Until It Happens to You

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't aware of the amount of Domestic Violence that is endured by men and women around the world every single day- but this is the month that has been chosen to bring awareness, and I've been thinking about how I could use my words, and my experience to spread awareness. Sometimes, as a victim (god, I hate that word... ) survivor of domestic violence, it is difficult for me to put into words what those six years of my life were like. I was sexually, verbally, mentally, emotionally and physically abused by a man I was in love with - whom I have known since childhood. Six years is not a lot of time, to some, but to put it into perspective, that is 2,190 days.  That is 52,560 hours and if my math is right (#mathproblems) that is 3,153,600 minutes. The moments were not all bad- there were days that were so good, I was reminded that I loved him, and that he loved me. But it was like being held hostage... only no one knew I was being held hostage because I posted lots of smiling and happy photos on social media to prove to myself that I was ok. And unlike most hostage situations, no one posted ransom, no one was coming to save me, and at the end of the day when I finally managed to escape, instead of being overjoyed that I had liberated myself- I was left with the damage created in the wake of ending a relationship with a man who I believed loved me, but also completely left me feeling like I was broken and unloveable.

With therapy, and a lot of really hard work, I have gotten to a place in my life where my trauma does not define me. I am able to have a very healthy relationship with an amazing partner. I have fulfilling relationships with my family, and friends that I was unable (never unwilling.) to facilitate while in that relationship. 

As an aside, I hear that my abuser now lives in Van Buren Maine - I wish he had the ability to get a passport so he could leave the country and I never had to face the thought of running into him ever again. But alas, years of not paying child support means you relinquish your right to a passport (Rather, the government takes that right from you.) Maybe he'll abscond to Canada anyway. But I don't tell my story to get revenge on him. I don't tell this story because I feel like it is part of some feminist narrative - let me be 100% clear- this happens to men AND women. I tell my story, because if I speak these words out into the universe where they may help someone else, then what I went through might settle in someone else's heart- and they will know that it was not their fault. They will know that they did not cause another person to harm them. Surviving is hard. Putting one foot in front of another to rebuild your life, is brave. 

Your story is important and deserves to be heard.

You are a survivor.

You are enough.

You are not alone.