For two years, I lived in the shadow of someone I believed loved me. From February 2012 to December 2014, I was in a relationship with a man who abused me — emotionally, physically, and psychologically. The abuse was unpredictable and terrifying. I clung to the hope that he would change, that the person I first met was still in there somewhere. I tried to rationalize his violence, blaming stress or myself, unable to understand how love could hurt so deeply. Shame kept me silent. I began to isolate myself from friends and family, afraid of what they would see — or worse, what they would say. I didn’t want to be judged or pitied. I was embarrassed to admit what was happening behind closed doors. I took him back more times than I can count, each time believing the promises, each time hoping it would be different. But it never was.
Everything changed on December 6, 2014. After enduring six relentless hours of emotional and physical abuse, I reached my breaking point. I left my own home barefoot and freezing, with nothing but the will to survive. I called the police and was taken to the hospital — and that call became the first step toward reclaiming my life. What followed was a year-long legal battle I was completely unprepared for, one that tested every ounce of my strength. But I kept going.
Out of the ashes of that trauma, Voice After Violence was born. This space is my testament to the fact that survival is not where the story ends — it’s where it begins. It was created to honor the resilience of survivors and to prove that there is life after abuse. There can be peace. There can be joy. And most importantly, there can be love again — starting with the love we find for ourselves.