Abuse. That’s a hard word for me. Even sometimes now I find myself questioning it like “but was I actually abused?”. Back then I wouldn’t have called it that. I would tell myself, well he’s not hitting me so he’s not abusing me. It took me years and plenty of therapy to be able to comprehend that what I went through was actual abuse. It was mental and emotional and sometimes financial. And as my therapist pointed out, even though I wasn’t physically hit, there was still some sort of physical abuse going on. I’ll get into all that more down the road. But I was able to pull myself out of that situation and a big reason for that was my daughter.

I would constantly look at her and think to myself I would never want her to think this kind of relationship is okay or normal or healthy. I wouldn’t want her to go through the same things I did. After she was born I knew something had to change. It still took me about a year longer, but one day I finally got the courage to leave. And even though those next 6-7 years after were really hard, leaving was the best decision I ever made for my daughter and myself.

Here I am over 10 years later. I have a smart and beautiful daughter, I have the most wonderful partner I could ask for and I am happier than I have ever been before. I have so much more confidence and self worth and self love. I’m more kind and compassionate to myself. I am no longer embarrassed or ashamed of who I am; I am my authentic, weird self. And hopefully I am teaching my daughter to be all of that and more.