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I won't protect him anymore. I won't hide what he did. I won't suffer in silence because the atrocities of what happened makes the bystanders uncomfortable when I tell my story. Sit with it. Feel the discomfort. Feel a crumb of the fear I felt every day I came home from school. Feel the shame of not believing me when I said I was afraid for my life, and you denied me shelter. Sent me back to the place where I was supposed to feel safety, but instead feared for my life by my father. He tells me "a parents' job is to be better than their parents were to them." Well the bar was set pretty damn low. Just because your dad was abusive too, doesn't give you an excuse to abuse me. How is my heart opened and more compassionate after how you've broken it, but yours only wants to break others? I didn't choose to be born. You brought me into this world, and you made it very clear that you could take me out of it, if you so desired. I loved you. I still love you. The hardest part of all of this was fighting the childlike, optimistic image I had of you. I still fight it. Everything in my soul wants to love you. Wants to have more of your "good days." But the other side of me hates that you stole my childhood. For haunting my dreams. For the everyday fear - even though I've moved thousands of miles away. Bystanders - don't tell me "one day things will be okay, and you will talk to your father again." He can't change.

Ten days after my daughterX discharge from the hospital, where she had undergone brain surgeries for epilepsy, X was resting in her bedroom and my ex-husband asked me to help him buy something online. I said no (very unusual but I was fixing something for X. to eat) and he exploded, throwing hot coffee on me then trashing the kitchen. And for the first time, a light bulb went on in my mind. The light said, "This is going to stop." Once he saw that something fundamental had changed inside me - that I was indeed serious - he escalated his tactics week by week. We had been married for almost 20 years, and he was absolutely incredulous that I was leaving him. All he knew how to do in response was more assault, more threats, more stalking, more financial theft. He was out of his mind. At one point he stood on the steps outside our house screaming "Why didn't you abort the kids?" over and over. For about 6-8 months I'm pretty sure he was considering doing a murder/suicide. I had to leave everything behind to get away - the home, friends, my job. I sold everything of value that I owned. Since I had grown up in a home of domestic violence, I didn't understand it very well, even as I was being victimized. I didn't know that shoving someone, kicking someone, and throwing objects or hot liquid at someone are all against the law. I didn't know that insults, name-calling, and coercive sex aren't part of normal relationships. I didn't know how dishonest my ex-husband was (and is).

I would like to help women ( or men) learn that you can overcome the difficulty of leaving Domestic Violence and start life , in my case, for the 1st time I was "married" for 20 years in the DV and have been out for 13 years. It is a difficult process, but worth the effort to give yourself your life.

I’m 20 now; when I was 13 a childhood friend started to see me in a more (clearly) sexual light. I wasn’t very attractive as a child (big curly hair, acne, too tall for my age), so when he began to show interest I didn’t discourage it. I even flirted back. We met at our old middle school, once, before our freshman year of highschool. He didn’t want to look at me, he only wanted to touch me. He kissed me in a way that’s irrepetible because of how violating it was. Once we started highschool, he asked to come over to my house. I thought he was just joking because it was 9pm at the time. He took me behind my apartment complex and wouldn’t listen to me when i said stop. I told one of my sophomore friends, who reported it to the school as a sexual assault. He and I had separate meetings with the school, and our schedules were changed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened, because of how popular he was. He began going around our school telling everyone he had r***d me (he hadn’t). Then he flipped the narrative that, of course i was lying. I would hear girls talking about me when I was sitting right in front of them. I wanted my story to be heard. I wanted everyone to know what he did to me. Nobody listened. Nobody cared. Nobody apologized to me. “He didnt do it to me, and he’s still my friend, sooo….” is what I heard from 80% of the girls that I told. That experience cracked me. When I was 15, I was (ACTUALLY) r***d by a 34 year old man. I felt like I was ruined goods. I felt like nobody cared about what happened to me, nobody cared that I was so traumatized that i didn’t care if i lived or died. Later that year, I met a 19 year old who got me on fentanyl. I would overdose 4 times in front of him. After the last one, he told me I had wasted money and product with my overdose. We stayed together until I was 16.5 and he was about to be 21. He ‘cheated’ on me with a 14 year old and countless of his friends. By 17, I realized my Prince Charming was never going to come save me, and I had to do it myself. I decided to start my own life. Stop living in the past, and get my shit together. I enrolled in community college hoping to get my nursing degree eventually. Realized that wasn’t the right path for me, and now I’m 2 months away from graduating from a prestigious cosmetology school & am the executive assistant at a 5 star salon. For some of us, it’s on ourselves to pick the pieces up and put everything back together. Now that I am 20 years old, I feel that i’ve lost so much time suffering in my silence, so much youth wasted as an anxious puddle who didn’t want to be perceived. Live for your future. Live for the laughter and the smiles. Every day we make it through, is a day we accomplished. Some days will be better than others, but we’re always moving forwards, never backwards.

I grew up in an emotionally and mentally abusive household. I never knew when I’d be in trouble next, and the feeling of walking on eggshells created in me a need for hyper-vigilance. I became angrier the older I got, and when I was 17, I ran down the steps to try and intervene when my dad was yelling in my mom’s face. He chased me up the steps, and I was able to lock myself in my room. Even though I was never smacked in my face or punched or even beat, I was spanked within an inch of my life. Quite often I could barely sit, and it really did a number on me. I swore I’d never get married if this was what marriage was all about. I am very thankful I was able to break that cycle, and today I am married to a very passionate, loving husband who promised to keep me safe and has kept his promise. There is light at the end of the tunnel. You can break that cycle of abuse. It has taken me years to try and undo the damage that was done to me, and even now, I still struggle with the PTSD and automatic jumping if someone steps too quickly or raises their voice a bit too loudly. But I am thankful I have been able to raise my own kids much differently and show them how healthy relationships work.

HELLO PEOPLE , its nice we can share our stories over here . So im a 19 year old girl from india who has a very typical indian family of four , me my little brother, mother and father . So my story is , my father used to physically abuse my mother since i was some months old , it started . he beat her over silly reasons . then when i gradually grew up and reached class 1 i was 6or 7 years old at that time , my father made me study for an entrance exam for class 6th and the syllabus was all of class 6th and 7th 9(to be noted that i was in class 1 at that point) . so my father made me study high level subjects of class 6th when i was still in class 1 which was a very tough job for me . i couldnt understand anything , and then my father used to beat me . he never let me play with friends , go out , in short he never let me have my childhood as childhood . he was always very extremely focused on my studies but forgot that i was still a child . We lived far from my father's village where my grandmother lived so in every summer vacations he used to take me and kept me there in the village where he would give me tution classes for the examination prep so i never got to enjoy my vacations . When was home , again the same thing , study and watch domestic violence at home . i always had to hear really abusive words which as a child i got traumatized . so when i was in class 2 , my mother got into an extramarital affair which i found out eventually and i hated my mother for that i was very shameful and i wanted to tell my father about this but i didnt . eventually my father found out and i remember that day when he beat her so much after he catch her red handed . It was a divorce situation but even then they stayed. my mother was no more into affair stuff but still i hated her . i wished she would die . later as i grew up the violence continued at home where i had to stop them both , physical abuse , abusive words and everything continued . it was really toxic . they both used to abuse me and my brother verbally with words like slut , Name and any abusive slangs you can think of . this is to be noted that my mother was also not very decent or you can say nice , she didnt do household chores at time , didnt made food on time , was extremely lazy (to be noted that my father helped her in everything ) but she didnt cuz she was ill manned to be honest . and so all of this continues and when i was in 1 i had my first boyfriend and my parents found out and they kind of accepted it at the first so when i appeared for 10th boards , i scored a 90.2 percent despite being in love and stuff but my parents where not happy infact they shamed me for my result (to be noted that they have never been satisfied by my results even if i score the full marks or become the topper they just always compare me with other children which made my self esteem and confidence shatter ) . they blamed me and my love affair for the 90.2 percent i scored which was too less for them because i was not the topper , the topper was at 93 . and now im in college , 3 years have passed by after that result but still they abuse and compare me for my 90.2 percent . i attempted suicide twice but i survived and they dont know bout this . i always get suicidal thoughts . they have never given me any privacy , they take control of everything , dont let me go out , visit a friend , talk to a friend over call . its suffocating . now im 19 and im again preparing for an exam , they have continued they abuse , domestic violence and everything . they make me hear for anything i eat , they have locked me up in a room where i have a laptop and study and sit here the whole day . they verablly abuse me a lot . some days ago i had a packet of noodles when i was hungry because my mom hadn't prepared food and it was very late and my mom found out that i ate noodles and she called me slut and other slangs infront of all neighbours . they always have been toxic . please mind that i have no problem studying . but i dont think something which takes away your entire childhood from you is not worth it . So my entire teenage and childhood was destroyed . i dont know how my adulthood would go because they wont let me live they are always here to pull me down . i wish i could just die .

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

I didn't realise until over a year after the separation that the relationship I had been in for almost a decade was abusive. I was confused, I was lost, I doubted every thought and memory I had because that's what I'd been conditioned to do. He used to tell me I had a bad memory, that I remembered the incident wrongly; he would start an argument in the car on the way to what was supposed to be a pleasant gathering with friends; he would criticise me all the time and when I finally snapped and shouted at him to stop criticising, he said I was crazy. He didn't let me sleep a full night for 4 years after our baby was born, I was exhausted, I was extremely anxious about everything. I was in fight or flight mode all the time. The last straw was him shouting at our child all the time because he made a noise, because he made a mess, because of something. I know all this now, but I didn't understand what was happening at the time. I will still second guess myself if anyone vaguely questions my choice or my decision. I was strong before and I lost my voice. I'm fighting hard to get it back but post separation abuse is real and it's difficult when someone is constantly trying to invalidate you and dismiss your concerns. No more. We have to talk about it, join together and eradicate a permissiveness that allows victims to be suppressed and perpetrators to continue unchecked.

At the tender age of 9 I was molested by a family member. This went on for 3 years. When I did mention it to my immediate family I broke down and was admitted to the hospital for a period of 48 hours. I was truly saddened and really felt alone. I carried this burden on for over 20 something years where afterwards I befriended someone that physically abused me. I ignored the red flags and in order to keep my children safe I told the perpetrator that I will stay. He would hit me in the back of my head many times to this day I have a small protruding disc in the back of my skull. The last incident when I knew that I couldn't take anymore and that my children would be safe is when he tried to throw me down my stairs after straddling me while choking me. I prayed and I asked God for strength. This was in Date. I found the strength to heal, seek therapy and start my own nonprofit (Nonprofit name) which serves Women and Children of domestic violence with temporary shelter, counseling, and 10-week trauma sessions. I now know my Worth and I know that I am a Woman that matters.

It’s difficult to come to terms with being a “victim”., especially if you’re a strong person in your work environment, extended family environment, and community. Who would believe that an outspoken, bold, intelligent, leader in their family (to the outside) who would never stand for anyone around them being demeaned let alone abused in their presence, wouldn’t be able to stand up for themselves to their partner? Seems like an unlikely scenario to most. There are so many various answers to that but my personal answer is common with a lot of victims…my children. Is it fair that, if I (we) leave that they’ll never know their father like they would if I stayed? As a Mother I would do anything for my children, including dealing with things I never would if I didn’t have children. If I leave am I not “strong enough” to just deal with what he says/does? I can’t be weak in front of my children. Fast forward 16 years from the time I left the house with my children. At first, things were amicable because he couldn’t let anyone in on his true self. He couldn’t show what he said and did to me and eventually to one of our sons, for fear of being “found out”. Him finally losing the control he once had over us abruptly ended that facade. One night during his visitation time, my one son sent me a frantic message on a texting app; my son had to make a fake account to text because their father didn’t allow them to speak with me on his time. He told me that “Daddy just beat up ___”, my other son. Thinking maybe he just spanked him I asked a few more general questions, not truly believing what he was saying. It was apparent by his answers that he was not being dramatic or embellishing. I asked if he wanted me to call the police and he said yes, at which time my heart sunk and my mind went to places I shouldn’t admit to in writing. The police and CPS showed up to his house. That was the last private visitation the boys ever had with their father, per a court ruling. For the entire 16 years since I left him, we have been in Family and Supreme Court at least twice each year and have had 13 separate restraining orders against him, his family members, and his new girlfriend. A victim’s advocate went to the court hearings with me for support that I didn’t realize I needed (but I didn’t know how to tell my lawyer no thank you to the offer of help at the time). He continued the mental abuse by attempting to destroy my reputation to friends/family/people I’ve never even met, on social media and in our community. He claimed “parent alienation” and that I was mentally unstable and a danger to the children. The court had previously awarded me 100% physical and decision-making custody/rights but I wasn’t about to put my children’s business on social media to defend myself to people who were too naive to see through his smear campaign. When he no longer had the means to physically or mentally abuse the boys and I, he turned to financial abuse. Refusing to pay child support, canceling the boys’ health insurance (that he was court ordered to provide), and bringing me to court for frivolous and repetitive claims just so I had to take off of work and pay for a lawyer. He told the Judge that if he didn’t get private visitation with his kids he wasn’t paying for them. Needless to say,, the court never awarded him visitation after the assault on our son. For 11 years the boys have had control of speaking with him/seeing him if they chose to and felt safe enough to. They haven’t seen him once and they are now in their 20’s. In realizing that we would never be able to count on him providing for the boys as he ethically should, I returned to college to earn a more sought after degree that had more stability and flexibility than my career at the time. He had told my son at one point that I’d “never be able to take care of them without him”, which ended up being my motivation at the hardest points of earning two new degrees. To illustrate the financial situation, he still owes me over $60,000 in back child support, medical, and college fees but with my new career (and some good old-fashioned hard work and stubbornness) I increased my salary by over $120,000/year; that was 8 years ago. It has never been about money, it will always be about principle and his previous statement basically telling my children I was useless as a parent (merely because of money) without him. I had to prove him wrong. I gained back the control. Control over myself, my boys’ future, and my personal financial situation. It’s hard to leave. It’s scary to run a million negative scenarios through your head of what will happen if you do leave. Will you be able to feed your kids, have a roof over their head, or be able to deal with all the stress without turning to negative coping skills? You can. I did. Millions of single parents have. Is it easy? Absolutely not, not one day of those 16 years has been easy but everyday has been worth it. My boys unfortunately saw a lot of the bad things that went on even when I thought they were shielded from it. They also saw me never give up FOR THEM! I never wanted to be a “single parent” even as a divorced parent. I wanted to co-parent and be cordial at events, no matter the situation. It didn’t end up like that and in the immensely sad words of my then 12-year old son, “he hurt us and doesn’t love us but he did teach me the most important thing in life, what kind of parent not to be”. I felt like a failure in life for picking him to be their father. You may be a victim in part of your story but you’re not a victim in your whole story. Thankfully I’ve learned that “victim” isn’t actually a bad word, it’s a temporary situation. Make a plan to leave, run it through your head 10 times or 100 times, perfect that plan, lean on who you can trust, and safely leave. You’re in control of the rest of your story!

As a domestic abuse survivor, I can tell you that our scars are not always visible. I think the emotional, verbal, and sexual abuse is sometimes worse….. because it takes longer to heal from. My ex had me so turned around, backwards, and upside down. I didn’t know whether he was coming or going and often found myself desperately wanting him to stay, like it was all my fault and I had done something wrong….., the sad part is…. I am my healthiest and happiest self every single time he left. Then just when I thought I would be, could be ok…… he’d be back agreeing to counseling or being a better dad or whatever it took . This time I hope to have the strength to not let him back in .

You hear it all over the news. You see it in films and tv shows. As women, we are often warned, and we hear comments about ‘safety in numbers’ when you go to the toilet. ‘Watch your drinks’ when out and about. ‘Don’t show that much skin, cover up’. ‘You can’t wear that.’ ‘Get a taxi home, it’s not safe to walk’… unfortunately words can not protect you from the intentions of others. I went on a night out with friends, a reunion that started off so well. I remember the dancing, the constant flow of drinks…pints, gin, vodka, sambuca to name a few. Yes, it is not ideal to mix however, when you are reminiscing, and your group had a booth with a table full of drinks; you would probably do the same! Anyway, the lights flashed, the music bounced off the walls and suddenly a trip to the loo mixed with alcohol on a busy autumn international night in Location…makes you forget what floor you left your friends on. Fast forward to the smoking area alone on the phone, where I swayed and debated leaving. “A taxi home would be safer than walking in the rain”. Before I was allowed in, I had to pay by card, he insisted on no cash. I entered the taxi behind the passenger seat in the back and it began. The looks through the rear-view mirror were instant…my memory of the journey is absent until we reach my corner. My directions at this point were now ignored but I trusted him. He parked, away from my house. He locked the car with me still inside. He looked back. “Kiss me”. He had hold of my wrists and climbed through to the back where he began to sexually assault me. I am unsure for how long this lasted but he later broke away and asked to use my toilet. This enabled me to get out of the car so…I said yes. Why I ever thought I could get into my house first in a pair of heels whilst heavily intoxicated I do not know, but even so, I looked back to see how ahead I was…even now I can see him running down that pavement to reach me at my door. In my own home, he was in control. He stole my breath, he stole my voice, he stole my body. He raped me. No one ever prepares you for an event like that, or even how to tell your parents. I went to SARC, I did the forensics and repetitive questions, and I was told it would take years of my life away if I were to take it further. So, I went back to work the following Monday as I had a responsibility to fulfil. It weighed on my shoulders. I knew there was an expectation. Many google searches informed me of my next steps…I made an anonymous complaint to the Police, and everything began to move. Everything became intense…I was living out what felt like a BBC drama. Months later he denied it in court, so we went to trial. The support I received was minimal. I was still working, taking unpaid time off. My close family and friends were those who got me through the days in court, the days in-between and the days I live now. I took away the screen during my time on the stand, I answered every insulting question and remark. I looked him in the eyes, he held eye contact for only a few seconds before breaking into a smirk; as I broke down in the stand. I was torn to pieces in front of a judge, jury and courtroom. In front of him, who proceeded to spin his web of lies which were the complete opposite to the ones he had said in his initial statement. “To be a good liar, one needs a good memory” …He was found guilty. It took 2 weeks for me to be seen as a victim and believed. Fast forward to the sentencing hearing where my main pillars of support accompanied me…I read out my victim impact statement… He got 11 years…a minimum of 8 ½. I got a lifetime sentence, anxiety, depression, dissociation, insomnia, scars and PTSD. February 2024, 2 months after the 1st anniversary; I made my 3rd attempt. A phone call from a friend pulled me back to reality, who later pulled me off the bridge. A mixture of anger, tears and confusion filled the next couple of days, and I knew I needed to take back control of my mind and body. Which is hard when his monstrous hands are imprinted, his poisonous breath echoing in and flooding my ears and the pain weighing heavy on my body. This time I had to do something different. I could not bring myself to hurt anyone else further, so I searched online. I came across The Survivors Trust and after a quick scan through what they had to offer, I instantly thought ‘why wasn’t I told about this sooner?’. Talking can feel repetitive especially when you cannot explain how exactly you are feeling…which is ok in this sense because of their ‘Survivor Resources’. They echo that everyone has a different healing journey and they have sets of resources that have been put together with the survivor in mind…whilst also having a section for those who are looking for help on how to support a survivor they love in their lives. The Survivors Trust then became an outlet for me because even though I am very much at the beginning of my healing journey, I felt responsible and motivated to raise awareness for this charity. No one should ever have to face a traumatic event like this but sadly, the actions of others are something we cannot control. Therefore, I created a Facebook page called ‘Name’ and started promoting my quiz night followed by live music and started a Just Giving Page. I never anticipated a big response; I had a goal of £1000. A goal of raising awareness for the charity, fellow victims and survivors. A goal to inform. The CSEW estimated that 1.1 million adults aged 16 years and over experienced sexual assault in the year ending March 2022 (798,000 women and 275,000 men). 15% of girls and 5% of boys have experienced sexual violence by the time they are sixteen. Every five minutes in the UK someone experiences rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault by penetration. ‘On the face of it, something has to change’ (Prima Facie, 2022). Date he was sentenced. Date 2 I raised a total of Specific amount from site.. People have different opinions on the length of time to which I will be ‘fixed’. “Sometimes, it takes a few days”. A few days, a few weeks; a few months to fully grasp what happened, to trust myself? Living in and out of my own body, not knowing when it is truly me or what is now left. The sleepless nights, the nights that repeat every detail. Every once in a while, my ears go out, ringing as I simply stare into thin air, dissociating and remembering each and every detail without speaking a word. Sometimes it only takes a smell, a name, a piece of clothing, a sound to take me back to these moments. It does not take much to remind the brain of the agony. It’s hard. I float throughout each day, each night, as each aspect of the memory replays every time, I take a second to think…no matter where or who I am with. It is currently day 630…I have finally started EMDR therapy, I am still at times in denial of the events, and I am very much at the beginning of my journey. I am beginning to understand there is no timeframe on healing and with the support of this charity, my close family and name, taking time to self-care and keeping up with my medication is all I can do for now. Everyone is different. Therefore, it is totally natural to heal and deal with trauma in different ways. I work and like to keep busy…some say to avoid/escape the flashbacks but unfortunately, they do not escape me. However, although I have tried many times not to be…I am alive, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure things change. No one should live in the fear of not being believed. No one should be put into situations where they experience a type of sexual assault. No one should have to go through something they could not control and feel guilty for the rest of their lives. No one should feel alone. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel shame, guilt, embarrassment, regret and the list goes on but I will get there. I am alive today because of the resources and support presented on The Survivors Trust site. My journey is very much at the beginning, and I so wish I knew about this charity sooner. Therefore, this is me giving back as well as letting others know about the charity, not only the victims either…Survivors Trust helps everyone impacted. Raising Amountp is just the start of the work I will be doing for the charity. It is okay to talk, there are people who will believe, who will support in any way they can. Together we are stronger…you do not have to face this battle alone. I have recently continued to share my story and been a listening ear to others on my page Name on Instagram and Facebook. I don't want anyone to ever feel alone in their trauma, in their healing, in their journey. I am far beyond cured. My EMDR therapy has been completed but its like a bomb has gone off...I've accepted what has happened, happened. But it'll forever be part of who I am no matter how many steps forward I take. He gets out in 5 years and is then under watch for 3 years as he is eased back into society - that support has been planned for him. However, if I didn't attempt to take my life 5 times...I would never have been put forward for MH screening by my gp who then referred me for EMDR. I wasn't given any support from SARC or Victim Support - and it's honestly made me feel so defeated yet again by him. Yes, he was found guilty and went to prison in 2023 but I am the one serving the life sentence.

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.

I want to share my experiences, as I have many times but never in print or where I can leave it for other survivors to read. I want you to know that you ARE better than the abuse you might be receiving. You ARE amazing. You ARE resilient and can absolutely do whatever you set your mind to. I was in an abusive relationship for 8 years. Of course the abuse started slowly, so slowly I could write it off as my fault or an accident. I lived with a friend at 21 and met the man who would eventually become my children's father. I remember telling my friend that he had shoved me on the bed, directly on my cat so I might hurt her too. I remember that friend telling me "He reminds me of my ex-husband, the one who broke my jaw for catching him cheating on me" and of course I didn't listen. Slowly the abuse got worse physically, mentally, emotionally. Eventually I started to fight back, not physically but would try to talk him down or just defend myself and he would rape me, as a point to show me who was still in control. I had out of body experiences- got knocked out by force- to wake up locked away in a hotel room with my keys gone and phone taken so I couldn't call for help. I loved him and couldn't bear to call the police on him- by this time I knew he was here illegally. I knew most of his family were here illegally. They would sit around the living room hearing me getting my ass handed to me and in the beginning I wondered why they wouldn't interfere- I later learned that if anyone interfered then my beating got worse because "you're cheating on me with HIM" or something similar. A couple years go by and most of my friends have moved on or were disgusted that I stayed with him- I was pretty good at hiding what was really going on because he loved hitting me where most people wouldn't see a bruise. I truly believed that I could help him, or fix him, because his childhood was rough growing up in the mountainous countryside of location and his father was abusive. Plus I knew that for the most part their women are brought up submissive, so it was all acceptable for a long time. I made excuses for him and he would cry to me and say "I know it's wrong but I can't help it, I watched it my whole life- watched my mother die because of my father." Plus he crossed the border when he was about 16 and was traumatized from that also. He just knew how to manipulate me and my emotions and for years I had no idea. I was attending college while pregnant at 25 and my classmates knew and tried to help me but I wasn't ready yet. Not until he hit me and split my eyebrow open with his fist when I was 6 months pregnant. My mom dragged me to the police station and wouldn't let me leave until I pressed charges against him. That was when she learned about my years of abuse- my family suspected but I was good at hiding it. It took me having my little girl - my saving grace, my reason for waking up back then- to learn I was better than the abuse I was getting. I realized that I didn't want her growing up in that kind of environment, never wanted her to think that any sort of abuse is okay or even remotely acceptable. That was when I started thinking about leaving him. That's when God shows up glaringly obvious to me then- he gets arrested. Finally I have one foot out the door. Then 2. Then I lose that apartment we were living in because I had been on HUD and he wasn't supposed to be there. I go back to my parents house with my 1 year old daughter. A year later I get pregnant once more by him. By this time I am self-medicating for depression/anxiety/PTSD and trying to fill that void left behind by him. He had introduced me to drugs and snorting pills during our relationship. I was struggling with answering/not answering the phone when he called and jumping when he asked for things. By all rights, my 2nd child should have been born with withdrawals and once again God showed up for me and my child. A month prior to her birth I went to church and without even knowing me that pastor spoke to my soul and him and his congregation healed my unborn child. Today my girls are age 1 &age 2years old and thriving. My little savior and miracle child. Their father was deported a few years ago and he stopped calling/checking in on our girls. They know what kind of person he was and how he treated me and they don't really want anything to do with him though they have attempted to reach him via FB because they want answers. They want to know why he doesn't try to call them anymore, why he hurt me. I have never wanted to be that parent who keeps their kids from the other parent. My mom struggles with that concept but honors it for them. I want my kids to decide whether they want him in their life or not though he seems to have made that choice for them. He has always been selfish. 18 years later I still struggle with my self worth, have struggled to stay clean. I am strong, I am resilient, I am a great mom. I love myself Most days. Most days I know my worth, though I have been in a relationship with someone I thought was perfect for me but now I struggle with whether or not this relationship is healthy.

In the months following my assasult, I grew so angry. Poetry was my outlet, to not be quiet and be as angry as I wanted. 100 pages of poetry marred by tears, anger, betrayal, hope, and happiness. On the 100th page, it was dedicated to survivors, I hope that whoever reads this, will find some degree of comfort as I did when writing it. Dear Survivors, You are more than enough. You are worthy of all the stars and gold combined on this Earth. What happened does not define you, you are more than that. From one to another, it’s tough, it’s difficult. You’ll have your ups and downs, happy moments and miserably haunting ones. But, I’ll say this; Thrive. In all honesty, thriving will be tough. But it’s the best reward there ever will be. You deserve to thrive and live and have fun and experience life. What happened to you does not define you, but it is a part of you. What happened to you is not shameful, what happened to you is not your fault- it never will be. Do not let those around you shame you and beat down on you, quieting you and your story. You are the writer of your own story. You decide if you want to forgive. You decide if you don’t want to forgive. You decide if you want to be the bigger person or not. You get to decide. Don't let anyone else tell you any differently. C.P.

I was with a man i thought was my forever he turned abusive 1 year in we were together for 11 years before I got out I had 3 kids with him and kept telling my self it was my falut he was verbal physical mental and sexual abusive

For a long time, a seemingly eternity, I have always felt ashamed at being at the receiving end of DV as a man. I always thought that it eroded my masculinity. After 12 years since leaving my abuser, and with age, I see things differently, but surely scars always remain. The thing about DV for men is that society, a big part at least, discard DV as reason why a husband would end a marriage with a wife. I guess the gossip of extramarital affairs has more of a ring than people confronting the ugly truth that a woman, and a charming one at social gatherings, can be abusive, mean, and violent. Without going into the long history of violence pre-marriage, as early as maybe the first six months of going out, I got delivered my first black eye in an elevator. Now I can laugh at it - picture having a heated argument with your girlfriend, you walk out towards the elevator, as you wait you hear footsteps approaching you, the elevator opens, you turn your back towards the footsteps and see you girlfriend, and think, she’s come around and maybe ready to talk. Instead, youre delivered a punch to your eye that pushes you to the back of the elevator, and the doors closed as you’re thinking what the hell just happened. The complexity of my story is that by the time I decided to leave her, 12 years after the elevator incident, there were 2 small children involved, a 3 and half little boy, and a couple of months old girl. Leaving your children is the must gut wrenching thing that any parent has to deal with. There was a certain stigma attached… why? Why did he leave this poor woman with two small children - he is a monster, untrustworthy, cheater, what kind of man would do that? And these were not comments for strangers, in some cases, they came from colleagues, ‘friends’. Truth is that it took many attempts. The defining one, surprisingly came for my little boy. In one of the final fights, my little one intervened. He stepped in, took me out of the room by the hand, took me to the living room and in his imperfect language told me that ‘mommy is angry right now, so stay here, but then she will be ok’. I will never forget the bravery of this boy to stop his mother from hitting his father. As I cried in the sofa, something inside me snapped. I would not allow my little boy, and infant girl, to see that kind of DV ever. That would be the last time, or so, that I would be abused. We separated, she moved to the US to her parents with the children. In that year I visited frequently. After a year she came back to the country where I was stationed, seeking reconciliation for the benefit of the children. I had moved on. Incredibly, I had met an incredible person who took what I call the most significant gamble in history - a leap of faith. She took a broken man and gave so much care and love, that I actually began to erase so much numbness. In the years that have passed, I’ve had so much time to reflect. To put it simply, no body ever should feel that there is no way out, even though it would seem that way. When I was in the deep end of things, I remember thinking that I was in this deep hole, but the only person in the world that could take me out of there was the person who put me there in the first place. That’s the thing about abusers, they hurt you, but after, they try to make it up doing things that you mistake for love and care - let me make you a chicken soup so you feel better. Or, you made me do this to you, but let me go get ice so your face doesn’t swell. In hindsight, I should have spoken more, be less ashamed. I feel I did not counter sufficiently the narrative that was put forth by my ex-wife. The narrative that I left her for another person, and that I never wanted kids, therefore, thats why I fled the home. The reality is that the impact of leaving the children was the heaviest toll that to this day I carry. After three court cases, in three countries, and a joint custody, I finally have a peace of mind that the children, now teens, are ok, and that seeing them happy, truly happy, and doing well at school and socially might have been a sacrifice worth taking. Their mother was never violent towards them, or at least not in a physical manner. Some takeaways: 1. There are signs, there are always signs. Do not ignore them as you begin entering more serious stages of relationships.. As one lady said to me one day on the street, when she witnessed my girlfriend hitting me. ‘If she hits you now, wait until youre married’. 2. Confided in family and friends, and listen to them! They know you better than perhaps, when youre young, you know yourself. After I got divorced, some school friends came to me and said…. Really? You thought that would work? 3. Be honest with yourself. You know if something is wrong. If there are red flags. Be honest with yourself. 4. Importantly, there are many people in the world and there is a special one that is willing to place all her/his chips to bet on you. You shouldn’t feel cornered and that you will face eternal loneliness once you leave your abuser, no matter how many times they will say that to you. 5. It is better to be alone than being in an unhealthy relationship. Your mental health will thank you for it. 6. Lastly, leaving an abuser is not an act of cowardice, throwing the towel, it’s an act of love, to yourself!

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.

I've suffered sexual, physical and emotional abuse in not one but two relationships in my life.......It began back in Date I'd come out of a long-term relationship of 5yrs and probably on the rebound (although I didn't think that at the time as a tender 23yr old) met a guy in our local pub. He seemed nice enough and we entered into a relationship. Soon though the signs appeared, gaslighting, name calling, eroding my self-esteem. I stupidly ignored the signs and continued in the relationship, even marrying him! The night before we were due to be married I was in floods of tears but his sister said it was probably just pre-wedding nerves (no-one knew how I was suffering at his hands) I should've called it off, kicked him out of MY house and got on my life, but you become so embroiled in everything, and it becomes 'normal' to feel scared, anxious and dependant on this person, totally alienated from friends, family and anyone who wasn't 'him'. I was controlled monetarily, emotionally in every aspect of my life, how I dressed, where I went, how much money I spent and became increasingly isolated and DEPENDANT on him! I was working a full time job earning more than him, but couldn't spend a penny without checking with him first, and I stupidly went along with it. I received phone calls and text pretty much all the time checking where I was, with whom, what I was doing, I was CONTROLLED. The abuse happened regularly emotional, physical, mental and financial but I was so scared and lost......I FEARED him and became like a cornered animal with nowhere to turn. When our daughter turned 2 I finally realised that I had to get out, I didn't want her to think this was what a relationship looked like. That was the hardest decision I've ever made in my life! After 9yrs I was free, but was I? No, the emotional scars ran very deep and I was a shadow of the person I once was, I was petrified of everything, but I had a child who relied on me. I bought my own house, divorced him and tried to adapt to my new life............ Fast forward to the end of another failed marriage nearly a decade ago, I'm in my late 40's by now, own my own home, work, own a car etc, but sadly lacking in friends I'd lost them all years before and the few remaining were all married so I joined a dating website and matched with a man who I'd known years ago as a teenager. We started a relationship. This man stripped away everything I'd rebuilt, he tormented me, followed me, abused me, he'd turn up in supermarkets when I was shopping. I'd entered into another nightmare situation, but occasionally I fought back, literally!! I'd stupidly given him a key to my house, and if I tried to end things he'd let himself in, hound me with phone calls, flowers, the usual tactics abusers turn to. I couldn't even look out of the car windows on journeys as I'd be accused of 'looking' at men! One night though, he thought he'd killed me, he pushed me on a night out and my head hit the pavement hard, I was so dazed I laid there, not sure whether I lost consciousness We spent 10 months together, and then he collapsed and died on my bedroom floor at 50yrs old, and God forgive me, but I was free! He wouldn't ever harass me again, he was gone............And this time I was free, totally free. And that is my story, without the hideous details of the level of abuse I suffered as no-one needs to read all the details, it triggers me even now thinking back, but I survived, I'm still recovering and always will be, but I'm now 55, married to the love of my life, my soulmate, my safe place.

I had only been a freshman at my undergrad for 5 days when I was sexually harassed and eventually assaulted, by someone who I thought was a friend. We were walking campus with a large group and the two of us lived in the same building, we were headed back up for the night. He didn’t get off the elevator on his floor, instead he waited and got off on mine. I thought he was being kind and so we walked do the hall, I wished him a good night and turned to unlock my door. All of a sudden he was trying to push open my door. He started kissing and touching me. I finally got him of of me and screamed. It was enough to get him to leave in the moment. After this, he was texting me nonstop. Threatening his life if I wasn’t with him sexually, threatening me, and saying terrible things to and about me. Eventually I told my Resident Assistant and asked for help blocking him. He told his boss and they called me in for a meeting. I shared everything that had happened and she told me that she thought I had a drinking problem and sent me to AA instead of addressing the assault. She blamed me. Sometimes even I still blame me.