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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

There is something to be said about coercive convincing. Sometimes people can make an outwardly uncomfortable situation very appealing or just generally ok. It’s easier to fall trap to that when you know the person, think you know the person, have heard good things about the person from others you know, or you allow your curiosity to take over your instincts. You must learn to trust your gut. Don’t silence it. Be ok with their discomfort. You, your health, mentally and physically, are more important.

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

I grew up with an alcoholic, violent father and a mother who, to this day, can’t even remember most of the things he did. Eventually, my brother turned into an even worse version and was also abusive towards me, he even beat my ex boyfriend and was extremely jealous and overprotective of me when it came to guys who would try to approach me, I started feeling that having a boyfriend and falling in love was a “bad thing”. Eventually I started a relationship with a guy who lived in a different country, he seemed perfect but my mom was for some reason concerned. I ended up moving to his country and we got married, after we got married his behavior changed completely. I felt like I was basically living under his roof and like he was living like a single guy. He was doing drugs behind my back, he was cheating a verbally abusive. I would try to confront him about the things he was doing and he made me feel like I was the crazy person, he would also call my parents and sister to tell them I was very immature. He knew I would never tell them everything he was doing to me, and I felt like I didnt have anybody to talk to about what was really happening. One day he forced me on the floor, I can literally still fell the texture of the carpet against my chin. He would travel a lot, so one day I just packed my bags and left him. He eventually filed for divorce and I was served on valentine’s day at work in front of my team. It took me a week to read the papers, for some reason I just couldn’t. The papers stated I made him marry me because I wanted the residency and he was also trying to take my dog from me, my dog is my biggest support and he obviously knew that. It took years for the divorce to finalize. Everything started back in 2018, I still struggle. I haven’t been able to start a new relationship and I am sabotaging myself with everything, including my professional life and that was the one thing I was really great at. For the first time I realize that I need to find my support system, that there is hope. I don’t when I’m going to stop blaming myself and punishing myself for my decisions, but I am eager to do the work to get there. To start putting myself first. I have Justin Baldoni to thank for. Thank you for spreading awareness. Thank you for being brave enough to share your stories. We are all worthy of a healthy love.

I believe that my ex-boyfriend, Name — a bodybuilder currently living in State — has been engaging in serious digital harassment, including hacking my devices, spoofing text messages, and attempting to make it appear that I sent messages I did not. I have also noticed individuals around me—such as neighbors or coworkers—acting in ways that seem coordinated, including color-coding, winking, and using specific terms like “widgets” when referring to my family. I have reported this situation to the police, but so far there has been insufficient evidence to link these incidents directly to him. If anyone else has experienced similar behavior from this person, please come forward and share your experience.

As I was saying I am happy where I am now I don't know where my abuser is Initial as I called him The abuse was horrible I really didn't know where to turn who I could tell bc if I call the pd he threatened to hit himself to make it look like I was the abuser That meant if he went to jail so did I I was afraid of his friends especially the female friends they hated me I didn't drink or do drugs so I was boring I was even more afraid of his brothers they were more aggressive than Initial was ...my kids (not his ) hated him the feeling was mutual...I just hated his guts I was trapped in a relationship I didn't want to be in He stole from me and when I went on unemployment he took that too I was his slave at everything when I didn't want to be intimate he'd accuse me of cheating I went to women's shelter and he found me I was followed by the time I was ready to leave I found myself wanting him to just end my life he threatened to every day and I would challenge him but he didn't do it bc he was a pussy

If Only I knew… The most difficult trip I have ever made was traveling back from (Place to Place). It was in 2010, after spending a year in (place) where (Name) was on assignment, the children aged 12 and 4 and myself flew back to (place) because the father and husband we knew had a double life and abandoned us at the residence our oldest son would later call “a golden prison.” On the wee hours of our arrival in (place)in July 2009, (Name) dumped me in a separate room as a “slave.” The children and I found ourselves lost in the corridor when he locked himself in his room. Our entire world collapsed – I was shaking, it was impossible to take care of myself and the children- we spent the night together sobbing, without changing into our pajamas. We fell asleep mingling our tears. The next day, (Name) left for work before we woke up. I was ashamed to meet the house employees for the first time. Me, the wife of their “Boss,” I had no authority – It was the beginning of a year of hell! We were happy to go back, but I dreaded the questions of my neighbors, my colleagues, and friends who bid me goodbye thinking I would stay in (place) for the 3 years (Name) still had to spend there out of the 4 year- appointment to represent his organization. I did not want the plane to land. I felt safe up in the air because I did not know how I would be able to take care of the children’s needs without (Name). I did not know how we would survive without him because we were his dependents for visa, medical insurance, vacation, (Name) was the main provider. With a masters in Money and Finance, I had not yet found a decent job - my meager revenue as a temporary employee would not sustain us. I had no choice but to file for divorce when (Name) sent me a letter stating that our marriage was over and that I would be informed in due course. I struggled financially to pay for my legal fees and other various expenses for the children. I was drained emotionally to keep the children safe all while going to court and trying to look sane at work. I fought to stay afloat with the help of the Domestic Abuse office of my organization, my family, and a few resolute friends. The children and I are doing better today but it was a long road. If you can, please read the whole story in my first book, If Only I Knew, that came out on November 14, 2023. The link is below. https://www.amazon.com/If-Only-Knew-Elise-Priso/dp/B0CNKTN924?source=ps-sl-shoppingads-lpcontext&ref_=fplfs&psc=1&smid=ATVPDKIKX0DER

I will not longer live in fear for my self and my sons life. I will no longer be told how ugly and fat I am. I will no longer have him put his hands on me. I will no longer allow bruises on my face. I will no longer let this happen to someone else. I was in a situation where I couldn't leave for a long time and couldn't ask for help. The most fear I have ever been in in my life. But I have a 3-year-old son and NO ONE will ever hurt him the way they hurt me. I am putting a stop to being the victim and taking back control in my own life. One thing that I learned that is the most important to me... Is that you're never alone, and you are beautiful!

I went through this kind of thing twice in my lifetime. Once as a child and once as an adult too. I know I'm not alone. There are many who have had this twice sometimes more in a lifetime mine the first one happened when I was 6 to 8 years old. The second one I was much older in my late thirties. Having been through it twice in a lifetime takes allot out of you but somehow you persevere even if you don't think you can. My adult one happened in my last foster home.Tt happened over 4 years I was trying to keep the peace in my home. And he took advantage. I want everyone to know I'm ok now I live in a better place now. Just sometimes it overshadows me. And I know it's not my fault. Thanks for listening.

i moved to wheeling this blonde haired handsome cop took an interest in me he was going to leave his girlfriend for me last year. His girlfriend stalked me when he came to see me she was not far behind he went back and forth between me and her. He chose her over me after telling her he loved me he was hardly ever around he would spy on me i left then he blamed me he would throw parties celebratating our engagement i asked him if was going to see someone else please do not rub it in but that is exactly what he did not to mention all the insults i got he never defended me. He then accuses me of cheating saying I hurt a good guy he sent a third party to tell me he was married to someone else then told me he was not married he was supposed to have been engaged but shes now single there was this woman who went on facebook saying he was a bad boy.

I Say No More because there are too many of us living and struggle with our everyday lives because we are ashamed about what another person has done to us. Me for an example; my abuse was on and off throughout my childhood. The longest lasted 4 years. By me staying silent for so long, to I have PTSD, Emotional Disorder and Depression. I had to learn how to gain control of my life that I didn't know for the longest that I could. I'm taking it one step at a time. See those people may have took away my childhood but they couldn't take away my LOVE, JOY and now my PEACE away.

I had just turned 15 years old. I was dating a guy that I felt very safe with. We had been dating for 3 months at that point and we moved pretty fast. It was his birthday in October and my parents were gone for a few days. I invited him over. He stayed 2 nights at my place. The first 2 days all we did was eat and lay in bed together. The first night was a lot of fun. On the second night though, we had just had sex (consensually) and we were going to go to sleep. We were both naked, and I woke up to him inside me. I told him to stop and pushed myself away. I fell asleep again, not really thinking about it, and when I woke up the next morning I had blood and semen on my inner thighs. I had realized, after looking back at our time, he had been raping me in my sleep for our whole relationship.

I am a cis-gender, woman. For as long as I can remember, I have identified as bisexual. I was never "closeted", but I did grow up in the mid-Atlantic suburbs in the '70s, so having a girlfriend who was anything more than a "buddy" wasn't even available to me. In fact, it wasn't until 1973 that homosexuality was removed from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). So I didn't grow up thinking that I could ever act on my feelings for women. As I matured, I dabbled a little bit, but not anything fulfilling. My longing for sexual intimacy with a woman increased in intensity once I hit peri-menopause. At a certain stage in my adult life, I found myself obsessing 24/7 about having a sexual relationship with a woman. That day came when I ran into someone from my past - someone whom I knew was gay - someone to whom I had a strong, physical attraction that was so unbearable, it nearly drove me mad. Seriously. I still question whether I was in my right mind when we were together because in hindsight, I tolerated behavior from her that was incredibly abusive and abnormal, just so I could get laid. Because in the beginning, the sex was great. The first time we kissed, my head almost exploded. And when we finally had sex, I felt as if the whole world came to a stop, and I realized that THIS IS WHAT HAD BEEN MISSING FROM MY LIFE! But, just as adolescents confuse chemical changes associated with sex with love, so did I. When she gazed into my eyes and told me that she had always loved me, I believed her. It felt magical. I was enchanted. And, I thought that I was in love with her too. The abuse started a few months after we began "dating". I put that word in quotes, because she was so closeted that we didn't dare hold hands in public or get caught kissing. (By the way, her reaction to getting "caught" was SO extreme, that she violently pushed me away with both hands, the day her landlord caught me hugging her goodbye, as he took out the garbage.) We were in the car, driving home from a day of hanging out in the city. Much of her abuse happened in the car because there, I was a captive audience who couldn't escape her ranting, raving, screaming, punching the door, the windshield, throwing things … We'd both had too much to drink that day, she had flirted with someone else (as she always did, I realize now in hindsight), words were exchanged between us about the incident, and she flew into a rage. She punched the car's rearview mirror so hard that it snapped off and flew across the car, missing my face by inches. I sat mutely in shock, frightened because we were in a moving vehicle on a major highway. It was then that I should have ended it. It was then that I should have seen her for who she really was, rather than who I was dreaming she could be. It was then that I realized that something didn't feel good about 'this" anymore. I stayed with her for 5 more years, during which time she trapped me in the car with abusive tantrums regularly. That night was just a preview! During the on again / off again time that we were together, she made grand, romantic promises to me about a life together; living in a nice house, all the money she was going to make, blah, blah, blah. In her next breath, she would berate ME for not making enough money, for not having more important or more interesting friends. She taunted me for not being - as she put it - "a spectacular fuck". And - more than once - she put me down for having had sex with men before we met. Or as she put it, "All the dick you sucked before we met". This, despite the fact that she had undergone two abortions (after having unprotected, reckless sex with men of course) and that she constantly flirted with them when we were out. She also bragged to me about her former lovers (all of whom had either died or cut her out their lives completely). She was homophobic. She said that she hated being gay, and that she hated me for being gay. She would insist that I wasn't gay at all. "You're just a straight chick who gets off on fucking women", she said to me. A laughable statement, because THIS is what turned HER on! I was not the first woman that she believed she had "turned", despite my protests that I am and always have been, bisexual. She delusionally thought that she had some kind of special power to turn straight women gay. She would have melt-downs any time that I wanted us to be a visible couple, insisted that I could not "come out" - even though we traveled to places that were gay friendly, had gay friends and that we WERE gay. The emotional abuse increased in frequency, but took place in secrecy, so I had nowhere to turn. I began to live with a knot in my stomach and depression started to take over my life to the point where I not only lost my identity, but I lost my desire to live. The secrecy that she forced me into kept her abuse of me a secret too, even from our mutual friends. Each time that I tried to break up with her, those big, fat, alligator tears would start. For me, that's really hard to take from a woman. I've seen men cry, but HER tears sucked me back in every time. Sucked. That's a good word for it, on many levels. She was sucking the life out of me and I was the sucker who fell for her lies, every time I tried to break it off. She reeled me back in each time, like a fish on a hook. One day, as she stood in my kitchen berating me once again, immediately after I had taken her on another miserable vacation where all she did was put me down, I finally snapped. "Get the fuck out" I said. My calm tone must have really frightened her, because she left. Finally. I'd had enough mental and emotional abuse. There was nothing wrong with me and yet, she berated me and criticized me constantly. I had gained weight, I had lost friends, my own family didn't recognize me anymore. "Your attention span is so short, maybe fingerpaints would be good for you!" She actually SAID this to me! This is how she treated me. Constantly. But I stayed with her, for the promise of what I thought we might have. Promises that she filled my head with, in bed when we had sex. Sex, that she slowly began to use as a weapon of control and manipulation over me. She withheld physical affection, flirted with other women, and treated me like shit. Then, in the very next breath, she would suggest that we open a joint bank account, "For our future", she said with a warm smile and a sparkle in her eye. Thankfully, I never fell for that lie. I've always worked hard for my money, and I wasn't going to share it with someone who turned out to be a fucking monster, a liar, and an imposter. I already suffered from PTSD, and she preyed upon it. It increased in intensity while we were together. When I met her, I was a very pretty, self-confident woman in great physical shape. My years with my abuser turned me into an overweight, anxious, angry, depressed person who trusts no one, and drinks too much alcohol. Therapy and breathing techniques help, along with a prescription for Xanax that I take occasionally, but I still feel shame over having stayed in an abusive relationship for so long. I'm not a mental health professional, nor do I think it's appropriate for any layperson to "diagnose" someone (some of those "professionals" shouldn't either, by the way), but several personality disorders come to mind when I think of her such as ... Narcissistic … Histrionic … Borderline … even bipolar. In closing, I despise her and what she did to me. I'm glad that I finally rid my life of her, even though she tried several more times to weasle her way back in. I will always HATE her … but I'm beginning to love myself again.

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

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

Many times I've wondered how to begin narrating my story, whether I should start from the beginning or when "love had arrived." I could start by saying that I fell in love with the person I thought was my best friend. Wow, it’s supposed that when there’s a friendship of that magnitude, love should be great. Time passed, and years later, that friendship turned into a relationship, which, for my heart, was one of the most beautiful things that had ever happened to me. I flew 1,295 miles from my country to the United States for him, believing that finally, my true love story would become a reality. I knew he had a strong character and was a bit egocentric, something that bothered me, but I always tried to ignore those thoughts with the "sweet gestures" he could have with me. In the third year of our relationship, after discovering an online affair (they were only chatting because they were in different countries), he proposed to me. Shortly after we got married, we bought our first house together. Wow, if we weighed it all out, there were many wonderful moments that turned into sad endings because, according to him, I didn’t do something right, and many times I would repeat to myself, “I need to be better for myself and for him,” but for him, I was never good enough. Little by little, I started to fade. His words and actions took me to the darkest places—depression and anxiety. From there, it got even darker: a fight in the bathroom where he was the only one talking, and I had long ago decided to remain silent to avoid making the problem worse. I remember that night we were sitting on the bathroom floor arguing, and when it ended, we decided to leave the bathroom. I was walking behind him, continuing the argument, and that’s when he decided to push me, making me fall back several feet. I had never felt so vulnerable in my life. Among the physical pain I felt in my body, the pain in my soul was even stronger. He apologized and insisted that he thought I was coming after him to hit him. I insisted that I would be incapable of doing something like that, but once again, I was blamed. Shortly after, the problems in the relationship intensified, and there was more crying than laughing. I blamed the depression, but deep down, I knew it was everything that was happening there. I decided to seek professional help and started working with a psychiatrist. For more than a year, I was in therapy and on medication, and that’s when my awakening began. I’ll never forget the day my therapist said to me, "I want you to do an exercise that I know I shouldn’t ask of you." I forgot to mention that I earned my psychology degree in my home country. She continued, “We’re going to make a diagnosis, but it’s not for you. If I’m right, our therapy is going to change drastically because you’ll have only two options: divorce or couples therapy.” Although she didn’t say it, she was leaning more towards divorce. Her request was, "Let’s diagnose, based on observation, whether your husband is a narcissist. You’ve given me many examples that are raising red flags for me." She managed to get an interview with him, and in the end, we reached the diagnosis: I was married to a narcissist. I had been too ashamed to tell her that a week earlier, I was not only a victim of his physical aggression when he pushed me, but he had also pulled my hair. I had never felt so ashamed of myself until I had to talk about it with my therapist. Her only words were, “Run from there; there’s no turning back.” How grateful I am to her for those words. Today, almost a year after our legal divorce, although this path hasn’t been easy, I feel that I’ve become a much more resilient woman. No matter how difficult the situation is, no matter how much pain you may feel, love doesn’t have to be the excuse to push your limits. I knew for a long time that I needed to leave, and it’s not easy. Finding that strength is not easy, but today I can say that when your love for yourself grows every day, it’s that love that helps you move forward. Losing everything and losing myself to find myself has been the most beautiful experience life has given me. NO MORE. Only you have the power to break the cycle.

I am trying to leave this DV relationship, but it's complicated. He lives with me; he uses my phone and car because he doesn't have neither. I don't want to get the police involved nor do I want to kick him out, 1. he will just be outside my apartment unit and 2. defamation of my character - for some reason everyone believes him and don't see any wrong by him but he sure can make someone look terrible. He is leeching on me. I feel like I'm being suffocated by a hurt boy who have been wounded and traumatized all his life and he is using me as an energy bank to cure his wounds and to cater to his needs. I currently have a cold and he hasn't taken care of me or even asked how I am doing. From the many times I haven't felt well, he would argue with me. I feel so alone and feel like I can't make any plans until he can get a phone and car. Friends say call the police, but I really don't want to, I don't want him to destroy my reputation. My therapist said that if my reputation is the only reason I am putting up with him then I shouldn't worry about my reputation. I understand where my friends and therapist are coming from, but I really don't want that to happen to me, I have seen what he did to his baby mother and it just been a shit show. Am I wrong to want a calm and safest way out?

Last year, I was Lilly. The first time he shoved me down on the couch, the second time he threw me across the room into our daughters bouncer, the third time he broke his entire knuckle on my face causing two black eyes and my forehead to be three times its size. It only continued from there. I spent so many nights begging him to not kill me, he would me hold on the bed and try to suffocate me. He dragged me into the woods once, and grabbed me by my throat and threw me. After he broke his knuckle on my face, he took me to the store to get the make up to cover up my black eyes and we laughed about it. After every incident he would cry to me and tell me he didn’t want to be like this. I finally got out, you can too❤️

I grew up in an abusive household where we constantly moved and lived with my mom’s boyfriends. I watched my mom from my earliest memory until she took her last breathe fall into the pattern of abuse. When I was 8 years old my mom chose to leave her abuser for the sake of me and my brother. But that didn’t stop him from coming back and making threats and eventually coming into our new home and killing her with my brother and I there. Watching it ends with us showed me a different perspective. It showed me that my mom tried to leave her Ryle for the sake of us, to try to end the pattern. Unfortunately she was unable to and we lost her. As a young adult now I’ve been in 2 relationships where there was violence and abuse and despite my fears I’ve been able to leave for my sake and the sake of my future kids. I know I deserve better, every women and man deserves better. Please don’t settle for a significant other that is abusive verbally or physically. You are worth so much more.

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