Healing From Domestic Violence — The Story of a Survivor
As I share this story with you today, I can only hope that my vulnerability will let another woman know that she is not alone in her struggle.
I battled for many years with whether or not I wanted to share my story. I didn’t want to “start shit” or be perceived as an attention seeker.
But one day, I finally decided it was time. Frankly, it felt terrifying. I was stepping into a level of vulnerability that only my closest loved ones had ever seen from me.
After I hit that post button, it felt surreal. What would happen?
Would my abuser be in my inbox the next day, raging, despite the fact his name was never mentioned?
Would my friends and family be uncomfortable knowing the depths of my trauma?
Would my Facebook friends pass judgement on me?
The reality was that what occurred after I shared my story was more powerful, beautiful, and freeing than I could have ever imagined.
I was overwhelmed with support and love, but even more importantly, the responses I received from other survivors of domestic violence truly cracked my heart right open.
Women thanked me for sharing my story, and letting them know they weren’t alone.
Women reached out to me to tell me how they were inspired to share their own stories and bring awareness to the shocking amount of domestic violence occurring in our world.
Women who had only been free of their abusers for weeks, days, or even hours shared with me that they had found hope for rebuilding their lives.
A handful of women even shared with me, that reading my story had saved their lives and inspired them to keep going.
This experience made me realize how important it is for us to talk about the realities of domestic violence, and the struggles we as survivors face during our healing.
I remember feeling so alone those first few months. It felt as if no one else could understand my pain. I felt as if no one else could handle hearing the depths of my own trauma. Sadly, I know many other women who felt the same way and struggled to battle their demons with no support.
This is exactly why I have chosen to publish this story. I can only hope that someone who reads this article will know they are not alone, that they are supported, and that there is always hope even on our darkest days.
Before we dive into my story, I will offer a trigger warning. We’ll be discussing domestic violence and miscarriage. If at any point during this story, you need to take a step back or stop reading, I understand and I myself have had to step back when reading other’s stories many times.
So, here it goes.
Five years ago, I lived in fear…
My own home was the most dangerous place I could be.
I left work every day with terror in the pit of my stomach, dreading what might await me when I got home.
He criticized me daily about everything from my past, to my sexuality, to my body.
He told me that I was disgusting.
He told me I was a whore.
He told me I was unlovable.
He convinced me for a time, that no one else would ever want to have me as a partner.
I was verbally, emotionally, or physically abused almost every single day for the last four months of our relationship.
I was never safe.
The relationship had started out seemingly normal. There were red flags like jealousy and gaslighting, but no violence occurred for the first six months.
Instead, those first months were spent picking away at my self-esteem, distancing me from my family and friends, and gaslighting me until even I was confused about my own realities.
The first time he hit me was two days before we found out I was pregnant with our child.
It started out slow. He’d get angry and beat me once every week or so.
The more times I forgave him, the more frequent the beatings became.
For months not a soul around me knew a thing, until the bruises started to become a staple of my appearance. I felt ashamed to see the looks of pity on my coworker’s faces.
One night in particular, things got even worse than usual.
In a rage, he tore our house to shreds and beat me for what felt like hours.
I tried to call the police. He broke my phone.
I tried to run. He picked me up and threw me flat on the concrete sidewalk, right in front of our house.
Thankfully, someone must have seen or heard what was happening and called the cops.
He went to jail that night. I filed an EPO. I thought it was finally over.
Sadly, it wasn’t.
When I went for a check-up after that incident, I found out our baby did not have a heartbeat.
There was of course no way to know if the loss had been caused by the abuse or if it had just happened naturally, and to me, it didn’t matter.
In my eyes, it did not matter anymore if he beat me because I couldn’t keep my own baby alive…
So I let him come home. There was a part of me who felt like only he could understand what it felt like to lose our baby.
I chose to have a natural miscarriage. I could not bear the thought of allowing a doctor to surgically remove my baby, although I understand and respect women who opt for a DNC.
I miscarried our child in February of 2016, alone in our bathroom.
He laid in our bed, yelling at me for daring to keep him awake with my cries.
It was a pain unlike any other. That night deeply affected me in so many ways.
This was the lowest point of my life.
Lots of people tried to save me. My mom, my friends, my coworkers, and even my neighbors.
But there was nothing anyone could do, because I didn’t love myself anymore.
It was months later, with his hands around my throat that I came to the realization…This was how I was going to die.
It was then that I started to gradually put my life back together, one piece at a time. Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy.
I kicked him out.
I changed the locks.
It took me months to stop responding to his messages.
It took years of silence on my end for him to finally stop trying to talk to me.
I had vivid flashbacks and nightmares about the abuse every night, and on occasion, I still do.
My heart and spirit were broken.
I blamed myself for the loss of my baby.
I struggled with panic attacks, anxiety, and my own self-worth.
I woke up in a panic every single night at four AM for months.
And I rarely went a day without crying.
But one day at a time, life got better.
A friend brought me to a Yoga class, and I found my safe space.
I showed up to classes late, and in tears with regularity. The teacher could have rejected me for being tardy, or sent me out for being a distraction with my silent cries. But instead, I found nothing but love in that space.
I am so grateful for the women who were in those classes. They truly have no idea how much they changed my life. They showed me how to hold space for others. They reminded me that our world is full of love, compassion, and understanding if you surround yourself with the right people. I will forever have a space in my heart for those women.
I started practicing Yoga several times a week.
It was on my Yoga mat that I learned how to love myself again.
I learned that the way I defined my own worth and the way I treated myself, defined how others treated me.
I learned how to make my own choices and engage in exploration with my body and my life.
I learned to recognize the ways my trauma was showing up in my physical body.
I learned tools to help me manage my anxiety and my triggers.
I learned how meditate and create my own peace.
I learned that I could let others write my story, or I could choose to take back my power and write my own.
I learned that I was more resilient than I ever knew.
5 years later…
I love myself, unconditionally.
I am the mother of a healthy and thriving 3-year-old girl.
I am a small business owner, sharing my passion with the world.
I get to spend my days sharing the life-changing practice of Trauma-sensitive Yoga with domestic violence survivors.
In May, I will marry a wonderful man who loves me and treats me with respect and kindness.
I understand my triggers, and I have the tools I need to help me overcome them.
I have boundaries, and I respect them.
I respect and protect myself; body, mind and soul.
Today, I am empowered. I know that I am the only person who gets to write my story.
So why the heck am I telling you all of this?
I choose to share this with you because I want you to know that no matter how bad it is, it can get better.
If you had asked me five years ago where I thought I would be today, I would have never in a million years have expected that I would be thriving today. But here I am, living a life that I love.
And I want you to know that you deserve a life free of abuse.
You deserve to be safe.
You deserve love that does not leave scars.
You are worthy of your own respect, compassion, and love.
You are strong enough to leave, even if it does not feel like it. I know it is hard and scary to leave. Always remember there are people out there who want to help you get to safety. They know the precautions to take. They know how to help you start rebuilding your life. All you have to do is seek them out.
We are survivors and we can thrive.
If you are currently living in an abusive relationship, please reach out for help.
National Domestic Violence Hotline
Free and confidential, available 24/7
1–800–799–7233
Or visit
www.thehotline.com for chat support
If you are in immediate danger, please call 911.
If you are a domestic violence survivor who has made your way to safety, and would like to join a community of supportive women to learn more about how Trauma-sensitive Yoga and mindset coaching can help you along your journey, you can join my free Facebook group below:
Warrior Women: Yoga and Mindfulness for Domestic Violence Survivors
