The beginning...

So, here I am, faced with the commitment I made to 411 people that "like" the Facebook page to post a blog with an overview of my story before I delve deeper into it in future blogs. Personally, I don't like saying that people "like" the Facebook page, because liking anything with the term "Verbal Abuse" seems wrong to me.

I know that I made a commitment to this group to slowly grow it until I have the time to manage it full time and turn it into a charity. It has been growing at the right rate, which is slow. I feel like we, together, will be able to help many women move in the right direction to heal.

I've shared it before, and will many times in the future. I decided to do this because when I searched online for personal stories, there were none. I found no validation and continued to feel like I was crazy, alone, and stuck. When we are safe and feel comfortable telling our stories, they will be extremely beneficial to the women* that read them.

This will be raw and unedited, and hopefully the thoughts will flow. I'm afraid to re-read it and edit as I write because there are humanistic characteristics and mistakes that will make some of you feel more comfortable with me. Today I have constantly thought about where I should begin. Do I pick a story out of so many and let it flow or do I gloss over the surface and continue another time with stories? I don't know yet. All day I have been bombarded by memories, as I am most days. Today was different because I want to share with you the best way that I can. I have been moved while responding to emails and Facebook messages lately by the stories and pleas for help. I realize over and over again that we are NOT alone in this. Our stories have different details, but are so much the same. We are afraid of our next word, step, or even breath whether we are still in contact with the abuser or not. The breath of the abuser is always on our neck, sticky and chilling. He changes, he stays the same...no matter...because it is always there.

Married once before, I met this man with hesitation that was overridden with infatuation. He was charismatic, confident, successful, playful, and interested. I never had felt true self confidence and was very concerned that I would never find someone to love me. He stood me up twice and I still went out with him because he talked to me like no one ever had before. We spent a fabulous week together shortly after because my son was at his father's for half of Christmas break. I fell fast, but his "easy going" attitude about me kept me from wanting to tell him. There were times that I should have walked away. Hind site is always 20/20. I can remember now that, during the first week after our first date, he told me that I was average looking but he could make me pretty. I hated this comment, but part of me wanted to be what he thought was pretty. The breaking down started the first week. I probably was under the impression that I could not be broken down by someone else because I had already done it to myself. I tried to remain calm and maintain balance, even through several times when he needed a "break" and when he had sex with his ex girlfriend. I stayed because I knew, no matter what, that he was it for me. A year after leaving, I know he was. If he had treated me like a human, that is. Dating, our relationship was kept secret because of our business relationship. No one found out that we were together for a year. I was five months pregnant and starting to show. Everyone at work thought that I was seeing a married man because I would not talk about my new boyfriend. I had to tell HR and go through the appropriate paths to have all of my files audited that went to his company.

He refused the pregnancy and told me to leave. He told me he was moving 45 minutes away and selling his house if I didn't get an abortion. I begged and pleaded. I am ashamed of how desperate I was. I wanted him to at least be in her life, and promised that he did not have to be with me. I was told I could not have children...and I was being blessed with one more. I could not "take care of it". That's my choice. Still, I called for a week. I emailed him babycenter, "Your baby's development" updates. I left letters on his door about what it meant to be a parent. I felt for him, never being a real father. He had been a step father for 8 years. The girl called him daddy...yet he hated her mother for leaving and never spoke to the girl that was a daughter to him again. I feel like I was blind, even knowing this. He called me one day and said that he was sorry. He turned on his beautiful, charming side, and I melted. A week later, he still had not told me he loved me, but had moved my son and myself in with him.

I thought that he hated us. Jokingly one day, I tried to get him to admit he even liked me. His response had something to do with me being too needy and if I wanted to stay in his house, I needed to realize what he was doing for us. It didn't matter if he liked me or not. The helper in me "knew" I could fix him...and it appears I have.

Email from right before I found out I was pregnant. I was already afraid and justifying why I needed to hear this...I hate seeing it now, but this is how he melted me:

Tell me ONE thing you think I do well, and one separate thing you like about me. No, I don't need this to feel better about myself. I am 100% confident in myself. No, I'm not being needy. No, this isn't a big deal. Yes, I need you to do this. After you tell me, I won't say another thing about it. Promise. I know you're irritated with me right now.

His response: You make me feel needed, like I'm wanted and that I'm a part of something.



He needed me, and that is what I needed. This is all I can do tonight. The memories are flooding in...but I will be sure I type them as they come to me and compile them in a blog that flows more for tomorrow. This is tougher than I thought...and I haven't even started.

*I want to make it clear that an abuser can be anyone. Male, female, child, relative, stranger, friend, etc. For the purposes of my story, it is a male.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
Ralph Waldo Emerson




Recovery is inevitable. I know this, but it is so hard not to be impatient at times. It's happening in the cycles that it is supposed to, according to the many helpful books I have read. I tried to rush it, but only made it worse. It can't be rushed. The problem with having the knowledge that I've acquired about this, and the deep interest in the subject matter for career development, is that I constantly believe that I can rise above it. I can't. There is nothing about me that is exceptional or different than any other woman trying to heal. I understand what is going on within me and why, but that's not enough. I actually have to do the work to heal. I have to remember that. My feelings of self worth cannot be reset every time him and I see each other, or even speak... I am worth so much more. I am worth this recovery.

I'm the only person that can define who I am. He never should have, and I cannot allow him to now. I know who I am and what I am worth. I am a caring, enthusiastic, hard working, intelligent woman. I am an excellent mother and have raised two brilliant, loving, beautiful children. I love my life. I love the people in my life...and I deserve it all.

Some days are tougher than others...but I'm getting closer.

I've surrounded myself with the people who can and want to:
make me smile.
smile because of me.
laugh with me.
care about me.
receive care from me.
be with me.
let me be there for them.
be there for me.




I'm going to add to this list later. The people that are in my life will be here forever. I have been fortunate enough to experience unimaginable support system in my family and friends. They are still by my side and I have no doubt that they value me as much as I value them.

Every day is a winding road...

....and I am getting a little bit closer.



I have a friend that told me that I had taken on too much when I decided that I wanted to share my story. I denied it. Completely. She (nicely) let me know that my goals were set too high and that I would only be setting myself up to, well, fail. I actually became upset with this. I'm trying to build my confidence back as an independent, capable, intelligent woman and she tells me to slow down. This didn't sit well with me. I felt like it was wrong of her to (sorry about the dramatic words here, but it is 1:30 in the morning) crush my dreams. As the only person that understood how much this meant to me, she should have been more supportive.

I now know that she was right. I admit it when I'm wrong about something, and boy was I wrong! Every time I think I've reached a stress threshold, I reach the next level. Not only is it painful to reminisce as often as I want to, but I still have to see him every other week. I have to see him for the rest of my life. I am fortunate that my education has rewarded me with more than common knowledge on the subject. I know that I suffer from PTSD and that I will continue to become traumatized every time I see him for an indefinite amount of time. I have been told by people who reserve PTSD for our military (which I am NOT denying here) that it is not PTSD I suffer; I'm just afraid of him. I smile, nod, say their beliefs are valid because they live in their reality and I live in mine, and never talk to them about it again.

Life is difficult right now, but I have a few wonderful highlights that I can't wait to begin to share. This blog is still reserved for the aftermath of this particular abuse. When I'm comfortable, I'll post a link to my "regular" blog that I've been keeping for years.

It is STILL my goal to share the stories from the beginning through recovery. It's a slow process, but it will be out there. If I could pause nursing school, the kids, the bills, and every other aspect of life, I would sit here and write a day by day history.

Although, once again, I posted no logical thought process, I know where I'm going with this. Tomorrow's (today?) a new day...and I'm going to own it. :) Happy Friday!


"The pessimist feels the wind and fears a hurricane. The optimist feels the wind and waits for the change. Comfortable people feel the wind and fly their kites."


My goal is to fly my kite.

Good intentions

Although I know this blog does not have loyal followers right now, I wanted to apologize for not living up to my goal of one post a day. Guilt is now a part of my every day life that I'm trying to overcome. I know that I do not have to justify to anyone that may read this blog now or in the future, but I will still do it. Currently, I am very busy with the every day complexities of being a single mom of two children and taking finals for my summer classes. I am stressed about finances and what the future will bring there.

Also, some days it is very painful to write or read about the past. This is all a part of recovery, though. I will end today with a beautiful song that gave me goosebumps from head to toe.

We are strong and we will make it out of the darkness. Awareness is the first step in the journey of healing. With support and knowledge, every one of us will rise out of the ground that we were buried alive in.

Sharing a story a day.

Since the whole reason behind this blog is to share experiences that other women may be able to relate to, I'm going to start. As I have said before, when I realized what was happening, I could not find validation. I felt crazy due to the abuse and like my thoughts might be all lies like he said they were. If one story resonates with one person, that will be worth it.

I've started to pull together the countless emails, recorded and text conversations. The stories are all there. They're unbelievable. If you were to tell me about four years ago that my life would turn into constant verbal battering, I wouldn't have believed you at all. I was too tough for that.

Before I start posting individual stories, please consider that this is difficult. I am battling PTSD right now. I lost insurance when I left, so I'm dealing with it on my own. I have flashbacks and nightmares. I constantly think I've made somebody angry and become filled with anxiety. If I don't hear from a friend for a day, I tend to think that I must have done something wrong. I search through text messages and my memory to figure out what I said or did to upset them. I apologize for it when they call. They never understand why I'm apologizing, because I'm embarrassed to tell them about the anxiety over their imagined anger.

I am very fortunate to have a wonderful support system. I can call my friends at any time and they will either come over or talk on the phone with me until the smoke clears. I have parents that understand what I'm going through and that are thrilled that I am out. I literally would not have left his house if it had not been for my friends and family. They could have saved my life.

Don't take what I've just said the wrong way. Yes, at times, I am suffering. I can say with complete honesty that through the suffering, I am happier than I ever was with him. I still have to see him because of our daughter. I do breathing exercises before he comes so that the anxiety isn't too great. I am happy. I am not being abused. I don't have to be ever again.

I admire every woman that leaves and every woman that stays. Hold your chin up, put your shoulders back, and do what you can. You are worth it.

Stories of yesterday.

I have been doing something extraordinarily painful the last few days. I have been going through years of emails and emailed text "conversations". Why? Why put myself through the pain? It seems worthless because I can't even count the number of times I've cried while doing this.

There are reasons why I'm doing this. I used to do it after I knew about the abuse so that I could remind myself of what was happening. I would get stuck in what some call the FOG (Fear, Obligation, Guilt) phase of abuse when he was "nice" to me. I could pick a random date over the span of our relationship and open an email. I then had my reminder that this was real. Now it is therapeutic sometimes because I am reminded that I did the right thing. I get lonely at times and wonder if I've made a mistake. I pick a random date, read, and the feeling is gone.

The reason I'm doing it now is important as well. I have a lot of work to do, and it could take me a long time. I have to remove personal, identifying details and figure out what to include and what not to. I'm going to publish it. I'm realistic in knowing that it could take years to do this. I am a full time student and mother while dealing with the PTSD from the abuse. I have set a goal, though, and will make the time to do this. Reading about others' encounters is what helped me recognize what was going on in my own relationship. As painful as it is to revisit my stories, a victim could see her story in mine. It could make the necessary difference.

Single Dad Laughing, You just broke your child.

This reminds me that there are men out there that recognize abuse and do not victimize others.