10/01/2026
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
I thought domestic violence looked like the things we see in movies, the obvious, unmistakable kind. I didn't understand how complicated it could feel when the person hurting you was also someone you loved, someone you built a family with, someone you never imagined you'd be afraid of.
I questioned myself. I wondered whether I had communicated well enough, whether I had contributed to the conflict, whether I was being too sensitive, or whether things would have been different if I'd done something differently.
I've spent a lot of time (and therapy) untangling those questions.
I'm learning that acknowledging my own imperfections does not mean taking responsibility for someone else's choice to physically hurt me or emotionally manipulate me when I was already vulnerable.
I'm also learning that you don't have to minimize what happened because there were good times, because you loved the person, because you stayed, because you argued too, or because you didn't immediately recognize what was happening.
Sometimes survival looks like finally being able to call something what it was.
I spent a long time being quiet, not because I didn't have a story, but because I was still trying to survive it, understand it, protect my little girl, and figure out what comes next.
And somewhere along the way, I started building a life again.
I'm still healing. I don't have everything figured out. But I don't want shame or fear to keep me silent anymore.
If you're questioning your own experience, I hope you know this:
You are allowed to take your pain seriously, emotional, mental, or physical. You are allowed to ask for help.
You don't have to have the perfect words, or understand everything that happened, to deserve safety and respect. My door is open.
