Trigger Warning: This blog includes descriptions of emotional, financial, sexual, and physical abuse. Triggers are different for everyone, and you never know when they may show up. I am sharing my story in hopes of helping others feel less alone, recognize that abuse is not their fault, and know that healing is possible. October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

When I published my first blog in October of 2014, I did so anonymously out of fear.
Fear from my ex-husband, his family, and my family.
I felt like my experiences were shameful, and I still felt like it was my fault.
So the fear and shame kept me from getting the help I needed.
I wanted to help others not feel like I did, but I was not ready to be completely honest about who I was and my experiences.
I come from a completely different place now.
I come from a place of compassion for myself and everyone else.
This was something that was unfamiliar to most of the people in my life.
I didn’t know who I was back then, and I am still a work in progress.
As I share, I want to be clear: some of the things I share may trigger someone.
Triggers are different for everyone. You never know when they are going to show up. I am sharing in hopes of helping others.
I want to go back to where it all started.
I was set up on a blind date by my mom and one of her co-workers. We only dated for a short time before we got engaged, and then we were married in June of 1996.
Within the second month of our marriage, he was constantly berating me.
He demanded I do my hair and makeup every day so I was presentable. I didn’t wear makeup most days while we were dating, and I generally wore my hair in a ponytail.
The abuse then became financial.
I came home several times to him telling me he had quit his job for one reason or another. I then had to work extra to pay the bills.
In the two years we were married, he had 10 different jobs.
As I filed for a protective order, I discovered he had actually been fired from most of those jobs—and several times he had been escorted out by police.
The abuse became sexual and physical.
He demanded sex two or three times a day. If I said “no,” he forcibly raped me and told me it was his right because he was my husband.
He would then tell me that if I told anyone, he would kill me.
There were many times I would lie on the bathroom floor praying that he would just kill me so I didn’t have to go through it anymore.
I am sharing these words now because I know something I didn’t know then:
What happened to me was abuse.
It wasn’t my fault.
And being married to someone never gave that person the right to my body.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC, 2026) defines intimate partner violence as abuse or aggression that occurs within a romantic relationship and includes physical violence, sexual violence, stalking, and psychological aggression. Sexual violence includes sexual activity when consent is not obtained or freely given.
I didn’t have those words when I was living it.
I had confusion.
I had fear.
I had shame.
I had survival.
And I had a growing belief that maybe something was wrong with me.
Looking Back at the Woman I Was
I can see the growth in my writing when I go back and read that first blog.
In October 2014, I wrote Opening a Dialog About Abuse.

I wrote about how abuse can take many forms—emotional, verbal, psychological, sexual, physical, neglect, family violence, and domestic or spousal violence.
I wrote about manipulation.
Blaming.
Threats.
Financial control.
Controlling what someone wears or how they look.
Isolation.
Forced sex.
Physical violence.
And the fear that keeps someone from telling the truth.
But underneath those words was a woman who was still trying to understand her own story.
I was beginning to speak, but I was still afraid of being heard.
That matters.
Because sometimes breaking the silence doesn’t happen in one dramatic moment.
Sometimes it happens one sentence at a time.
One conversation at a time.
One person telling the truth to another safe person.
One survivor realizing:
Maybe it wasn’t me.
I Didn’t Understand How Much the Abuse Had Changed Me
When I finally left my abusive marriage, I thought getting out would mean I was okay.
It didn’t.
I was out.
But I was still afraid.
I struggled with nightmares. I was hyperaware of my surroundings. I didn’t always know what would trigger me. I felt alone, insecure, unlovable, and broken.
I wrote about this in Getting Out of My Abusive Marriage.
Looking back, I can see something important:
Leaving the abuse and healing from the abuse were two different journeys.
Getting physically safe mattered tremendously.
But safety did not automatically erase what had happened.
Even years later, certain sounds, smells, words, memories, or situations could bring my body right back into a place of fear.
That is something I have written about many times over the years.
In Let’s Talk About Triggers, I explored the reality that triggers are deeply personal. What triggers one survivor may not trigger another.
That is why I have become careful about telling people what their healing should look like.
There is no one-size-fits-all healing journey.
Healing Became More Than Surviving
For a long time, I thought healing meant getting rid of everything painful.
Now I see it differently.
Healing has become learning to meet myself with compassion.
It has meant learning to listen to my thoughts, emotions, body, and spirit instead of constantly fighting against them.
It has meant learning that I can acknowledge what happened without allowing what happened to become my entire identity.
That idea has become central to the work I do today through Beyond Possibilities.
Healing isn’t about becoming someone new—it’s about uncovering who you’ve always been created to be.
Our experiences shape us.
Our childhood experiences shape us.
Our relationships shape us.
The things people say to us can shape the beliefs we carry about ourselves.
But beliefs can change.
The story can continue.
And becoming is a process.
That doesn’t mean pretending the past didn’t happen.
It means recognizing that the past does not have to write every chapter that comes after it.
My newer writing has moved into this space of listening to the mind, body, and spirit, using practices such as mindful breathing, movement, gratitude, reflective journaling, meditation, prayer, and emotional awareness as opportunities for self-reflection and emotional wellness.
For me, healing has become a daily practice rather than a finish line.
Healing is a journey, not a destination.

From Survivor to Warrior
In 2014, I wrote another blog titled No More Victims! We Need Warriors!.
At the time, I was trying to understand what it meant to reclaim my power.
I wrote about becoming a survivor.
And then I wrote about becoming a warrior.
Today, I would describe that word a little differently.
Being a warrior doesn’t mean I have to fight everyone.
It doesn’t mean I have to be angry all the time.
It doesn’t mean I have to prove how strong I am.
And it certainly doesn’t mean that a survivor has to identify as a warrior if that word doesn’t feel right to them.
For me, warrior means courage.
It means I am willing to face what happened.
It means I am willing to tell the truth.
It means I am willing to keep healing.
It means I am willing to stand beside someone else who is still afraid.
It means I can use my voice for something bigger than myself.
That is where advocacy entered my healing journey.
Becoming an Advocate
I don’t advocate for survivors because I have all the answers.
I advocate because I remember what it felt like to believe I was alone.
I remember being afraid.
I remember the shame.
I remember questioning myself.
I remember not knowing what was normal.
I remember what it felt like to believe I was responsible for someone else’s behavior.
And I remember how powerful it was when someone believed me.
Domestic violence is not always visible.
The CDC recognizes that intimate partner violence can include physical violence, sexual violence, stalking, and psychological aggression, and that it can have lasting effects on health and well-being (CDC, 2026).
That means advocacy isn’t only about talking about physical injuries.
It is also about talking about control.
Isolation.
Financial abuse.
Sexual coercion.
Manipulation.
Psychological abuse.
Stalking.
And the many ways someone can gradually lose their sense of self inside an abusive relationship.
My 2024 article, Breaking the Silence: Understanding the Hidden Signs of Domestic Violence and How to Help, came from that place.
It wasn’t only about survivors.
It was also about the people around them.
Because sometimes the person being abused isn’t ready to say, “I’m being abused.”
But someone who loves them may notice that they have become isolated.
They may notice fear.
Changes in behavior.
Financial control.
A constant need to keep their partner happy.
And sometimes the most important thing we can do is simply become a safe person.
Listen.
Believe them.
Don’t judge them.
Don’t demand that they leave before they are ready or able to do so.
Help them find appropriate resources.
And keep the door open.
The CDC identifies strategies for preventing intimate partner violence that include strengthening healthy relationship skills, engaging communities, creating protective environments, and supporting survivors (CDC, 2024).
Advocacy Doesn’t Mean We Have to Be Perfect
This is something I have had to learn personally.
I used to think I needed to have everything figured out before I could help anyone else.
I don’t believe that anymore.
I am still becoming.
I am still learning.
I still have moments when something catches me off guard.
I still have emotions.
I still have days when healing feels easier than others.
And I think that is important to say.
Because survivors don’t need other people pretending to be perfect.
They need people who are willing to be real.
They need people who understand that healing can be messy.
They need people who will not shame them for struggling.
They need people who will not tell them how quickly they should heal.
They need people who will sit beside them in the hard places and remind them:
You are still here.
Your story is not over.
You are worthy of support.
What happened to you does not determine your worth.

We Can Be Warriors Without Losing Our Compassion
One of the biggest changes in me has been moving from fighting everything to learning compassion.
Compassion for myself.
Compassion for the woman I was.
Compassion for the choices I made when I was afraid.
Compassion for the things I didn’t understand.
And compassion for other people whose journeys look completely different from mine.
I don’t know everything another survivor has experienced.
I don’t know every reason they stayed.
I don’t know every reason they went back.
I don’t know what resources they had—or didn’t have.
I don’t know what threats they were facing.
I don’t know what their children were experiencing.
I don’t know what their faith journey looked like.
I don’t know what their body was experiencing.
So I don’t want to judge their journey.
I want to support their journey.
That distinction matters.
We Need More People Willing to Break the Silence
I look back at the woman who anonymously published that first blog in 2014, and I feel compassion for her.
She was scared.
She was ashamed.
She was trying to make sense of something that had changed her life.
But she also had something else.
She had a desire to help someone else.
Even when I couldn’t tell the whole truth yet, I wanted someone else to know they weren’t alone.
That desire eventually became a voice.
The voice became a message.
The message became advocacy.
And advocacy became part of my healing.
My journey has moved from “What happened to me?”
to
“What can I do with what I have learned?”
That doesn’t erase the past.
It gives the past a different place in my story.
To the Survivor Who Is Reading This
If you are currently experiencing abuse, please know this:
You do not have to figure everything out today.
You do not have to explain everything perfectly.
You do not have to prove your experience to me.
And you do not have to heal according to anyone else’s timeline.
If you are in immediate danger, contact emergency services.
In the United States, the National Domestic Violence Hotline provides confidential support and access to advocates. You can call 800-799-SAFE (7233), text START to 88788, or use their online chat (National Domestic Violence Hotline, n.d.).
If contacting a resource could put you at greater risk because someone monitors your phone or internet activity, consider your digital safety and use a safer device or method of communication when possible. The National Domestic Violence Hotline provides digital-safety guidance for people concerned about monitored internet use (National Domestic Violence Hotline, n.d.).
And if you are not currently in an abusive situation but you are carrying the effects of one from your past, I want you to know something I had to learn for myself:
Getting out is not the end of the story.
There can still be healing.
There can still be growth.
There can still be joy.
There can still be love.
There can still be purpose.
There can still be possibilities.
A Mindful Healing Playlist
Music has been part of my healing journey for years.
Sometimes words aren’t enough.
Sometimes a song can reach a place inside us that conversation cannot.
Sometimes we need permission to cry.
Sometimes we need permission to breathe.
Sometimes we need to move.
Sometimes we need to remember that we are still here.
I am including a three-song Mindful Healing Playlist with this article because healing doesn’t always happen while we are sitting still and talking about our experiences.
Sometimes healing happens when we breathe.
When we move.
When we pray.
When we sing.
When we cry.
When we allow ourselves to feel.
When we remember that our bodies belong to us.
When we remember that our voices belong to us.
And when we begin to discover what is possible on the other side of survival.
From Survivor to Advocate to Warrior
When I look back across more than a decade of writing, I can see the evolution.
In 2014, I was afraid to put my name on my story.
I was learning how to speak.
Then I was learning how to leave.
Then I was learning how to live.
Then I was learning how to heal.
Then I began learning how to help others.
And now I am still becoming.
My story is not simply a story about abuse.
It is a story about what happened after the abuse.
It is a story about finding my voice.
It is a story about learning compassion.
It is a story about discovering that I am more than what happened to me.
It is a story about reclaiming pieces of myself.
It is a story about learning to listen to my mind, body, and spirit.
It is a story about faith.
It is a story about courage.
And it is a story about possibility.
Today, I can say:
I am a survivor.
I am an advocate.
And yes, I am a warrior.
Not because I am fearless.
But because I have learned that courage can exist right alongside fear.
Not because I have forgotten what happened.
But because I refuse to let what happened be the only thing my story is about.
Not because I have finished healing.
But because I am willing to keep healing.
And not because I have all the answers.
But because I am willing to keep learning, keep listening, keep speaking, and keep showing up.
To the Survivors. To the Supporters. To the Advocates. To the Warriors.
If you are a survivor, your healing matters.
If you are supporting a survivor, your presence matters.
If you are an advocate, your voice matters.
If you are a warrior, your courage matters.
But perhaps most importantly:
We don’t have to heal alone.
We don’t have to carry someone else’s story for them.
We don’t have to have all the answers.
We can simply become people who listen.
People who believe.
People who offer compassion instead of judgment.
People who help connect survivors with appropriate resources.
People who speak when silence has protected abuse.
People who teach healthy relationships.
People who help create communities where safety, respect, consent, and dignity matter.
And we can remember that healing looks different for every person.
My hope is that my story doesn’t tell you what your healing should look like.
My hope is that it reminds you that healing is possible.
That your story can change.
That your voice can return.
That you can discover parts of yourself you thought were gone forever.
That you can move from surviving toward living.
And that one day, you may find yourself standing beside someone else who is where you once were.
You may not be able to change what happened to them.
But you can remind them:
You are not alone.
I see you.
I believe you.
You deserve support.
Your life matters.
And maybe that is what being an advocate and a warrior really means.
We don’t fight for someone by taking away their power.
We stand with them while they reclaim their own.
We don’t tell them who they are.
We remind them that they get to discover who they are becoming.
We don’t erase their story.
We help create space for a new chapter.
Because healing is not about becoming someone new.
It is about uncovering who you’ve always been created to be.
And sometimes the greatest act of courage is simply being willing to say:
“This happened to me.
I survived.
I am healing.
I am becoming.
And I will use my voice to help someone else know they are not alone.”
That is advocacy.
That is courage.
That is the warrior within.
And that is the possibility of healing.
References
Beyond Abuse Essential Healing. (2014, October 4). Opening a dialog about abuse. https://beyondabuseessentialhealing.com/2014/10/04/opening-a-dialog-about-abuse/
Beyond Abuse Essential Healing. (2014, October 31). No more victims! We need warriors! https://beyondabuseessentialhealing.com/2014/10/31/we-are-not-victims-we-are-warriors/
Beyond Abuse Essential Healing. (2015, February 11). Getting out of my abusive marriage. https://beyondabuseessentialhealing.com/2015/02/11/getting-out-of-my-abusive-marriage/
Beyond Abuse Essential Healing. (2018, May 16). Let’s talk about triggers. https://beyondabuseessentialhealing.com/2018/05/16/lets-talk-about-triggers/
Beyond Abuse Essential Healing. (2024, October 17). Breaking the silence: Understanding the hidden signs of domestic violence and how to help. https://beyondabuseessentialhealing.com/2024/10/17/breaking-the-silence-understanding-the-hidden-signs-of-domestic-violence-and-how-to-help/
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2024, February 8). Preventing intimate partner violence. National Center for Injury Prevention and Control. https://www.cdc.gov/intimate-partner-violence/prevention/
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. (2026, August 19). About intimate partner violence. National Center for Injury Prevention and Control. https://www.cdc.gov/intimate-partner-violence/about/
National Domestic Violence Hotline. (n.d.). Get help. https://www.thehotline.org/get-help/




















