A Victim’s Story

A stranger’s puffy face, swollen with red, blue, gray skin. Bloodshot eyes too ashamed to look in the mirror together. Heavy eyelids weighed down in sadness. With great difficulty, I look up at my reflection and see the shadow of a woman, a girl, a nobody. Who is that looking back at me so vacant and gaunt?

The silence. The pain. When will it stop? When will it go away? I’m so tired. Is the real me gone forever? I can’t see her in the glass. I must be dead.

I grew up in a dysfunctional home with a mostly absent alcoholic father and a mother with mental health problems stemming from her being sexually abused as a child.

I’ve always been a caring, creative, and sociable person. I had my ups and downs and insecurities, but I also had hopes and dreams. I was determined to make a better life for myself.

I met him when I was in dental-hygiene school. He was charming and handsome, a military man. I quickly fell head over heels. He was a bit moody and jealous and liked to have things his own way, but I was in love.

I was often confused by his behavior, but I was desperate for him to like me and stay with me. I dropped my friends and changed my behavior to meet his expectations.

We had chemistry and I was hooked. We moved in together.

I attributed his increasingly confusing behavior, subtle criticisms, put-downs, and silent treatments to his personality or our cultural differences. I made excuses for his actions. He’s just different, I told myself. He has a strong character. I’m the only one who really

understands him. I pushed my gut feelings aside and married him. Over the next seven years, I endured emotional,

psychological, and physical abuse from this man whom I know exactly what they are doing. Abuse is about control. When you endure so much violence on a regular basis, maybe even away?

When he wasn’t being difficult we had a good time.

By this point my self-esteem had eroded to nonexistence. Simple decisions had become impossible because everything I did was wrong in his eyes. I had become an underweight shadow of my former self.

I leaned on Scripture and my Christian faith to survive. I often turned to 2 Timothy 1:7 for strength and support: “For God did not give us a spirit of fear but of power and love, and a sound mind.”

My courage returned slowly and not always so surely, but enough to face this new direction. You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.

Soon, good things began to happen. Within one month of leaving, the Lord had provided me with a job, a free car given to me by a stranger, and a new support system. I reclaimed my freedom.

Since leaving, I have completely rebuilt my life. I remained single for five years and worked on finding myself and rediscovering my self-worth. I threw myself at every opportunity because I had nothing left to lose. I learned to love myself and rebuild my boundaries.

I even met the real love of my life. I didn’t look for love, it just happened unexpectedly. He is so gentle and kind. He values me and treats me like a princess.

I now have a job doing work I am passionate about: being an advocate for people going through similar things I endured in my past. I have my voice back. You can reclaim yours, too. You may have been a victim in the past but that doesn’t mean you have to be a victim forever. What happened yesterday, last week, or five years ago doesn’t have to determine your destiny.

I emerged from the darkness into the light and no longer am a slave to fear. I am flourishing. I know myself. I am brave. I am worthwhile.