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Hi there, To anyone still in an abusive or toxic relationship, or healing from one like I am — I want you to know that you are strong enough to break free and to heal. It’s important to remember that none of this is your fault. You don’t have to go through this alone. Speak up, ask for help, and believe in yourself again. I was in an abusive relationship for 8.5 years, and it’s been 9 years since, the time it took me to realize that this isn’t something you have to face by yourself. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self this! Please don’t keep it a secret. People will listen, and you will find your way out and begin to heal. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise. You deserve to be safe, happy, and free. ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

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.

As man who suffered abuse and watched as my mother and sister suffered it with me, here's my story. I have turned it into a book called Book Name that will be published in 2025, in the hopes my story will help others who have been silent to speak up and speak out. Growing up in 1960s City, my father’s explosive temper ruled our house like a storm that never stopped raging. His beatings were a ritual—unpredictable but inevitable. His belt was his weapon of choice, and I was the target. First came the verbal assault. “You’re worthless!” he’d scream, spitting his venomous words before unleashing the belt on me. The crack of leather against my skin was sharp, but what cut deeper was the fear that filled my every moment. His attacks were brutal and relentless, and I learned quickly that crying only made it worse. I developed a mantra to survive: “I’m not crazy; he is.” I scratched those words into the wall beneath my bed and held onto them like a lifeline, clinging to the idea that this madness wasn’t my fault. But no mantra could protect me from the pain or the scars that came with each beating. My body bruised and welted, and I carried those marks into adulthood, hidden beneath layers of clothing and false smiles. When I was six, a moment of curiosity nearly killed me. I had been playing outside, tossing sticks into a neighbor’s burning barrel, when a spark landed on my nylon jacket. Within seconds, I was engulfed in flames. As I screamed and ran, my back burning, a neighbor tackled me into the snow, saving my life. In the hospital, as doctors worked to heal my third-degree burns, my fear of my father overshadowed the pain. When I came home, still covered in bandages, my father’s violence continued. He slapped me across the face for not attending the party he had arranged for my homecoming. The message was clear: no amount of suffering would earn me compassion from him. His cruelty was unyielding, and I realized that nearly dying had changed nothing. As the physical scars from the fire healed, the emotional scars festered. I lived in constant fear, not knowing when the next beating would come. His footsteps sent shivers through me, each step a reminder that I was never safe. Even after his death in year his influence loomed over me. I was relieved he was gone, but unresolved grief and anger remained. I sought to reinvent myself in university, throwing myself into academics and work. I was determined to escape the trauma, but no matter how hard I ran, it followed me. The violence I experienced as a child soon became violence I inflicted on myself. In my twenties, bulimia became my way of coping. I would binge on food and purge, as if vomiting could expel the pain I had carried for so long. It was a twisted ritual of control, and yet I had no control at all. Afterward, I would collapse in a heap, my body drained but my mind still haunted by memories I couldn’t outrun. Each cycle promised relief, but it never lasted. Obsessive exercise became another outlet. I spent hours in the gym, pushing my body to its limits, believing that if I could perfect my exterior, I could somehow fix the brokenness inside. I built muscles to protect myself, but the mirror always reflected the truth—hollow eyes staring back at me, the emptiness never far behind. Even as I climbed the ranks in my career, becoming a corporate executive, the gnawing self-doubt persisted. I was successful, but success didn’t heal the wounds my father left. I also sought comfort in strangers. Fleeting encounters became a way to fill the void inside, offering temporary escape from the relentless pain. But after every encounter, the emptiness returned, more consuming than before. No amount of running, lifting, or sex could fill the gaping hole in my heart. I was numbing myself, not living. It wasn’t until I sought therapy that I began to confront the traumas I had buried so deeply. My first therapist suggested writing letters to my parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It took finding the right therapist—someone who pushed me to go beyond the surface—to finally begin the healing process. Slowly, I unraveled the layers of pain, facing not only the abuse from my father but also the self-inflicted harm I had continued to impose upon myself for years. My wife, name became my greatest support, helping me peel back the layers and confront the darkness I had hidden for so long. Together, we built a life of love and connection, but even in those happiest moments, the shadows of my past never left me. When my mother passed away indate, I found closure in our complicated relationship. Forgiveness—both for her and for myself—became an essential part of my healing. Today, I use my story to encourage others to speak up and break the silence around abuse. The pain I endured was not in vain. I believe that our past can fuel our purpose and that, ultimately, our pain can become our power.

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

We were friends for a year before we dated. Our friend group knew he had substance abuse issues and some decided to cut him out of their lives until he seeked therapy/medication. I felt angry for him. Why didn’t they believe in him? Why couldn’t they stand by him? If friends are meant to be our biggest supporters, I felt they left him in his lowest time. He called me one night about to commit suicide. I called an ambulance. He had to get his stomach pumped in the hospital. After that, he told us that he was going to a therapist and was getting better. Time went by. I went through a breakup and he supported me through it. He ended up falling for me. It took me a while to fall for him as at the time I saw him as a friend. But eventually through his elaborate romantic gestures and our time together, I fell for him too. We dated for 2.5 years. The first time he hit me was a nonconsensual slap across the face during oral sex. It had been a magical night before that at his fraternity’s semi formal. He apologized, got me flowers, and claimed he’d never do it again. The second time he got blackout drunk, was on opioids for his “chronic migraine” (which we believe was actually from the drugs… he would mysteriously get tons of opioids on unmarked bottles that none of us knew where they came from and use them to get high), and he had been smoking marijuana. He shoved me outside of a bar after causing a scene at his fraternity formal. I had been late because I got locked out of a hotel room. He blamed me for it even though our friends were drunkenly inside having sex. He unnecessarily tried to cause drama between us. That same night he punched one of his best friends in the face (giving him a black eye) and hit a pledge. When we got back to our college town after the formal, I asked him if he remembered doing that to me. He left without even caring to address it. I took a pregnancy test a few days later and found out I was pregnant. We had a condom break. I hoped it wouldn’t have resulted in anything but it did. I knew that this baby would mean everything to me even despite the difficulties. I told him I was pregnant. He gave me a sweet tea and I ended up miscarrying a few hours later. I’ve always wondered if he put something in that sweet tea as the timing was too strange and it didn’t taste right. Throughout the relationship, he promised he would do right by me. He promised he’d quit substances. He even promised my parents at one point to win me back. He made a million promises. By the end of it, I found out he slept with my best friend, tried to sleep with numerous other women, got me pregnant again and left for several months which left me in complete agony, he threw things at walls, he hit me, he shoved me, he mocked me for the state of my mental health after all of his abuse, he dumped me on the day my dad got cancer, he begged to get back together only to get me pregnant again after finishing in me nonconsensually, cheated on me even more, and hit me across the face after I found out. All of those years came crashing down around me as I realized I spent the best years of my life in college (3 out of 4 years) trying to protect someone who only hurt me. I found out he raped a girl, sexually assaulted other girls, and was dealing drugs. The relationship wasn’t all bad otherwise I never would’ve stayed, but I spent the most formative years of my early adulthood believing in a man who was immensely harmful. I relate to Lily’s story. My dad was abusive my whole life. I grew up with an abusive father figure and I learned to tolerate abusive red flags. I couldn’t discern them. It wasn’t until it was too late and I was in too deep that I realized what it was. I have PTSD now. I will be forever changed from the abuse that man gave me. Before he left, he told me that I had to lie to his mom. I found out that he had told her we were in an on/off relationship so that every time he cheated she would think we were just broken up. I told her we hadn’t been. He said that I had to tell her that he never cheated on me or else he’d leave. I told him that I didn’t care to live a lie anymore. I wasn’t going to be gaslit anymore. I stood up for myself and he left. After that, he threatened to leak nude photos of me (as if everything else he did wasn’t enough). His entire family was crazy. I spent years trying to be friendly with them only to realize at the end that the Apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He claimed his mom was abusive and his dad used to be in a gang. They seemed normal in the beginning. Happy to see me. Thrilled to have me around. She’d get me little gift baskets and we’d go to art classes to bond. When I got pregnant and found out about his cheating, him and his family did a 180. It was the worst experience of my life. I have PTSD triggers about the idea of being pregnant again. It’s hard to imagine having a family one day again after everything he did to me. I broke the cycle by leaving but I will be left with scars for the rest of my life.

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.

Hi whoever reading this, I’m a victim of online harassment when I was 19 the incident goes like that I was one day scrolling through my Instagram and one day I get a request from this guy and I accepted it since we had a mutual didn’t think much of it even if I replied one minute late he would spam me that same night we video called he made me do stuff I was totally uncomfy with made me bend over or get undressed on that call I didn’t want to do it at the same time I was like nothing could go wrong he kept asking for my Snapchat password since we were sharing pictures and I told him I was tired and wanted to go to bed he said oh just send the password I promise I won’t save anything or any picture and I thought doing this will make him leave me alone and so i did I think I blocked him on WhatsApp but not on Instagram or Snapchat coz I forgot to do that I think one day I was on a family trip and I fell sick he texted me but I didn’t repspond coz I was sick and then came the message “I’ll have your nudes I’ll share them okay?” And with that message came an attached pictures that he saved on his phone of my nudes the thing is I wouldn’t take pictures of my face when I sent stuff like that but he saved pictures normal mirror selfies I took that showed my face I texted him coz I was sooo scared I took my phone to the bathroom my mom thought I was puking and what not he told me if I didn’t do what he said he would leak those pictures so I did what he made me unblock him on WhatsApp (I said something like oh u weren’t talking to me that’s y I blocked u for some sympathy) he made me gave him my passwords for all my social media accounts he made me get nude on a video call and insert a toothbrush in me I didn’t want to but he was blackmailing me so I did it after that when I told a friend of mine I was advised to block him which i did I came back home from the trip I redownloaded my telegram app same text “Y did u block me do what I say” “I’ll share those pictures on the internet okay?” I blocked him again and then a few months later I get a text from the same country code and the same emoji “🩺 “ in the bio I blocked that number too he’s studying medicine and I know his Uni name since he has it on his Instagram bio. I’m still healing from it I have so much anxiety whenever I think about it I live in this constant fear that he might leak them or already leaked them I wish I could go back in time and just stopped myself from giving that password I wouldn’t be dealing with it maybe if I thought enough I wouldn’t be in this situation but I took steps which were: blocking him everywhere Deleted my snap chat and telegram And also deleted my Instagram account I told my friends to not question the block this guy and they did and after I deleted my account I made an new one first thing I did we blocked him

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

I thought he was the most perfect guy in the world. He was romantic, smart, funny, loving, kind, everything I had ever wanted in a guy. When things started to shift, I deeply believed it was my responsibility as his girlfriend to comfort him, take care of him, fix him. But as the breakdowns became more consistent, as he became more violent, as the words grew heavier and more hurtful, I was left feeling drained. My belief that I was supposed to stick by his side no matter what, that love was forgiving and forgetting, destroyed me. He was broken, and it was selfish to leave him. He didn’t mean it, he apologized eventually, he comforted me when he hurt me, so it was okay. But if I could go back in time, I’d scream “leave now, save yourself.” Because these excuses I was making were just that. Excuses. It was not normal. It was not okay. No excuses could be made to make his behavior normal. I just want everyone out there to know that it is not your fault. You are not weak. You are not stupid for not seeing it sooner. You were in love with someone who only showed you a small aspect of themselves, and then revealed the rest when you were already in too deep. One time is enough. It wasn’t an accident the first time, and it won’t be an accident the next. The recovery process is hard. But it’s so worth it. And you are worth so much more than what he declares over you. Please know that you are not alone. I’m rooting for you and I know others are too.

My name is (Name) and this is my story. I have been abused for most of my life from childhood, well into my adult years. I never knew what gaslighting was or love bombing and other terms until I got older and realized what was happening. My mother did that for soo long it was all I knew and I thought it was “normal.” When I was 18 I started a relationship with someone and it was off and on and then we lost contact and then when I was 21 we came back into contact. He won me in the beginning with his charm and sense of humor. Little did I know I was slowly being manipulated, love bombed, controlled and lots of gaslighting. I made a trip to go visit him and I was only supposed to be there a week and I ended up staying. In the beginning everything seemed fine even though he had already cheated on me (red flag) but for some reason I overlooked it and continued the relationship. Over time he became more and more controlling. Starting off with what I could or couldn’t wear, how my hair and makeup were supposed to be done. Then it turned into I couldn’t go anywhere unless I was with him. I wasn’t allowed to have friends, money of my own, and basically I couldn’t do anything without his permission. Meanwhile he could come and go as he pleased, talk to anyone, have friends, and do whatever he wanted with my money. My bank account eventually got closed because he overdrew it soo many times and got so deep in the hole, I couldn’t get it out. He then made me get an account where he banked and he knew I wouldn’t be able to get a debit card there. All my checks I had to go in and get them cashed, and then hand over all my money to him. If I didn’t he would just get it out of my purse later anyway. I slowly started to gain weight because I was miserable, even though I convinced myself I wasn’t. He constantly made remarks about my body and compared me to women in public, movies, and porn. Asking me why I don’t look like that or he’d make a comment in front of me about another girl saying, “I’d bang the shit out of her.” Never, not once did I ever do that to him but he felt entitled to do it to me. I remember the first time he hit me, he didn’t even apologize after doing it. He told me he’d have no issue doing it again. I walked on eggshells everyday because I never knew what would set him off. I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone about it and if I tried he would somehow know or catch me. I couldn’t even call anyone back home. He alienated me from everyone and kept me under his constant control. He complained if I needed basic necessities, but it was nothing for him to spend over $100 on video games. He made me work two jobs while he worked one. His family knew I was being abused and did nothing. No one helped me, I was absolutely stuck. There were at least 4-5 different times I packed my things wanting to leave but I couldn’t do it. He even told me to one time and when he got home I said I’m packed and he started laughing. He said, “I only said that to see if you would actually pack your things.” He knew I truly couldn’t go anywhere because I didn’t have a car, money or anywhere to go. I caught him several times talking to other girls, and he treated it like no big deal. One time a guy flirted with me and all hell broke loose. He hated the fact someone else thought I was attractive. Even though he truly didn’t want me, he didn’t want anyone else to have me either. He would wait outside my work (without me knowing) and would watch me and watch others that would come in to see if I flirted with them or if they flirted with me. Yet he could flirt and talk to whoever he wanted. He would always tell me no one else would want me. He ripped away any confidence that ever had and truly made me feel the lowest I’ve ever felt and absolutely worthless. I remember having to hide bruises because he would hit me and then he would hit me in places he knew no one could see. There were times I was slammed against the wall by my throat, thrown onto the bed and held down. He told me if I ever got pregnant he’d kick me in the stomach. Yet he forced me to have sex 3-4 times a day with no protection. For almost a year I thought I couldn’t get pregnant, until I did. The day I found out I was pregnant, you would have thought someone died. I cried soo hard and I was afraid to tell him. I had to wait what seemed like an eternity for him to come home so I could tell him. When I told him, he laughed and said “shit happens.” Not the reaction I was hoping for but I guess it was better than him being mad. He drank himself into a stupid mess that night. During that first 6-7 weeks I dropped 40lbs because I couldn’t hold anything down, not even water. He still expected me to cook for him while being that sick. He wouldn’t even allow me to lay on the couch and just rest. I asked him to get me something to drink and an hour passed by and I decided to do it myself. He then says “get me something while you’re up.” I was furious but too sick and weak to do anything. Not to long after that I had to go to the hospital because I wasn’t getting any better and I was afraid I’d have a miscarriage. As soon as I was admitted he left. He left me there knowing I had zero friends and family to come see me. I was in there for 3 days and when I called him for him to come get me he was pissed. Not just because he had to come get me but because I had woken him up from sleeping. I was out for two days and had to go back due to not only still throwing up but throwing up blood this time. I was admitted back in the hospital and this time for much longer. I was in there for about two weeks. After being asked questions about the relationship, the doctors, nurses and basically anyone who came into my room who worked there refused to release me back to him. During this time he never came to see me, never called me I always had to call him. My phone eventually got taken away and then I had to use the hospital phone. He left me high and dry and he didn’t care. He was too busy talking to an 18 year old still in high school and it wasn’t the first time he did that to me. My last night in there, because my mom (first abuser) was coming to get me out of there, he came and saw me. I was a nervous anxious mess. I was also scared. All he did was joke around and made jokes about having sex there. My nerves couldn’t handle it and I began to throw up. He said “well that’s my cue to leave,” and he left. He knew I was leaving the next day and told me to not come to his work and see him before I did. When we got to the house so I could get my things, he had already put them in a box and left it outside. I have never been so hurt and just felt so worthless. After I got away from him I truly wasn’t completely out from under his control. During my pregnancy he tried his best to control what I did, and I wasn’t allowed to “date” even though we were several states away from one another and we were not together at this point. Again he didn’t want me but he didn’t want anyone else to have me either. He wanted full control over me. Our phone calls were screaming matches and he threatened several times to take the baby away once he was born. I knew that would never happen because I knew he was too cheap to get a lawyer to do that. I gave him plenty of time to be there when they baby was born and of course he was a no show. Once I got home from the hospital I called him to let him know his son was born. Instead he yelled at me asking me where I’ve been because he couldn’t get a hold of me. I told him I had been in the hospital and if he tried to call the hospital he would have known that. Nope he rather have an excuse to be mad and yell at me. Sorry I was in the hospital having your baby, my bad!!! He did not really want to be a dad and hit the time my son was 5 he started asking about who his dad was. I didn’t lie and told him. Once again he sweet talked me into a relationship and I only did so for my child. I had to lie to my family in order for them to agree to it. I told him if it was the same crap he did 5 years prior I would end it. Not long into the relationship it was just that. The control started, the manipulation, gas lighting etc. He hadn’t changed. He was still talking to other girls, making demands, telling me what to do etc. I ended it and never went back. I tried to get him to be a father but he didn’t want to be one and I couldn’t force him. Walking away from him for the last time was the best thing I ever did. Yes it was hard but if I didn’t, something worse would have happened. I always get the question “why did you stay” or “why didn’t you leave?” It is not always that easy! He beat me down so much I truly believed no one else wanted me. I felt absolutely worthless. I had zero confidence, no self worth whatsoever. I also had no money, no car, no nothing. He made it to where I was completely dependent on him. The hospital is what saved me the first time by not releasing me back to him. The second time I was able to save myself and walk away before it was too late. I have other stories about being abused by another man, but other than being abused by my mother this one is the one that has left the most scars from a man. That relationship was truly damaging. Over time some memories don’t hurt as bad and still working on some triggers to this day. Though he has passed, the memories, triggers and trauma are still there. Abuse of any kind is never okay! LOVE ISN'T SUPPOSED TO HURT!!

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

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❤️

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There are pieces of different stories that fit my situation. I’m a successful executive and I am so embarrassed that I ignored all the red flags and got myself into this mess. I feel so unworthy, a combination of childhood emotional neglect, sexual assault as a teenager, and a 25 year marriage full of emotional neglect and infidelity. I even feel unworthy of putting myself in the same category as the survivors on this page, like my story isn’t as valid. He is a sexual assault survivor himself; he was molested by an older female cousin when he was little. That was part of the attraction at first. I thought we understood each other’s pain and would help each other heal what still remained. At first the attention felt like caring, like someone finally gave a damn. The requests to text where I was at all times, wanting to track my location and share his, wanting to talk or FaceTime all night on the phone, even sleeping with the call still going, next to me, when we weren’t together. Now I know it was about control and a deep lack of trust. I have learned over time to never look around at a restaurant or I will be accused of staring at another man. I have unfriended most of my male friends on social media and I am afraid to post anything in case one of the remaining ones comments. He demands that I show him any communication from any man on social media. He wants to know my work meeting schedule and gets upset if I don’t text him back right away. One time, he was out of town and my phone wasn’t plugged in correctly so the battery died during the overnight FaceTime call. I panicked when I woke up and realized what had happened, and he was furious with me. He wanted to know if I had cheated between 4 am and 8 am when the phone was dead. And I haven’t asked him to leave yet. I don’t know why. We have almost broken up several times, and every time I believe him that it will be different. It won’t be different. I am exhausted and I don’t recognize myself anymore. I am too ashamed to tell my friends or family the extent of it, although they know things are off.

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.

Growing up the idea of a husband (or a partner of any kind) being forceful with their partner was romanticized everywhere. Luke and Laura on General Hospital were portrayed as this grand romance, all the while knowing there was a rape in their history. So when my now ex-husband started forcing me to have sex when I wasn’t in the mood and was physically in pain right after I had had a miscarriage, and continued afterwards, I had this misguided belief that it was acceptable and just part of a relationship. It wasn’t until I finally reached out for help due to depression and anxiety, after years living as an alcoholic to try to self medicate other abuse trauma, that she helped me grasp I had been repeatedly raped and sexually assaulted on top of being physically and emotionally abused. Coming to terms with this finally helped me understand there was a root to my unhealthy relationship with sex. Grasping that no, it wasn’t OK and just something that happened to be forced. The change in the way these things have been seen and portrayed has also helped me find a better balance within. I’ve survived that trauma, and lived to see marital rape removed from the rape penal code exemption. Taking back my power over my life afterwards has been difficult, but I’m still here. I can still help others. No More!

When I was in my early to mid 20s, I experienced my first serious relationship. It took me more than 2 years to notice I was being manipulated, gaslighted, and psychologically abused. I lost myself in that relationship, I felt like a different person, constantly depressed, and lacking self love. My firsts attempts in getting out of that relationship were useless, he manipulated me into believing I was the problem and that I was the one who needed to change. I was cheated on multiple times, he didn’t want to say end time sith me or my family. I always founf myself making up excuses for him. He made me think that everything was my fault and that I was asking for too much of him. When I decided to leave him, he made me feel like I was the problem and like I was a burden to him. It’s hard to identify when the abuse is psychological, you’re not crazy, you’re not wrong for asking for attention, for dates, for quality time, which I never had with him. Don’t let anyone, humiliate, control, gaslight, or diminish you! You deserve love, support, peace, attention, RESPECT! Try to identify the red flags on that questionable relationship, it’ll get better and it’s never too late.

I’m now 27 and was in a 7 years relationship where my feelings weren’t heard. I was often abandoned while I poured all of my energy and efforts to him. I was abused physically and mentally. I had to give sexual offerings to get his attention and end any quarrels. I went through abortion and my mental health dropped. He discarded me when I was too much to handle. I was then diagnosed with ptsd, mdd and panic disorder. I’m still fighting for my life relapsing every now and then. Please pray for me

Hello, Name, and I am a domestic violence survivor reaching out in hopes of sharing my story to raise awareness and help protect other women and children. After enduring severe domestic violence, and my kids and I being kidnapped ..  I finally saw justice when the defendant in my case was found guilty and sentenced to 60 years in prison. While that conviction brought accountability, it did not end the impact of the abuse on my life or on my children’s lives. The violence we survived changed everything. My children witnessed trauma no child should ever experience, and we were forced to leave our home and everything familiar to start over in order to stay safe. The aftermath of abuse has affected our emotional well-being, stability, and ability to rebuild a sense of normalcy. I am sharing my story not for sympathy, but to bring awareness to the realities of domestic violence—especially how it affects children long after the court cases end. Survivors often escape with nothing, and rebuilding requires support, safety, and resources. Link If you are interested, I am willing to speak openly and honestly about what we endured, the legal process, and what life looks like after survival. My hope is that by telling our story, we can help save lives and bring awareness to the importance of protecting women and children. Thank you for your time and for the work you do in bringing important stories to light. Link Sincerely, NamecontactDomestic Violence Survivor