When I was 20, I met this guy who I thought was everything. We got married two years later, and I thought we had a perfect marriage, with only a few speed bumps.

It took me walking away from the situation to realize just how toxic the relationship was.

I never went anywhere alone: the grocery store, a friend’s house, or even to see my parents. I wasn’t allowed to go back to school, because he had a good job. It would have been a “waste of money” for me to finish my degree. He never hit me physically, but he hit me emotionally and mentally. If a fight got physical, it was at the expense of the bathroom door or a window. I always thought that as long as he kept his hands off me, everything was okay. He came from a verbally abusive family, and I got sucked right in. I was verbally abused by everyone, even the kids.

It wasn’t until I couldn’t make excuses for the broken windows anymore that I realized that I couldn’t do it any longer. I started having panic attacks every time I was home. I started drinking all the time to be able to face him. I would lock myself in the bathroom or closet just to have the door kicked down and get yelled at for “being a crazy person.”

When it finally ended, and I looked back, I realized the damage that had been done. The damage that still haunts me today. I had to take up a hobby to help me cope with the anxiety, and I chose nail art. Now, four years later, I’m a recovering alcoholic. I also had a friend steer me towards Jamberry. I was able to take my love of nail art, and turn it into a business — a business that picked me up off the ground and helped me regain my confidence, pay my bills, and give me a sense of freedom… something I haven’t had in a long time.

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I grew up in a house with Domestic Violence – it is not just physical. In my home it was emotional violence, controlling, and sexual abuse.

From the outside it looked like a loving home with nice vehicles and everything we would need to live a happy life.

My mom worked for him at his small business. He owned the roof over our heads as well as the income that my mom received from her job at his business. He controlled how much money she could spend on groceries/household items and here was a lot of manipulation.

He is also the person who sexually abused me from 8-16. There was physical violence as well, from his children directed at me to hurt my mother – and he did nothing to stop it. I recall locking myself in the bathroom many times to get away from the attacks. As a child I felt that if I told my mom and she left, it would mean she had no income as she would lose her job, and that we would homeless with no place to live so I remained silent even though I knew it was wrong.

I will never forget Boxing Day (Dec. 26), 1997 when I went to my mom’s for our Christmas celebration – she had half the house packed – she finally had enough and was leaving. I have never been so proud of her as I was that day. It would still be a few months before I told her what had happened to me (she honestly had no idea). I went to the police and he was arrested for historic child sexual abuse. My court case ended in a guilty verdict, although no jail time was ever served. Our story has a positive outcome, but so many do not.
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I met my daughter’s dad when I was 25. I fell head over heels instantly. The first sign of trouble was when he would want prior approval when I went out with friends. If he hadn’t met them before or he hadn’t heard me speak of them before then I wasn’t “allowed” to go out with them.

The third time that I caught him cheating on me I packed his things for him to move out. Obviously this did not go over well. My daughter was 9 months old at the time. When he came in to see his bags had been packed he tried to sweet talk his way out of the situation. At this point, however, I had decided I wasn’t going to raise my daughter in an environment that lead her to believe this type of treatment was acceptable. He became violent and threatened to kill me if I left the house.

When a friend happened to call that night, I used the “distress code” she and I had created for me to use if I was ever in an unsafe situation.

Over the phone I asked if she could borrow her crock pot and her mom’s recipe for spaghetti sauce. This was our distress code to show I needed immediate help. My friend called for police who showed up at my house pretending to solicit donations for the department, and I was able to leave the house with my daughter.

I now have a restraining order against my abuser, but he still has visitation rights with my daughter, and I worry each time they are together. I will forever and always be indebted to my friend who called that night and still call her my savior to this day.
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I first met my abuser at work. He was quite flirty with me and would pay me compliments. I was flattered. Over the weeks we became good friends and would often laugh and joke together. One evening we went out with friends and I realised he was interested in me as more than a friend. I was a young student living far from home and his attention felt good. Our relationship moved on quickly but after a relatively short time, looking back, the signs were there.

He began to get jealous of any men who smiled at me, talked to me or even looked at me. Looking back, I should have ended things because he would accuse me of not taking the relationship seriously. I felt I couldn’t break things off because I didn’t want my family to think that I had ended a previous long term relationship for a mere fling. Besides, I wanted to show that I had a good moral compass. I stuck with the relationship but things got worse and then I fell pregnant. I believed I should stay with the baby’s father and I didn’t want my child to be the victim of a broken home and I certainly didn’t want to look a failure. I became convinced that I could fix any problems that we had and convinced myself that his controlling behaviour wasn’t his fault but was as a result the way he was brought up.

However, as I learnt to my cost, I couldn’t fix things. There was no excuse for his controlling behaviour and things continued to get worse until he decided that I should leave our home. By now I had two children and he and his family spat at me as I left (without my children).

I was distraught but thankfully help came from an unexpected quarter.

A new friend, told me quite clearly that the kind of behaviour I was being subjected to was simply unacceptable and was extremely unhealthy. He was the person who helped to lift the scales from my eyes regarding what was happening in my relationship and was the catalyst who helped me to move on both mentally and physically and to seek professional help and support. Since that time I have worked hard to be an advocate for women in coercive and controlling relationships and last year published my novel ‘Isolation Junction’- a fictional story based on the real life facts surrounding coercive control. I am now happily married with three children and live in the U.K., and I am a Jamberry consultant.
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In 2003 I met a man that I thought was the man of my dreams. He was handsome and charming and he was interested in me. Everything started out great. He bought me gifts like jewelry and clothing. He was always wanting to be with me. I felt loved and needed and wanted for the first time in my life.

About 6 months into our relationship I noticed that he had started to change. Money started to become missing from my bank account. Some of my more expensive belongings were missing too. Then I caught him doing drugs. At this point, I thought I could “fix” him. But then he started to become violent – forcing me to do drugs and other terrible things. I was in a living hell for three years. Every day I woke up wondering if this was my last.

On Christmas day 2006 I was literally at rock bottom. My sister called me and said I needed to get out of there. No one knew what was going on because I hid it all very well. I was ashamed for anyone to know. I knew I had to get out, but was afraid he’d kill me. He came out of the bathroom and passed out cold on the bed. It was now or never. I quickly got together what I could and threw it in my car. When he saw I was leaving, he tried to hurt me, but I screamed at the top of my lungs “GET OFF ME”. I’d never stood up to him before.

On Christmas Day 2006, I got my life back. It wasn’t an easy road. I went through a pretty bad depression. I slept off and on for about a month before I looked for a job. But I did it, I got back on my feet and lived! One year to the day December 25, 2007, I got engaged to my now husband. I still have bad days, I have flash backs and nightmares, but he is there for me and I love him to pieces.  My heart is now full of love and hope.

I want to help women who are there or have been where I’ve been. I want to be a light to let people know there is hope and that they can be fearless!

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