Tag: domestic violence

I no longer shrink myself to fit his version of the story.

He told me he hopes I don’t get in trouble for “lying” to the domestic violence program. In his mind, because he didn’t hit me, there was no abuse. That’s what he clings to. That’s what he throws back at me, as if the absence of bruises erases the years of damage.

But I know better now. Abuse isn’t just a fist. Abuse is the way he controlled the money, the way he isolated me, the way he made me question my own sanity until I couldn’t tell which way was up. It’s the fear that lived in my chest, the shame that kept me quiet, the constant shrinking of myself just to keep the peace.

People don’t see those wounds. They see me standing, functioning, surviving, and they think maybe it wasn’t that bad. Some even question me to my face, or worse, behind my back. But those unseen scars follow me into every part of my life. They shape the way I make decisions, the way I trust (or don’t trust), the way I still fight to believe I’m enough.

So no, I didn’t lie when I asked for help. I told the truth of my experience, even when it felt small compared to what others survived. I told the truth of years lived in survival mode. And asking for support wasn’t deceit, it was survival. It still is.

I didn’t lie to survive. 

I survived to finally tell the truth.