Overcoming Trauma: A Survivor’s Story of Finding Peace and Purpose

The Invisible Side of Abuse

It’s hard to imagine someone being capable of abusing another human being. That disbelief is normal. But just because it’s hard to believe, doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Most abuse doesn’t leave bruises. It’s emotional. It’s sexual. It’s psychological. And because so much of it is invisible, survivors are often forced to prove their pain — while being told they’re imagining it. I know that pain.

“Most abuse doesn’t leave visible marks. It’s emotional. It’s sexual. It’s psychological. And because so much of it is unseen, survivors often carry the weight of proving their pain — while being told they’re crazy.

I know that pain.”

Living Two Lives: The Hidden Reality Behind Closed Doors

My abuser was charming. A “good dad.” A churchgoer. The life of the party. But behind closed doors, he was something else entirely — a master manipulator. He didn’t need to hit me again. His control ran deeper than that.

Years of Blame: Believing It Was My Fault

It took me 13 years to realize: it wasn’t me.

For years, I believed I could fix it. I thought we just needed more money. That I needed to communicate better. That his trauma justified his cruelty. It took me 13 years to realize: It wasn’t me. The abuse wasn’t just yelling. It wasn’t just controlling our money or my body. It was sexual coercion. Forced participation. Public humiliation, masked by charm. Religious manipulation. Isolation. Fear. I attended life groups. Sat in church. Smiled at the world. Behind closed doors, I was just surviving.

The Breaking Point: When I Knew I Had to Leave

He controlled every piece of our life: Money. Sex. Work. Parenting. He threatened to take our children if I ever left. And at one point, a legal professional told me: if I filed for divorce, he’d win custody. That threat kept me trapped. Until one night, I couldn’t deny the danger anymore. The moment I realized I couldn’t protect my daughters by staying — I reached out. A counselor. A plan. An exit.

The Escape: A Counselor, a Plan, and a Way Out

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t clean. He refused to sign the papers. He stalked me. He tried to manipulate the courts. He even demanded I sign a clause that I wouldn’t remarry for six months after divorce. (Between you and me — I didn’t care.)

The Fallout: Fighting for Safety, Sanity, and Justice

What he did next… I’ll spare the details. But he hurt my daughters in a way I never thought he could — just to punish me. To keep me afraid. To try to break me. But a grand jury believed my daughter. A warrant was issued. And we began clawing our way toward peace.

Healing Isn’t Linear: The Guilt, Shame, and Strength It Took

I am here to tell you: I was not the chaos. I was not the problem, and neither are you.

Even then, I battled guilt. Shame. The whispers in my own head: “What if I’m the problem?” I’m here to tell you: I wasn’t the chaos. I wasn’t the problem. And neither are you. It took years. It took horses. It took walking into a domestic violence shelter last week — for the first time, for me — to realize I still hadn’t told my story. I’ve been fighting for my girls for so long, I forgot I was worth fighting for, too.

The Power of Survival: Rebuilding Life After Abuse

And now? My daughters are thriving. They are emotionally intelligent, empathetic, resilient. We’ve learned to turn our hyper-vigilance into a gift — creating safety for others. And me? I’m still healing. But I’m standing.

You’re Not Alone: Your Story Matters Too

So if you’re reading this, wondering if your story matters: It does. You do. You are not broken. You are not crazy. You are not the chaos. You are surviving. And someday — you will rise. You Matter. I Matter. Let’s never lose sight of that.