Before my husband, I thought another man was the one.
From the beginning, all the red flags were there. I should have left months earlier, but young love is blind.
I was cheated on, and I paid dearly for it.
Because I figured out his truth, he slapped the words from my face.
Because I fought to protect myself, I was beaten.
He poured poison into my mind and it broke my spirit.
“Who could love you“
“You need makeup to look beautiful”
“Stupid, desperate, bitch”
“You need professional help”
“You’re not good enough”
“Who will love someone with their face so fucked up with acne scars”
“I can’t stand you”
“I don’t give a fuck what happens to you”
“You deserve this”
He was allowed to see, do and go as he pleased. If someone gave me the time of day, another blow to my face. I can’t name anything worse than waking up and still be in the clutches of the nightmare that put you in the darkness.
I suffered unimaginable grief alone.
Too scared to tell anyone.
Too ashamed of it.
I lost trust in men.
I lost faith in myself.
Years have passed.
Years of my husband breaking down the walls and chasing the nightmares away.
When we couldn’t take all the pain away ourselves, I reached out for help. Therapy was the only way I could stop the mirrors from singing his ugly lies that he used to break me down.
PTSD isn’t just found in war. It can also be caused from verbal and physical abuse. I have triggers just like the others.
This will always be a part of my life…
Everyday, I fight to make this story be about how I survived, how I became aware of my own strength and fought like hell to get away from that nightmare. My story won’t read about a weak woman who stay a victim to a man that was selfish, cruel and weak.
My story is how I healed and found myself again.
If you’re suffering from the hands of someone else; find an ounce of courage and tell someone. Get help.
National Domestic Violence Hotline: