor. He lied to me, called me names, called me fat, threw away my cherished items then mocked me for picking through the garbage to find them. He also cheated on me and gave me an std then denied it saying I must have cheated on him when I hadn’t. He undermined my sense of reality. The tipping point was finding my 13 year old daughter's diary and reading about what she had heard and witnessed when I thought she was asleep. I couldn't raise her or her brothers around this anymore. The hardest thing was navigating custody. He had never once cared for our 3 children by himself–not even for an afternoon. He had connections in both police and social service agencies and was a former CPS worker so accusations of abuse never stuck to him. He dated and briefly married a lawyer so he had free and unlimited legal representation. He neglected our children, drank heavily (he is an alcoholic) and scared them many times with his rage and outbursts. Not being able to shield them from him was and remains the hardest part. My family is Catholic and takes marriage very seriously as do I. Right before I filed for divorce my mom was telling me how things weren't that bad. I told her that she could 1) either ask me to stop talking about my reality with her or 2) accept my reality–but that I would no longer accept her denial of my reality. She heard me, apologized, and has been fully supportive ever since. Please do not assume because someone is a social worker, calls himself an advocate, or a feminist, or even works as an advocate that he lives out these values in private. My ex was given an award by the police department for his work with homeless people the same week that he locked me outside of our house during a tornado (I had to ride it out in my car in the driveway). Obviously knowing that I'm not alone, that even though more than a decade has passed and that I'm very happily married to a kind and loving man, that this pain stays with me. On my children's birthdays I always struggle remembering how he abused me while I was in labor and recovering from childbirth. That is something very hard to share. Speak Your Truth allowed me to not be alone with those memories for the first time.

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.

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.

I was in a five year relationship with my daughters father he would beat me senseless choke me leave me with black eyes I got pregnant he would still hurt me once I had my daughter in year I left him I never got help or support from anyone because I kept quiet all this time I was scared or I thought no one was gonna believe me but now I’m happy I remarried had three beautiful daughters with my husband and I opened up to him and he supports me in everything he’s my rock I thank God that gave me strength to leave him

Sexual Abuse in the Academe: Experiencing sexual abuse early in my life by teachers at school, one in primary school and the other in high school, made me think there would be no safe zone for sexual abuse. I became extremely vulnerable and imposed unbelievable restrictions on my relationships with others. Nevertheless, my most disgraceful institutional sexual abuse was on its way later in the academe. In my second year of the Ph.D. program in South Korea, Name Initials, a businessman and politician seeker, returned to college to pursue a master’s degree. He was in an intimate relationship with my adviser. Since my adviser and I were also close to each other, the three of us would go out for lunch or coffee together. Name Initials liked my intelligence and passion in my career and outspokenly pointed that out. Gradually, he brought his ambition and passion for life to my attention. About 20 years after graduation from college, he inevitably faced many challenges like a freshman-year student. Therefore, there were times when he asked me for academic assistance, particularly in writing an academic paper, collecting data in the library, and developing a theoretical framework for his study. One day, we were supposed to have dinner at a hotel restaurant a few days after my assistance in his writing assignment. On our way for dinner, however, he asked me if I wouldn’t mind going farther away to enjoy the quiet nature and good food. I accepted his offer, and he and I headed somewhere he only knew. It took us about an hour to get to the destination. It paid off, and we enjoyed the meal and conversation. On our way back to Seoul, he asked me if he could stop to smoke. He pulled over the car, rolled down the windows, and started smoking with my permission. He turned on the music without waiting for my reply, and we were quiet momentarily. Suddenly, I realized how much I had come along with so many ups and downs and how much I had longed to escape from the reality around me. He felt something was going on and touched my cheeks. He asked if I was crying. I did not reply. In just a few seconds, he put out the cigarette, rolled the windows, and turned off the light and music. That was the beginning of his sexual abuse of me. Since then, he has abused me for months on unavoidable occasions sexually. After Name Initials’s graduation, I received my doctoral degree in Date. My adviser asked me to visit Name Initials 2, a professor at a two-year college located on the outskirts of Seoul. Name Initials 2 welcomed me with warm greetings and a big smile and asked me to write the rest of his doctoral dissertation using the data and materials he would provide me. He promised to help me get a faculty position at his college in return for contributing to his dissertation. His first meeting ended in about thirty minutes, and he had me assigned to teach in his college. A few days later, Name Initials 2 corrected his previous words and convinced me he would finish his dissertation independently. He also promised to help me get a job at his college or from one of his close friends. He suggested shopping with me to buy a gift for me without any specific reason. I accepted his invitation, hoping to learn more about him and establish new academic contacts. During dinner, Name Initials 2 discussed position openings from his college and the detailed procedures from application to official employment. I applied for a position opening and became a promising candidate. One day, he suggested that I go out for dinner with him. After dinner, he offered me a ride home that evening when he forcefully attempted to kiss me, beginning Name Initials 2’s sexual abuse against me. Over the weekend, he would call me saying he wanted to discuss the follow-ups of the application. It was unclear that he would discuss what I needed to do in the hiring process. However, shortly after the frivolous gesture on my application status, he sexually abused me in any place. He also took me to a lodging area away from the big cities and took advantage of me sexually. My struggle to get my relationship with Name Initials 2 back on track was useless. At the end of that semester, it turned out that my application was unsuccessful. After a long struggle, I formed a non-profit, Non-Profit Name Link, in City, State, in 2014 to help other sexual abuse survivors with their journey to healing and empowerment.

The dark parts don’t trigger me anymore. I know I’m safe now—in myself, my mind, body, soul, home, relationships, and life. It wasn’t always that way. I can talk about it if I choose to. Not everyone gets to hear my sacred story, and that’s how it should be. I’m no less worthy, and neither are you. Naturally, it took time to recover. The past could be unsettling during the healing process, often in unexpected ways. One day, I opened a social media account, and an acquaintance from my soccer community posted a team picture of his latest league victory. There, kneeling in the front row, was the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I once lived through. Seeing him smiling while standing dangerously close to others I knew was unnerving and reminded me how effortless it was for Hyde to convince people he was something he wasn’t. I left that relationship. More accurately, I secured my safety and Hyde’s departure, changed the locks, and blocked any way of contacting me. I thought I had to do it that way, on my own, but that wasn’t true. I painted the walls, but it would always be a trauma environment. Despite my efforts to see past the wreckage, open up, and have conversations, I often felt criticized and painfully alone. If you are unaware of the long list of reasons why it’s difficult for women to speak up, inform yourself. It wasn’t until much later that I experienced solidarity's power in such matters. We scrutinize and scowl at these stories from afar, my former self included, with an air of separateness and superiority until we experience them ourselves. For, of course, this could never be our story. But then it is, and now it is. Other women sharing their sacred stories were the most significant to me in the healing years - confidants who embraced me with the most profound empathy and stood and breathed in front of me with their scars that were once wounds. And my mentor of many years who held hope when I couldn’t and taught me how to give that to myself. Over the years, I have often asked myself if I would ever be free - truly free - from the psychological, emotional, physical, and spiritual damage that had occurred. Would my wounds heal? Would I always have some adaptation in my body from holding my emotions in a protective posture? Or could I get it out and be released? Would my stress response and anxiety always be easily heightened? Would my PTSD symptoms ever go away? Would I ever trust myself again? Trust another again? Would I always be startled by loud noises and glass shattering? Would “normal” ever be normal again after being exposed to such severe abnormalities? Would I ever forgive myself for how small I became during that time? Would the anger, confusion, disorientation, sadness, and grief abate? Would the dark nights ever end? Would I ever be held again, be myself again, or was I changed forever? The thing about liberation is that it can seek justice that doesn’t arrive. I was in a relationship with Dr. Jekyll, who hid the evil Edward Hyde, his intimidation tactics, wildly premeditated orchestration of lies, manipulation, and gaslighting. A part of me wanted clarity until the truth was true, and my mind could unfuck the mindfuck and rest again. Don’t wait for clarity that is never coming. Some of us must live big lessons to break patterns and cycles of this magnitude, even to believe again that it’s possible. But let me be clear—no woman, no person, wants to live these types of lessons. If you understand nothing else from this essay, understand that. If you are one of the lucky, privileged ones to sit on your throne of judgment when hearing these stories, you don’t understand. You don’t understand that what you’re misunderstanding is not the woman or victim in the story, but it is yourself. That’s the harshest, blindest truth. Another truth about this all-too-common story is that the parts of the victim stuck in that situation do not belong to the public to dissect. That’s her burden to bear. And it will be. In actuality, each individual walking through abuse is trying to stand up and say, “This happened. It is real. I am alive. Please breathe with me. Please stand there near enough so I can see what it looks like to stand in a reality I am rebuilding, in a self I am reconstructing, in a world I am reimagining. Because if I hear you breathing, I might breathe too. And if I see you standing, I might pull myself up, too. And, eventually, I’ll be in my body again—I’ll be able to feel again. Not surviving, but piercing through my life again.” For the victims, I’m going to be honest with you: the meandering process of recovery is ultimately up to you. It’s your responsibility. Therapists, books, podcasts, and support groups can help but can’t heal you. You have to heal yourself. You have to accept the victim's role to let it go. You have to feel—to struggle through the feelings. It’s daunting and scary. You’ll want to give up. If you have people in your life who are stuck in their shallowness while you’re trying to go to your depths, let them go and let them be. Pivot and seek the sources and people to show you how to stand and breathe. You have to start thinking for yourself now, caring for yourself now, and loving yourself now. But trust me, you’ll need people, and you’ll need to find them. You don’t have to be strong; you can be gentle with yourself. Often, the intelligent, empathetic, and enlightened part of a person gives Henry Jekyll a second chance to work on himself and make things right. I must acknowledge a narrow and perilous line between the resolvable, troubled soul and the soul that spills over into malice, rigidity, maladaptiveness, and steadfast personality. Most people never encounter evil and retain their naivety, while victims lose this innocent vantage point of the world. It’s not the victim’s job to rehabilitate or reintegrate anyone but herself. Our stories are pervasive, and we come from all walks of life. On March 9th, 2021, The World Health Organization published data collected from 158 countries reporting almost one in three women globally have suffered intimate partner violence or sexual violence. That’s nearly 736 million women around the world. We need more voices of survivors—more voices of the human conditions we let hide in the shadows for fear of discovering it in ourselves. I lost parts of myself during that time with Hyde. The destructive consequences of this style of person are astounding, and the impact on my connection to myself and others was among the most challenging aspects to overcome. The rage that boiled in Hyde resulted in outrageous displays of public humiliation, screaming, and, on one drunken occasion, physical violence. If Hyde had called me a stupid bitch before grabbing my neck, throwing my head against a stone wall, and my body across a room to smash into a bedpost and break my ribs while we were in the United States, I would have been able to call the authorities. And I would have. But because we were in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country, vindication occurred through the fog of shocking circumstances I didn’t deserve. After years, Hyde popped up in a picture on social media. He plays soccer on the same fields I used to play on with joy in the absence of hypervigilance. It’s that disparity in fairness that can grip us in bewilderment. I’m on another path now—one where my trust and love are respected. I remain open and available for peaceful, constructive ways of being, relating, participating, and having a voice. I hope you’ll embrace my sacred story with sensitivity and compassion as I offer it to those in need so we may come together and let her stand up and live.

I married someone who was safer than my home life, but not safe overall. It wasn’t until some maturing kicked in until I realize I was with another abuser. I married a habitual boundary crosser, then I had a baby with my rapist, then I stayed after rape 2, then I stayed after bruise 1. These are all the same person. I wish I made myself safe before seeking safety in someone else. I wish I waited for my brain to set at 25-ish. I wish I didn’t let him convince me that rape 1 was a misunderstanding. I wish I wasn’t financially trapped. I wish the world payed woman to raise their own children versus paying women a different job to pay someone else to do so. I wish men would take the time to get to know and love women, the way we deserve to be loved, instead they trick, abuse, and mock us. I wish I could put in jail, but I cannot be responsible for putting my sons father in jail. He doesn’t deserve to be that kid because I was too ignorant. But most of all, I wish he was the person he convinced me he was, because I’d be happy, my cup would be filled, I wouldn’t be drained, I would be content, I wouldn’t be in survival mode, we’d get to stay a family. As for now, all I have is playing house until my exist plan is ready. Thank you for reading.

The day I ran from my abuser, I felt an intense urge to turn the car around. My sister’s voice kept replaying through my head. “Catherine, keep your eyes on the road. Don’t look at your phone. Don’t stop.” For five years, I had been raped, beaten, brainwashed, stripped of my identity and isolated from my family and friends. I knew if I turned that car around, I wouldn’t survive. At first, I couldn’t do anything for myself. My sister had to remind me to brush my teeth, bathe and eat. My abuser had controlled everything, and I mean everything. From what and how much I ate to what I wore, how I spoke, and who I spoke to. I didn’t know how to live outside of him and his needs. For years, I had been operating in survival mode. Everything had centered around him, what he expected from me and what would set him off. I was constantly walking on eggshells. The day I escaped, he told me I was pregnant. The only birth control allowed was the pull-out method. Rape is a hard word for me, because I think of it as being physically held down. But he had psychological control over me. I had no agency or choice. I was to abide by his rules or there would be repercussions. Although pregnancy may have been physically impossible because my weight was around 90 pounds, I was still terrified. I was in the South. If I were pregnant, there would be little to no abortion access. Luckily, I was able to get the Plan B pill within 72 hours. In my mid-20s, I was diagnosed with HPV. My abuser had prohibited me from getting health insurance and health care. The domestic violence hotline gave me resources for health care in my sister’s area, a small town in Georgia. None of these resources would take me because I didn’t have health insurance. The only one who agreed to see me was the health department; they only tested for certain STDs and did not perform gynecological exams. Like many women who have been in my situation, I felt lost. I knew I would be going back home to New Orleans for the holidays. Fortunately, I was able to schedule an exam with Planned Parenthood. They were sensitive to my situation and provided me with information and options. Most importantly, the staff treated me like a person. Since I left, my life has gotten much better, but I’m still on edge. Daily, I have traumatic flashbacks and second-guess and dissect most things.. With holistic therapeutic modalities, I’m healing. The only time the police were called was for me to escape. I had told my abuser I was leaving. He held me hostage in a hotel room for a couple of hours to keep me from leaving. I was able to get out once the police arrived. A year and half after my escape, I called to look into pressing charges. The police had never written a report. There was only documentation of the phone call and the time they arrived and left. They told me to file my own report, which at the time of the incident I didn't know about. So, I filed my report. When I spoke to an investigator, he questioned me on why I was looking at filing charges over a year later. I told him that I had dealt with intense trauma where I couldn't even eat and bathe without being told to do so. He said that it was too late, I. didn't have enough evidence, and it would go no where. And when I called back to at least get the report I filed, the woman was dismissive. And they had NO REPORT. Why would I go through a system that enables, ridicules, and disempowers victims? I am still healing and getting back on my feet, and because of this treatment from the very department that is suppose to have my back, I have decided to put it to bed. For now, my focus is on speaking up and helping other survivors.

YouTube Link YouTube Link

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

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

I was sexually assaulted at the very young age of 7 by my biological brother,I didn't really understand at the time what was happening to me and I was also being SA by my adopted dad from the ages of 7-15.i started using drugs at 16 to cope with my depression but I've been clean and sober now for 2yrs,I would love to speak out to others about this organization and hope that it helps others heal, there are other parts of my story that I had left out bc of too much detail