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The scariest moment of my relationship of 18 years was the moment that I no longer felt afraid to die, I was begging for it to happen. I had been with my husband for 18 years and experienced physical, emotional, verbal, and financial abuse and had been brought to the brink of death on more than one occasion. My head had been cracked open, experienced strangulation on a daily basis and had lost consciousness at his hands. I was beyond damaged emotionally and physically and my ability to take much more was completely gone. I wanted him to finally succeed. I didn't want to live this life anymore. And then it dawned on me. I have three children with this man and if he were to kill me, what would become of my girls? I knew then that my girls would face a rough life if I were gone. I brought them into this world and they needed me to fight back for them. That was the realization that I needed to get out of there so I packed a single bag for the four of us and I fled. What I want others to realize is that the aftermath can be just as difficult as the relationship. It is true what people say. You do realize who you can REALLY count on when you are in crisis. I mistakenly believed that I had more than enough support in my friends and family. I was wrong. My network evaporated as soon as I needed them. It has been a tough road for my girls and I, but I am grateful everyday that I am here with them. I was, and still am, absolutely determined to, not only live, but thrive. For myself and for my girls. It is a scary path to be on but please recognize that you are not alone. There is always someone that cares and can begin to understand. You've made it this far. How far can you take yourself in this life? Live the life that you were meant to and don't let anybody else take away your sparkle.

The first time someone raped me, I was fourteen. Summer before high school. I didn’t know what rape was. I didn’t have a word for what happened. I didn’t know it was wrong, even though it felt terrifying and ugly and dirty. I figured it was just me. Turns out when things like this go unaddressed, we’re at higher risks of repeating the trauma. That’s what ended up happening to me in different ways. I hated myself. I struggled with eating disorders. I felt inherently poison. I don’t remember a lot because the majority of my thoughts were consumed by pain, and wondering if anyone cared. It didn’t feel like anyone did; in fact, all my trauma responses (before I knew them as such) were blamed on me being difficult. Ten years later, I realized and disclosed the impact rape had on my entire understanding of myself and the difficult roads I had traveled. And so I began a long healing journey. A few years after that, it happened again. Turns out old trauma responses die hard. The difference was that this time, I knew what happened. I had words for it. It was brutal, but I fought for myself and became the advocate I needed as a kid. I didn’t abandon her, the terrified girl battered in a dark room. I stayed. I was exhausted, I grieved, I did it all. But I stayed. Three years have passed. While the DA couldn’t prosecute, I found a lawyer willing to take my case as a civil case on contingency. I can’t say that was easy, or that any part of the process felt fair. But again—I stayed. What I think most about in my healing is that living freely is a luxury even though it shouldn’t be. I think about the chains that tie us up over time, the intersections of violence and our identities, of feeling in my body or out of it, what feels safe for my presence, how I can grow into that so I can enjoy pieces of life I’ve cut off out of fear for their being an opening for more harm. I’m still healing. Aren’t we all? And what I’ve decided is that healing lives not only in what you reclaim but how you reclaim it. Wholeness is what we deserve. Every one of us. Including me. Including you.

back in the summer of date i was 12 years old mom, dad, and myself went to city for a week o see my grandparents because i was summer break from school and we were having a cookout when relavives from my grandmothers side of the family came down to see her, they stayed at the ramada inn down the the road from my grandparents house, when it happened, after dinner i excused myself from the table so i could stretch my legs and i started going into the woods to go see the deer that were not far from my grandparents house, when lee came following behind me and took me by the arm further into the woods so nobody would be able to see what was about to happen, he made me strip naked and touched my naked body including my penis and my genitals and said to me this is how people have sex then he pulled his pants and boxers down and made me feel his penis and made me try to swollow it and threatened me by say dont you tell your parents or grandparents about this or i will say that you are lying about it so i never say a thing about it, then the next day he found me behind the house looking down the hill at the 18 wheelers going by on the interstate and took me into the basement forced me to take off my clothes and then forced me to masturbate well its a was good thing that i kept myself from ejaculating sperm because the basement floor was dirt and had my grandmother asked me about why the floor was wet i would have had to tell her because i could never lie to my grandmother because of our special bond between grandma and grandson, so once i got dressed again i walked around spread dirt all over where my bare feet were this way she had no idea about what had happened, to this day i wish i had told them because then that bastard would have died in prison but he has since passed away a very painful death so i dont ever have to worry about him ever again.

My ex was a mechanic. I was having car trouble and he fixed my car. What initially attracted me to him was that he was hard working and he was very bold. The abuse began when I was about 5 or 6 months pregnant with our first child together. Initially it was only physical abuse, it later turned into verbal, emotional, and sexual abuse. When one of my children came to me and disclosed that he had been molesting them. I didn't love myself enough but my children mean the world to me. Leaving for my children was easy as I could not allow them to be hurt. I called law enforcement and he was arrested. This is what gave me the courage to speak up about the things that I had endured. I was abandoned by all of my friends and family after they expressed to me how they felt I was to blame and didn't feel sorry for me at all. I also blamed myself for not loving myself enough to leave. I was treated horribly and not viewed as a victim at all. It was very hard to navigate this trauma on my own. But I am still here by the grace of God.

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