Community

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.

I grew up in a very violet household and later found myself in a terrifying situation after leaving my partner. I was stalked and maliciously attacked by him. I was unable to get much help as he was a military man and the city has more intentions of protecting him than me. It has made me one of the strongest people I know. I am a survivor and I use my voice and story to inspire others to get out and find a new way. It ends with all of us together.

I had become accustomed to being called horrible names (fat, bitch, cunt, stupid,whore, hairy,pathetic, ugly) being screamed at, shoved, pushed, hair pulled, my wrist grabbed so hard that I think I have nerve damage. But the day he punched me, choked me and I thought I was going to die is when I had enough. It was the lowest scariest moment in my life. Before it got to that extreme I felt I had to tolerate the abuse what I then labeled bad behaviors because that’s what loving someone else was. I accepted it as part of his short comings and believed I was so mentally strong they did not affect me. I also believed I could change him if I just showed him I loved him enough. That I could heal his wounds. It was a lie I told myself not realizing how toxic that was. When someone that claims to love you and who you love treats you with such disrespect, it wounds even the strongest of us. Eventually, that love became hate for him and for myself. I carried so much shame too because I couldn't believe that I allowed him to treat me with such cruelty. I believed myself stupid and weak. I was vulnerable because I craved affection. I was codependent and did not know it. I was easy prey for a narcissist. After I left him a part of me was relieved but another part was so hurt and lost. I had days I felt like just crying and staying in bed, days going to work was almost impossible because I hated myself for everything specifically where I found myself at 27. I soon realized that what I thought was weak was actually the good in me. The understanding, emphatic and caring parts of me were not weakness, I was just giving that to someone that did not deserve it. Did not deserve me. I had to learn to heal by showing myself the compassion and love I gave him. I had to learn to love myself and I did. I realized I am strong and resilient and deserve to be happy. I found my joy to live and an inner strength I had no idea I possessed. To anyone that feels trapped in a cycle of abuse I say you are not alone and you are NOT crazy. I remember the first time I allowed myself to speak about all the abuse. It was to a therapist and I only seeked out therapy because I no longer recognized myself. I was either sad or angry and began suffering from anxiety. She said to me, I can't imagine how it feels to live with all those feelings and I remember crying. For the first time, I felt like my feelings mattered and I was not insane because I had been gaslighted and manipulated to the point I didn’t trust my feelings. Most of that hour I was balling and could not stop. It was like the flood gates opened and there was no closing them. I just had to wait for it to empty out. The pain I was holding in was indescribable. I just know I do not wish it to anyone. It was also the start of my healing. The last few years on my own have forced me to grow and really love myself. I can say today that I look back at that time and feel like this all happened to someone else. There are moments, triggers that remind me of the sad girl I once was but I am so much stronger now that they do not last. It took years to get here, and there is still work I got to do like learn to be vulnerable again but one thing I know for sure, I will NEVER go back to that version of me.

When I was younger, I was sexually abused. Those words still sting. He was a neighbor and family friend who gained my trust at a young age. I felt so alone, ashamed, guilty, dirty. I felt so stuck. It took years for me to open up and start talking about it. But taking that step, and sharing my story, began my healing journey. I was abused for almost 10 years before it stopped. I am here to share my story to say that there is a light. There is hope. Taking that step to share your story is the first step towards healing. Healing is possible. You are not alone 💙

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

I survived. I got out. You can too. Insidious and devious are the words I think of when I've wondered how I got trapped. My ex-spouse was so charming, everybody thought he was a great person and I did too. So much so that I decided to ignore the fact he raped me and chalked it up to us drinking. Then gradually as we dated and then married he tried to spin a web of control around me by being angry and violent when I would spend time with friends or go to the gym or go to the library to study. Telling me I was not allowed to go to the gym because there were men there. Being told I couldn't go to work events. Calling my work when I was working late and accusing me of having affairs, then being verbally and physically abusive. He was so successful at manipulating others even my dad, initially, didn't believe me when I told him about the monster and the horrible things I had endured. I finally told my dad what had been going on when he threatened to kill me and chased me with a baseball bat. I was able to get in my car and get away and called my dad crying and screaming. He thought I had lost my mind. Some of my friends also thought I had lost it, and told me oh he is so nice and scoffed when I said I was filing for divorce and a protective order. After the first two calls to the sheriff they believed me and were so kind, frequently driving by my house and making sure I was safe. There is power in being believed. There is strength in knowing that others have made it out both alive and eventually became whole. I still experience occasional flashbacks and certain situations will trigger my anxiety, but I am able to trust people again and no longer fear "being in trouble" if I spend time with friends. Even more, I have allowed myself to become emotionally vulnerable with other people again after all these years. That was a huge leap for me. And I genuinely feel like a good person again.

I met a guy in 2018 and we got together after my grandmother died. After seeing each other a couple of times, the physical altercations started. Why I let it happen and stayed, I really could not tell you. I made 3 police reports but they were all eventually dismissed. We eventually moved in together and had a son. I did love him and he took care of me (I'm a type 1 diabetic). He was very sweet and always told me I was the most beautiful woman in the world. BUT he was very jealous and possessive and whenever we fought, he usually put his hands on me. I got a black eye, bruised ribs, scratches, bruises, a busted lip, a chipped tooth and many scars. In 2023, he passed away from a drug overdose. I was very sad but also I felt like I was now free. That sounds so awful but I didn't have to worry anymore about going somewhere he didn't want me to or talking to someone he didn't want me to or just doing anything he didn't want me to. Again, why did I stay? I did truly love him and other than that, I don't know.

Was it really that bad? Healing after getting out can be a rollercoaster of emotions and self doubt. You're not alone, sharing your story helps others to stop being silenced out of shame. Sometimes the healing process is hard because we remember more, or feel what we tried not to feel. You don't have to worry about being believable, focus on your own healing journey because you lived it, and need to trust the process. Your story, and what you lived, is testimony enough.

I'm a 63-year-old woman who has endured abuse all of my life. The abuse started with my mother who was a narcissistic sociopath. She would beat me with a 2x4 shaped into a paddle so she could get a good grip on it. I would get beaten every single day. She would say the abuse was due to me wetting my underwear. I would have to take off my underwear every night and she would smell them. If they had even the slightest hint of urine that was enough of a reason to get beaten. It was like a catch 24, if I was out playing I wouldn't go home to go to the bathroom because I was afraid of getting beaten, but if I didn't go home to go to the bathroom I would get beaten. I spent my entire childhood in fear. She would steal my money, throw my things away, tell lies about me. She knew I was my father's favorite, so I wasn't allowed to speak to him. I was brainwashed to believe this was how every family lived. When I got married I married my mother. He also abused me. He would lie, cheat, and steal from me. I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. When I would go to my treatments I would take Fish crackers to help with the nausea. One day I went to the cupboard to get my crackers and they were all gone but one, just enough to make it look like they were still there and the container wouldn't have to be thrown away. I also was diagnosed with brittle bone disease. I was told I needed to drink alot of milk. We had a refrigerator in the garage where I would keep 5 gallons of milk, along with 1 gallon that was in the house refrigerator. One day I went out to the garage to get a gallon of milk and all 5 gallons were gone. He had drank all 5 gallons in just one week. Can you imagine doing that to your wife who has Stage IV breast cancer!!! He threw a hammer at my head as I was walking away from him. He burned our home to the ground and told the detectives I did it. He is also a narcissistic sociopath. While he was doing all this, he got my daughter to go along with him. She, as of today 10/11/25, is a liar, cheater, thief. She is abusive. She's only 25 and already has been married twice, has 2 children from each marriage and she hates them both. She uses her children as pawns to get her way. She has already used two childhood friends to try and get to me. I'm not stupid, I know what she's up to and I'm not falling for it. I've been divorced for 3 years now. I've changed my name, moved away, and started my life over, but she still finds me. I'm terrified of her. I know what she's capable of. I thought once I got divorced I would be free of the abuse, but I'm not. At this time, all I have is my faith that God will take care of me. God got me out of a horrific situation and I have faith the God will continue watching over me. I'm so happy I got out of my marriage, which lasted 35 years. The divorce took 3 years; the judge said it should've only taken 9 months. He wanted everything, so I gave him everything. The law needs to be trained to understand mental illness such as narcissistic sociopath to understand that they are prolific liars. My divorce attorney's husband even said, "he lies so well you almost have to believe him." That's the problem, the legal system believes them so the innocent get punished and the perpetrators get away with it.

My story was 24 years(18-42) of abuse. I was controlled by my narcissist same sex Ex. She was super controlling. I wasn't allowed to have friends or to wear jeans or pants.. Everything was always my fault and I had to earn her forgiveness. All this time het older brother started by raping and sexually abusing me Then he started human trafficking me. First it was to get into BDSM gatherings and then when he lost his job it was for money for him. I wss kept in place by threats against my now Ex and her son who was 4 when it started. I got out December 2012.. I was taking taxis because my ex had hurt her leg and I wasn't allowed to drive or have a license.. I met my now husband that way. I don't know why but I felt a connection with him for some reason. The day that ended it all in my mind. Was I had to take s train to my then therapist. She mafe me take her brother with me and said I could only go to therapy if I did that. Ot was my taxi driver who picked us up and he loed to get senior rate and didn't tip. I went back out to settle the money and wound up talking to my now husband, Husband for like 45 minutes. Husband figured out who he was and didn't eant to leave me there. I wasn't ready yet. Eventually, I left amd left everything, but she had him there all the time and she wouldn't allow me to bring Husband. So my stuff wasn't worth it. I am out and safe now, but am still plaqued by flashbacks and memories. I have been without a therapist since right before Covid. My therapist went on a two month cruise and didn't set me up with anyone to see while she was gone. Thst is sll for now I don't want to say to much Survivor

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

The latch clicked quietly as the husband slunk out the front door after pulling it closed behind him. Soon he'd be in the bed of another woman across town. Only anticipating the rapturous evening awaiting him a few sultry miles away, he never once pondered who the wife he was leaving behind the closed door would be having in her bed. Nor did his selfish burning need coax him in the direction of caring. With one hand she snuffed out the glow of the Benson & Hedges in the ashtray and let it fall amongst the remnants of expired fags. With her other hand she pulled me onto her young, firm, milky white body. Like a baker kneading dough she pushed my face into a voluptuous breast whose excited nipple immediately disappeared between my trembling lips. As this was my first time, with many more sinful nights to come, I relied on her every command to guide me as she moaned "Now lick it" while exhaling an intoxicated breath. Swirling my tongue around my new found endeavor was not what I had ever imagined I'd be doing, especially with such a young beautiful wife...of another man. Like a football goalie terminating an attempted goal she cupped my head with a steely grip, and her slender fingers became entangled in my now sweaty hair as my aroused vixen slid my face down past her belly button onto a patch of hair that was as soft as cotton candy, It was a dark place under the covers, but enough light bled through the cotton veil enabling me to see my way to where she murmured more directions. "Put your tongue in it" Still not knowing what I was doing I followed her every command. As I licked where she said, I flinched as her nails dug into my scalp, and like an old hand at it I instinctively darted my tongue between the folds while massaging and prodding with my exploring fingers. I could tell she approved with each trembling moan. Soon there would more undercover escapades, but it seemed she had tired of just me, and I wasn't enough for her vile hunger. Now laying beside me was my younger brother. We did everything together, and here we were at it again. He was two years my junior, and so much more inexperienced than me, so he did like his older bro, following my lead just like I had followed hers. With each click of the front door as he left to engorge in his own delights, our threesome nights grew longer, consequently making my days harder to struggle through. Often, I'd fall asleep on my desk, twitching and knocking my box of Crayons onto the school floor. My first-grade teacher would wipe the drool from my mouth and

I come here today with the utmost need of to tell my truth no longer be silenced and the need to be able to break these chains rather invisible or not they're there I have suffered for 20 plus years from abuse from an individual who suffers from narcissistic personality I'm pretty sure the subtype is passive aggressive covert malignant narcissism . He has shown documented behaviors of being a sociopath. This individual also suffers from substance abuse and sex addiction. My needs for housing transportation and financial support is a means of causing intentional harm by exploitation of my imminent needs for human basic survival and he knows that my disabilities cause me to not be able to get proper help because of my social and communication disorders and brain injury. Being a victim who also has disabilities of all kinds creates a much bigger barrier because I can't do communal living spaces. There is no way to get free every phone call to national special victims I get a recorded message and no one calls back..I'm posting a link for my fundraiser because I've gotten no help and if help doesn't come soon I will just be a statistic but helping me get free is way bigger than me it gives a ability to bring about systematic change to help others not have to suffer in silence anymore Please help me Link

He would break up with me and then win me back. This went on for over a year. We were staying at a local hotel for the weekend to celebrate his birthday. We got into an argument in public so I went back to the hotel room by myself. I didn’t let him back in the hotel room when he first got back and instead, packed up all of his belongings. Once I let him in, he threw some of his things. I asked him to leave. He got on his phone. I asked him to leave again and he pushed me down onto my back. He proceeded to punch me over and over again in my eye and head. After the first punch, I said “I’m sorry, please stop”. His response was, “so NOW you’re sorry”. When he finally stopped, I immediately ran to the wall and got crouched down, as blood gushed out of my nose. I again pleaded for him to leave as he cussed at me. He did leave after that. He broke my orbital floor in my eye and my finger. I filed a protective order and was granted it for a year.

I am now 74 years old and still suffer PTSD related to my abuse over 50 years ago. I was married for 7 years and 5 of them were spent trying to find resources so I could leave. Unfortunately, there were none. The police officers would tell me, “You need to figure this out.” I had four children. My second son passed at 6 weeks. Which was a god send because my husband had another girl pregnant. She ended up getting an illegal abortion inCity. My third child, a girl, is still with me. My fourth child I gave up for adoption because I was planning on leaving and didn’t know what my future held. I was rescued by my father on a very chaotic night. I packed two suitcases and my 20 year old sister drove me to their house while my father stayed behind to confront my husband. Of course he completely denied any abuse but my dad had proof that he couldn’t argue with. I believe my dad threatened his life. Within two weeks I was in counseling that was charging what my income was. Nothing. So my counseling sessions were $1.50 a week. I had a hysterectomy that my husband refused to let me have, and signed up for nursing school. I lived with my parents for a little over a year until I graduated. I bought a beater car and became a single mother of 2. I am not an easy person to know because of my suspicions about peoples motives. Trauma is something that fades with time. I married again after five years and have been married 42 years. My message is to never give up. Thankfully, there are many resources for women now. Push and push hard to be seen and heard. I finally found my voice, you can too.

When I was 16, I was attacked by a mutual friend. Duct taped and tied to the bed, I've never felt so scared. I just froze and I hated myself for a long time because I always thought it was my fault and I should've protected myself. I later learned that freezing is a natural trauma response. He raped me, I didn't ask for that, no one does. I couldn't speak about it to anyone because no one would listen, everyone just thought I was making it up. It took a long time and lots of therapy to be where I am today. 8 years later, I found my people and am thriving. If it weren't for the other survivors around me, I wouldn't be here today.

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