The moment I have been dreading for the last 3 years finally happened right before quarantine hit – I saw my abuser for the first time since I left him.

I’ve been struggling in the aftermath- at first it was dealing with how people responded to the situation and beating myself up over how I responded, but now, almost 6 months later, it’s struggling to figure out how to handle it the next time I see him…because there will undoubtedly be a next time.

Here is my best attempt at explaining why situations like these are so impactful for survivors, how the language loved ones use to support them can sometimes do more harm, and how important therapy is for people living with PTSD.

THE INCIDENT:

Let’s start with how I ran into him, because I’m a nosy bitch who loves all the tea and that’s the first thing I would want to know if I were you.

It was a normal Wednesday in the office. For those of you not familiar with downtown Minneapolis, it holds a series of elevated, covered pathways affectionately called “the skyway” connecting buildings so people don’t have to face negative temps in the winter when running errands or getting lunch. In my world, the skyways are used for lunch breaks or gossip walks. So when my friend (R.) asked if I wanted to go, I said sure. We had ironically just wrapped up a conversation about R’s ex-boyfriend who is stalking her (yes, I keep telling y’all this kind of stuff is a lot more common than you think), when we rounded a corner.

And suddenly, he was there. 30 feet in front of us and headed our direction.

In the days after, I kept saying how insane it was that I recognized him so quickly, but that face haunts me day in and day out so after months of reflection, it’s not that crazy. Still, because I’ve thought other gangly brunettes were him before, I did a double take anyways. It was him. I stopped and said “WE NEED TO TURN AROUND RIGHT NOW”. R. could tell something was wrong so she spun around and we booked it for the nearest hiding place. As we walked, my hands started to shake, my body got hot, I couldn’t breathe and my knees started to get weak. She distracted me as best she could and I am so lucky to have had her there. We finally made it behind the corner and I peeked out just to be 100% certain it was really Brad. Turns out my post-abusive relationship radar for asshole men in cheap clothes is spot on.

R. sat with me for a few minutes and looked him up on LinkedIn  as I calmed down so we could figure out what the hell he was doing in the skyway. Turns out he got a new job  downtown as an Assistant VP at a major company. I thought I was safe downtown because I knew he didn’t work there. Now that was taken from me.

THE REACTION:

I made it through most of the rest of the day at work and that night let my friends distract me at my favorite bar – they truly turned a horrible day around. 

But seeing Brad triggered my PTSD and led to some very real health issues over the last few months. For the first two weeks I had a shorter attention span, was more negative, and had migraines, horrible nightmares and insomnia.

What made my initial reaction worse was that some of the people close to me unknowingly said things that were not intentional and came from not knowing what to say, but really made me feel like my reaction was not justified; instead of spending my time getting support I desperately needed, I spent it defending myself. I was very angry the first few weeks but therapy and writing out some tips for people supporting others in similar situations (see the end of this post!) really helped.  

Therapy also helped with the longer-lasting effects have been the reliving of the event and the anxiety over it happening again. Even though I don’t always feel like I need the appointments, I keep going because when things like this come up, therapy is CRITICAL. First, my therapist helped me realize that I can’t be mad at myself for turning around and booking it out of there when I saw him– that was my body’s first instinct to protect itself and was what I needed in the moment. Then it helped me plan for the next time I run into him so I feel more in control. We tried visualizing the situation and what I would do next time. Let me tell you – I thought this was a bunch of hocus pocus – but when she walked me through the event again with my eyes closed and said “you look up and think you see brad. You do a double take and it is indeed him,” my stomach sunk, my heart started pounding, and my body temp skyrocketed; it actually worked. I’ve since been working on planning how I’ll react in a variety of possible situations so I can be as prepared as possible for the next time I see him. If you look at the picture below, you can get some insight into what this thought process is like and how my initial reactions or what I want to do – the crossed out lines- aren’t always what I feel I can do given the trauma. If it weren’t for my therapist, I think I would just avoid everything and the next time I see him I would be just as discombobulated.

IN SUMMARY…

If you have a loved one going through something like this, know that it’s real and it’s not easy. And if you are going through something like this, know that having a hard time is ok. You’ll get through it. You always do. But if it takes you some time, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

TIPS FOR TALKING TO A FRIEND IN A SIMILAR SITUATION

Here are the comments I found most helpful and most hurtful. When your loved one is going through a hard time with an abusive ex, whether it be facing them in court, running into them unexpectedly, or anything else, here is some advice for framing your conversations and questions so you can best support your loved ones:

WHAT TO SAY:

• “How can I help?”
• “What do you need?”
• “I wish I was there with you.”
• “When you’re ready, I’ll help you plan what you do when you see him in the future”
  • This made me feel more empowered, like I had a say in what otherwise seemed to be a very uncontrollable situation.
• “Girl, let me buy you a beer/shot- you deserve it”
  • This one let me know that it was okay for me to wallow in it for a while. Obviously drinking every night to cope isn’t a healthy solution but this comment let me know the person understood I had a hard day.
• “I can come over tonight if you need me!”
  • My friends who said this let me know they were willing to drop everything to be there for me, but they were also giving me the option to take time for myself if I wanted it.

WHAT NOT TO SAY:

• Anything that places doubt on the victim’s story (ie. in a doubtful voice – “You really think he was there just because of you?”)
  • When I said there’s no way I saw Brad in that section of the skyway by coincidence, I was asked if I really thought he was there just for me, which made me feel like the person thought I was dramatic and self-centered. No, I’m not saying Brad was waiting for me because he knew I’d be there at that time. But the likelihood is, he was hoping to run into me. For those who are curious – there are two very clear indicators that this was not a coincidence: 
    • Firstly, that portion of the skyway has no restaurants or shops, and is a 20 min walk from his building. That’s not a casual stroll over the lunch hour. Abusers can’t let go of their victims; there is a high probability that he keeps tabs on me. It is not out of the realm of possibility that he checked my LinkedIn and knows exactly where I work.
    • Secondly, he has done this before; He took a picture outside my old apartment at midnight and posted it to Instagram with the caption: “I’m not supposed to be here”. I hadn’t told him where I lived and this was not an area he would be in for bars, restaurants, or anything else. Then, when trying to deny knowing where I lived to the judge in court, he asked what would legally happen to him if he randomly happened to have a friend living in my same “apartment complex” (how did he know it was an apartment and not a house or duplex?). 
  • Instead try: “Do you think he found you on purpose? Tell me more so I can help you figure out how to avoid him in the future.”
• “At least it’s over with now”
  • I know this is trying to put a positive spin on the first interaction being over. But every time I see him will be a shock to the system; it elicits a physical response that is based on months and months of traumatic memories (that’s what PTSD is). My mind can tell me it’s over but my body won’t let me forget -whether it’s the first time I see him or the hundredth time. So it’s never really over and never really easier and that’s what sucks. 
  • Instead try: “Maybe you can use this shitty situation to help you plan what to do if you run into him again”
• “You knew this would happen”
  • I’ve gotten this one a lot. My only comment here is: How can you ever be prepared for something when you don’t know where it will happen, when, or under what circumstances?
  • Instead try: “It had to be horrible to run into him unexpectedly. I’m sorry you’re going through this”

One thing I am constantly thinking about is how I can be a good advocate. It’s a lot of pressure I put on myself. I’ve talked about how I didn’t press charges on my abuser; That was mostly because I knew I didn’t have the evidence (he made me delete any I had), but also because I was emotionally wrecked and the system was hard to navigate. Although I still pursued a restraining order so he had some sense of responsibility and I had good reasons for not pressing charges, this left a huge feeling of betrayal and guilt in me. I still feel like any other women that come into his life are more likely to experience his abuse because he doesn’t have a conviction under his name and isn’t in prison. Even if I didn’t feel guilty, I would try to advocate for DV survivors and victims. But it’s because of this guilt that I put a lot of pressure on myself to advocate as much as possible.

Over the past few years I’ve realized I need to separate from any expectations and follow what I have dubbed- The 3 simple rules for effective advocacy (please keep in mind that I am only a toddler as far as advocates are concerned and I really have no business teaching anyone anything) :

1. Patience is a Virtue!
2. Live your Truth
3. Keep Working on Yourself

RULE ONE: PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE
Patience has always been a virtue I’ve struggled with, but working as an advocate has really opened my eyes to why this is a saying every child learns by the time they’re able to walk. Advocacy opportunities don’t come at a steady pace and as an advocate, you need to understand that NOTHING related to DV- the legal system, fundraising, even victims leaving their abusers- happens quickly or easily. It’s a lesson I should have learned a lot earlier from my own experiences but am still frustrated with. I’ve started to understand though and have taken a step back, letting these opportunities come to be and practicing being patient with others.

The hardest but most rewarding part of being an advocate for me is just being there for people in my life who are going through a similar situation. Sometimes they just want to tell someone that they have experienced abuse or want advice on what resources they can access. In these cases, I’m as virtuous with my patience as a Catholic Saint.

However, sometimes loved ones want someone to just listen to them so they know someone is aware of what is going on and they can start to face what is happening to them. I will say this right now- the only reason this has ever been a test to my patience is because- as someone who has been through what these individuals are going through and sees how much better life is on the flip side- I want to metaphorically shake them and make them leave their abuser. I would be lying if I said it still isn’t hard for me to hear details about these relationships that I know are hurting them, but, unless I am in fear for their lives, I need to let others make their own decisions about leaving. Their decisions have been taken away from them for so long… it is not my place to take the most important remaining decision from them. It can be excruciating, but my place is to empower them to make that decision. And any ounce of frustration or hurt I feel from them getting hurt as they try to make that decision is completely reversed and then some when they make that decision or any tiny step towards leaving.

RULE TWO: LIVE YOUR TRUTH

We all know this cliché, but living your truth is the best thing you can do in your life. Living my truth means being loud, cracking jokes, taking risks, doing things that make me feel independent, loving my family and friends, and talking domestic violence. Because of that, I never shy away from conversation about domestic violence; if people ask me what my passions or hobbies are, I bring it up. It is something I have pushed myself to do- not be embarrassed of my story and take control of it- because a survivor is who I am (and have always been) to my core. As a result, a lot of advocacy opportunities have kind of fallen in my lap.

Turns out you can make advocacy connections while getting a lil tipsy and loud while supporting a cause with your friends (my ultimate truth)! I met one woman this fall at a Brew fest for a community organization in North East Minneapolis. She told me about the violence-related family programs they run that I’m  now hoping to get involved with. I also was at a brewery and spoke to a woman wearing a DV shirt sitting next to me. Turns out she is the Executive Director of a DV organization in St. Paul. We’ve been meaning to connect and I’m hoping to start volunteering or simply discuss gun violence in the community (she wants to read my thesis!).

Non-stop talking about DV also led a childhood friend to reach out to me on social media and ask if I would do a speaking engagement at CLUES, an organization focused on advocacy for the Latinx community in Minneapolis. She is also a badass community advocate who now works at CLUES and thought my story could be a good addition to the awareness presentation they were giving for Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I have worked at healthcare nonprofits with large Latinx populations and have lived in Latin America so this was right up my alley. I spent a lot of time this October thinking about the impact of DV on minority communities, especially in this political climate. This was my favorite act of advocacy I’ve done to date and I am so grateful my friend reached out. I also sold anti-DV bumper stickers for NDVAM and gave the profits to CLUES to go towards DV-related projects! (I still have some left over and can donate any profits. See the details below this post if you’re interested!)

RULE THREE: KEEP WORKING ON YOURSELF

To be the best person you can be, for yourself and others, keep working on yourself. An employee at Ridgefield Recover reached out to me a few weeks ago asking me if I could help connect survivors or family/friends of survivors to addiction resources. There have been many vices while trying to recover from the experience that is Domestic Violence. There have been times where I cracked one too many beers or avoided therapy because I didn’t want to face the hard feelings that come with recovering. If you are finding yourself in that situation, even if you aren’t “addicted” or don’t want to work on yourself for your own sake…do it so you can be the best advocate possible. No matter if you’re currently struggling or not, if you’re reading this blog, you care about domestic violence and you want to help other people. Know the available resources so you can help yourself or others who are going through addiction as a result of their trauma.

Check out Ridfield Recovery’s information and resources here!!

Hopefully with these three simple rules you can keep working to become the best advocate you can be- I know I’ll still be working on it!

Talking at CLUES, Oct. 2019

$5 Advocacy Stickers! Will mail for free in the US! Still have some available.

I’ve thought a lot about Emotional Support Animals (ESAs) over the last year. Why? Well for one, there’s always a new article about a hamster or miniature horse being escorted off a plane while their owner shouts ESA status from the rooftops….but also…because I got one. Though not as exciting as a miniature horse, my pup does have the hops of a bunny on steroids. Now, because I’m as feverishly obsessed with my dog as I would assume a middle aged lady who tries to smuggle her emotional support pig onto a 747 is, I often get the following comment:

Wow you REALLY love your dog

And to them I say in my best Minnesotan accent- I SURE DO.

There’s something extra special about Unconditional love without all the bullshit of human relationships when you’ve been through something like I have. You form a bond with that animal that is irreplaceable. So to all those people who have made that comment to me, let me tell you why I SURE DO love my dog (and the concept of ESA’s!) so much.

1. I’ve always been a dog person

I had been thinking of getting a dog toward the end of last year but it wasn’t until I met an aussiedoodle (australian shepherd and poodle mix) at a brewery that I was actually serious about it. This breed was perfect: hypoallergenic (I have super bad allergies to dogs), half aussie (the breed I grew up with), cute as hell, and most importantly- NOT TINY AND YIPPEE. The day after I met that pup I picked out my girl online and arranged to meet the breeder at a truck stop in Wisconsin the next week (lol). I even had a name for her- Flick- a nickname for Felicity that I stole from a sassy, brave little girl with Down Syndrome who is always dancing that I follow on Instagram. I thought it was fitting for the positivity I wanted this pup to bring into my life, as well as the sass the breeder told me she was chock full of.

   2. I had to fight for her

Unfortunately, because of apartment restrictions, I could only get a dog if I qualified for an ESA. As a survivor, I did. But that didn’t mean the process of bringing home my puppy was as easy as picking her out.

I made an appointment with my therapist ASAP and she immediately signed off; She thought it was a great idea for me. I had been talking to her for weeks about how I focused too much on my friends’ and siblings’ relationships. I obsessed over whether or not the person they were with was right for them and I worried constantly that they would be hurt like I was. In addition to that, so many of my thoughts were focused on negative things that kept me in this cycle of replaying scenes of my abuse. I needed something positive to focus my energy on. I knew it would be hard but I also knew I was at a spot in my healing where I was capable of taking care of her and where she and I could both benefit from having each other.

Because so many people abuse the emotional support animal laws however, my landlord made it really difficult to get her. She accused me of faking my PTSD and buying my ESA approval letter off the internet. I cried and stressed over the ordeal, having to send paperwork multiple times between my landlord and therapist, having to disclose the reason for my PTSD (which is illegal), having to wait excessive amounts of time between responses from my landlord, and going above and beyond was is required by law to obtain approval for an ESA. I even got to the point where I approached a lawyer who encouraged me to submit a complaint to the state. As someone who already faced a lot of social backlash and misunderstanding as a survivor of DV, this whole process made me extremely frustrated and pissed off. But I stuck it out, said “f*ck it”, and with the help of my absolute gem of a roommate, still went to pick Flick up, hiding her in my apartment for a few weeks before the landlord gave in and accepted the paperwork. Flicky and I were free and clear! But not for long…

   3. We went through a lot together in the first few months

At first there was the normal hard stuff she helped me with- being excited to see me when I was having a hard day full of flashbacks or feeling guilty for how my relationship had also hurt those around me. Then there was the puppy-specific trials, including a polar vortex arriving in the midst of potty training from the second floor of an apartment building, coming home to diarrhea spattered across my kitchen floor (multiple times), near misses with a few too many cars, and visit after visit ($$$) to the vet to figure out why my dog seemed to have all the allergies in the world. But the hardest of all was taking care of a brand new puppy while going through health issues. I spent three days thinking there was a very high chance I wouldn’t be able to have children and then a few weeks taking care of a puppy from a couch while recovering from major abdominal surgery. Somehow that little fur ball’s cuddles got me through it all. As I like to say (almost on a weekly basis), “we all have our issues, Flicky”. We just now had someone to help each other through them.

4. She changed my life

Despite the challenges, Flick cause a HUGE level of growth in me. The biggest change at first was having to get my ass out of bed in the morning, sticking to a schedule, and spending more time outside. All of those were huge factors in changing my attitude. Since the first day, she also has kept me so incredibly busy that I haven’t had much time to replay my doubts, fears, etc. from my abusive relationship. She gave me the space I needed from all the negative, allowing me to let more positive things into my life. For example, I met one of my best friends through Flick, who one day, while outside the apartment, decided to make my friend’s slightly older, male puppy her boyfriend (surprise surprise, likes the boys just like her mama). Thank god for my dog’s flirtiness, because I honestly think this girl was sent to me from heaven. I also started doing things on my own more; I’ve gone solo camping, gone to breweries by myself and met a ton of people, and explored parts of my city I never would have otherwise. Flick allowed me to feel comfortable in my own presence and with my own thoughts again. She’s made me happy with where I’m at, right here, and right now.

So to all you folks out there who wonder how I can love my dog so much, I can say it’s because this dog honestly saved me. Not only is my perfect balance of sassy (75%) and sweet (25%), she loves me and everyone she meets unconditionally. She’s brought a light in to my life and lifted off a burden that I didn’t even know I was still carrying. Anyone with a dog knows this unconditional love, but for someone having gone through what I went through, feeling so alone, this dog was my savior.

Emotional Support Animals are truly life changing. They’re worth all the diarrhea explosions, vet bills,  and exhaustion any day, just to have those little bugs with you for as long as they can stand it. Tell your friends not to abuse the ESA law, because it makes it harder for those of us who actually have a claim to these animals to get approval for them.

P.S. I do not stan Emotional Support Lizards, Snakes, Hamsters, etc. That’s a whole bunch of baloney I tell ya! Although you can care for them, they can’t interact with you, defeating the purpose of an emotional support animal. I not only think that’s abusing the system and giving ESA owners a bad name, I think it’s a little bananas as well. But I guess whatever floats your boat…as long as it’s not taking advantage of landlords or sitting next to me on a plane.

Tired Flicky (Sept. 2019)

Baby Flicky (February 2019)

For the longest time I have wanted to write a letter to the family of my abuser. Why? Because he hasn’t been truly held accountable. The police department didn’t process my report properly, he made me delete all evidence of his abuse, and other than his required therapy by a judge, his life is normal…unaffected. I don’t think anyone around him understands what a monster he is and I just want some kind of justice. But, because I fear for myself and those around me, and my restraining order is coming to an end in June, I can’t. So I wrote it here instead. What would you say to the people who love your abuser if you could?

To The ____ Family,

I feel like my New Year’s Resolutions really started in October and are just continuing into 2019- the year of loving myself and my friends and family. I have been very focused doing that lately and it’s paid off. I finally feel like I’m channeling my energy towards people who deserve it and who give their energy back to me. For the first time in my life, I feel like my relationships with people are healthy. Obviously there is always room for improvement and no relationship is perfect, but I feel like I can now balance how much I give and how much I take. And when I don’t give too much energy to those who don’t deserve it, I have more love and energy for those who do. I’ve been told recently that I’m always smiling and that I have good energy and… a good aura (lol). I made a conscious decision last October-ish to really focus on being the light that other people are drawn to because it is always something I’ve admired in people but never felt I had the capacity to do. Then I realized life is too damn short and just decided to do it. And focusing so much of my time trying to help other people and spread that light has in turn made me the happiest I’ve ever been. I recorded a podcast with Falen from KDWB called HeartBroken with Falen, which was the coolest experience of my life! I got so much love back from that and in turn got to share some advice and knowledge that people will hopefully use someday! I’ve also been able to give advice to friends going through some really tough stuff and to family and friends living with anxiety and depression. Being able to help the people I care about, even just a little, has made me so happy. I feel like I’m finally getting back to a place where I love who I am and what I do with my energy.

But- believe it or not- there is a point to me getting preachy about happiness here… because life is not black and white. I have been so happy because of my advocacy work, spending time with friends, and focusing on myself that I think I tricked myself into thinking my PTSD was cured. Then some things happened over the last two weeks that made me realize my PTSD is alive and well. Let me tell you- I was bummed; It was super upsetting to realize I couldn’t just brush off feelings of anger that bubbled up out of literally nowhere, couldn’t stop worrying about friends’ relationships with their boyfriends, couldn’t stop myself from crying when my abusive ex was brought up in a way that was not on my terms.

I realized that being happy and being able to help others…being the friend that people seek advice from… does not necessarily mean you have it all figured out, that you’re healed from trauma, or that you don’t struggle sometimes. Life isn’t black and white; I can be happy and have PTSD.

I can be in a great mood and still have nightmares about my ex.

I can be in a great mood and still sweat immediately and profusely when I see someone who looks like him.

I can have a great time at a party and still be extremely uncomfortable when I realize one of his friends is also there.

I can go talk to said friend in a state of drunken determination because I want to face the situation and still be shaking internally as I pretend to not be affected.

Two feelings that I really didn’t associate with PTSD until this past weekend, were worry and anger. I- for some reason- thought PTSD was all about panic and my panic has decreased so much I thought I was good to go. But when I finally had time after the holidays to sit down and reflect on what I had been feeling under the surface the past week or so, I realized the worry and anger I’ve been randomly feeling is related back to my experiences with abuse and is absolutely a result of my PTSD. So let’s talk about some of these other forms that anxiety and PTSD can take on.

Worry

I did not immediately associate the kind of worry I’ve been feeling with PTSD because it has to do with my friends and their relationships. I’ve always been someone who likes to take care of other people so I thought this onslaught of worry was normal. But then I realized my worry often revolves around their relationships with boyfriends/girlfriends (I’m not just protective of my girl friends!). This realization came to me because I first noticed someone close to me wasn’t being treated fairly by his girlfriend- and I told him how I felt. I will always do that with my friends but I think with him I took it too far and brought it up one too many times because I was obsessing over it and worried he wouldn’t address it with her before it got out of control. He did and she realized it so all ended well; My intentions were good and led to positive change but I think I did push too hard.

This situation helped me realize I was worrying about aspects of my friends’ relationships that reminded me of my abuser…so situations like hearing a friend was moving quickly with their significant other, was giving a lot of energy to that person, talked about moving in with their significant other, or maybe was going through something personal and I didn’t know how their significant other was going to react/if they would be supportive. Note that not all of those things are bad. A lot of them are normal parts of relationships and their boyfriends/girlfriends haven’t given me anything to worry about. That was when I realized my PTSD is still there, it’s just under the hood.

I don’t think this will ever go away now; I will always worry about my friends. I think having seen some of the worst characteristics in a person and in a relationship, I’ve been given me a unique perspective. I will always warn them and tell them how I feel, but I now know I also need to realize as I do that that not all relationships are abusive and unhealthy. I can tell them to slow down or advise them to talk openly with their bf/gf before an issue becomes larger but then it’s in their hands. It may turn out well and it may not but they will always know how I feel. This is the hardest lesson that I am still working through because, when reality hits and I see a friend in a relationship going sideways, I don’t know if I’ll be able to leave that decision to them. I’ll probably go hunt the motherfucker down and run him out of town. But I also need to realize that people make their own decisions and not all risky decisions (in a healthy relationship) end badly. And sometimes they do, but they end in normal heartbreak- not abuse.

Anger

The anger is another thing I didn’t immediately associate with PTSD. I thought, “Nah, I’m just having a bad day. Of course I’m crabby.” But, this past week the anger has been crippling and has come in random waves, not only when I’m in a bad mood. I texted my sister the other day and said “I’m really fucking angry- I wanna anonymously send the podcast episode to Brad’s family so they know what he really did to me.” She replied by asking me what happened to make me angry or all of a sudden want to do this. I literally responded “I don’t know. Nothing happened”.

When I thought about it , I realized this anger is manifesting itself at myself and other people I’ve felt used by recently. One thing that I learned from my demon-spawn ex is that it’s not that hard to treat people with respect; I still found myself able to treat him with respect despite him treating me horribly. It’s even easier if they’re giving respect back to you. If they put in effort, give them some back. Otherwise, be honest and bow out of your friendship or relationship respectfully. It’s not that hard people! It is the most frustrating thing to see. But I’ve also been mad at myself because even after going through what I did, I gave energy and love to people this last year that didn’t earn it and didn’t deserve it. Even though at the end of the year I stopped doing that and felt so much happier, I was mad at myself for wasting so much of my energy on that after I should have learned my lesson. And I’m mad at myself now for still being mad at myself and not letting it go! Lessons come in waves y’all. It’s hard to feel powerless.  It’s hard to feel powerless when it comes to your emotions, your past actions that you can’t change, or to what other people feel. For me, writing this stuff out helps me realize when I’m being ridiculous or when my anger is unfounded.

Moral of the story is that I’m the happiest and healthiest I’ve ever been. I could list off hundreds of things that I’m grateful for on a dime. I have healthy relationships with friends and family. But I also struggle sometimes and still have PTSD. For anyone else going through something similar, my only advice is to keep on being a light for yourself and others. And accept that life isn’t black and white. Life isn’t perfect. Even if you have PTSD or have hard times, if you love yourself and others, you will get that love back tenfold and then, even when struggling, you will know you can get through it.

Everyone knows I am a big true crime fan and have listened to at least 500 episodes of true crime podcasts. But there was one episode recently that got my attention. Missing & Murdered is done by the inspiring Connie Walker, a native Canadian investigator looking into crimes of missing and murdered indigenous women in North America. The second season focuses on the sexual abuse faced by native children who were taken from their parents by the Canadian government in the 70s and given to foster families in the U.S. Christine, a woman searching for the truth about her lost sister, faced this sexual abuse for years. It was something she said in an episode, opening up about this abuse for the first time in 40-some years, that immediately made me cry upon hearing it. She said:

“When I was 12 years old…hiding under my kitchen table in the dark, you know what? I realized that nothing was going to save me from the abuse that was occurring…and so I just decided- you know what? Survive it. And then in the days to come there will come an opportunity where I can change things. And make things better. Nothing’s gonna kill me.”

I get chills even now reading it. Although she was- incomprehensibly- a child during her trauma, her mindset reminded me so much of my own during my abuse.

There is a period when you’re in an abusive relationship and don’t see any way out. The abuser has broken you down, building up to the cruelest things a person could say to another until you feel like you have no power, no hope, and that no one will want you or you deserve nothing better than your current situation. There are so many things stacked up against you on your way out the door. You may live with the person, as I did, and feel that leaving (especially in the age of social media where everyone can see what you’re up to) would be embarrassing. You may have children or a lack of money, or have been told you or your loved ones will be murdered if you try to leave.

As a survivor, I can tell you that despite feeling completely and utterly alone, there was still an overwhelming instinct to survive. To get through the day. When every ounce of hope and power and love and just plain feeling was ripped from my body and soul by my abuser, the thing that kept me going, kept me on autopilot, was this will to survive another day.

I wish I would have realized that this autopilot was my way of fighting back at the time.  I could have gained a lot of strength from the knowledge that I was fighting back in my own way, in the only way I could. I was fighting the whole time. But for me, it wasn’t until I was out of the relationship and trying to move on that I was able to clearly say to myself what Christine said to herself: “You know what? Survive it. And then in the days to come there will come an opportunity where I can change things. And make things better. Nothing’s gonna kill me.” And since the first time I said that to myself, I have made that my life’s mission. To survive so I can help others do the same.

Now, does that mean it’s easy? HELL. NO. I have nightmares all the time. I have to fight back thoughts in my head that I’m not normal or am not worthy of someone else’s love, thoughts that were put there by a cruel, heartless, miserable man. I still call my angel of a twin sister crying, asking for her to help me work through something. I still stumble in my new relationship, probably more than non-DV survivors would (thank god I have such a supportive and understanding boyfriend). I still worry what will happen if I run into my ex or he sees me out with friends or my boyfriend. Logically, I know his abuse stemmed from his cowardly nature and he wouldn’t dare confront me now that I have the power, especially now that I’m armed with a protective order. But the fear he instilled in me still sits somewhere deep down inside of me. I have to repeat Christine’s words and choose to survive the thoughts and fear on a daily basis.

But I do. Every day I do. And I decided that, even though I have to survive the PTSD and the anxiety it causes me on a daily basis, I’m not going to let it keep me from living my life. Do I want to panic when someone fake-punches me in the arm? Yep.  Do I want to avoid places I know are close to my ex’s house? Yep. But I haven’t let those thoughts keep me from living my life. Yes, I’ve had setbacks or let things get to me. I’ve yelled or cried when I feel (sometimes falsely) that people have disrespected survivors or women in general. But I also have learned that my reaction needs to be different if I want people to listen. I need to explain to people the differences that they are unaware of and I need to do the things I’m afraid of because I don’t want to just survive life. I want to thrive.

I’ve been frustrated lately seeing other people around me being held back by their past. I understand it because I’ve been there too and it’s good to a degree to let our past experiences make us question things and protect us from getting hurt. But I also don’t want my past to define my future. I want it to drive me, to make me a better person, but I absolutely refuse to let it hold me back. I’ve got too much respect for myself to let my abuser take any more from me than he already has. I could be afraid to date or to love someone, or even to simply go to my favorite restaurants and breweries in town, but why give that piece of s*** any more of my life?

So screw the surviving. I’ve been there, done that. I’m gonna focus the next few months on thriving. On taking every moment of panic or pain and turning it into fuel for change. I’m not saying I’m always going to be able to avoid the PTSD, but I’m ok with that. Nothing’s gonna kill me. So call me Megan, call me a survivor, but I’ll add another name to the list.

-Megan, Survivor & THRIVER

P.S. It is important to note here that the phrase “nothing’s gonna kill me” is a mindset I have put myself in and is more so a way of telling myself that I am not going to give up. I know many women do get murdered by their past or current partners. I worried every day my ex would kill me and there was even an instance he thought he had. This is not to minimize those instances, but is rather another way of saying “I will get through this”. It’s very important to me that anyone reading this who is a survivor or is still in an abusive relationship notes that abusers can and do take lives. Do not ignore that fact.

P.P.S. Sorry for the cheesy sign-off, I got real into my feelings there.

To get into some feelings of your own, let Gloria Gaynor turn your week around with this gem of a song. You’re welcome. 

Whoo! It’s been a busy few months. I recently graduated with my Master’s in Public Health (Hellooo Megan Sanders, MPH), and did my thesis on a very important topic to me, which I’m sure all of you can guess: domestic violence. The study focuses on whether or not a law restricting domestic abusers and those under orders for protection from accessing firearms has helped reduce domestic violence murders of women in the state of Minnesota. Feel free to read it here: Intimate Partner Femicide & Firearms in MN (Thesis Paper).

This process was not an easy one. I was looking into intimate partner femicide- women who had been murdered using firearms by their past or current intimate partners, or individuals with unrequited intimate feelings for the victims. This turned out to be much more emotionally draining than expected. Because the scope of my project focused on firearms, I had to look into the cause of death for all victims, reading through newspaper articles to understand if firearms were used in the murder (even though they may not have been identified as the exact cause of death). This meant reading case after case where (TRIGGER WARNING) men dismembered their partners’ bodies, strangled them and staged it like a suicide, or ran them over in broad daylight on a suburban street. I literally had to do my project in shifts; when I got too overwhelmed I would have to stop, text my boyfriend going on a rant about how I can’t focus on my project anymore, and call my sister asking her to please remind me why I was doing such a hard, close-to-home project.

I was also asked while finishing up my project by someone working in public health (albeit a very different field within public health), whether intimate partner femicide via firearm occurred enough in society and was a big enough issue to actually be studied. At first I was a bit offended but I realized very early on that so many people are still unaware of not only the magnitude of this issue, but the extent that it affects everyone in a community. Her question made my explanation for my thesis during my formal presentation a lot stronger. I hadn’t even really thought about it until I responded quickly back to her that any form of murder is an indicator of violence in the community, and intimate partner femicide by firearm is an indicator of domestic violence, sexism, and ease of firearm access in our community.

It also made me think about how so many people don’t understand how an intimate partner murder in someone else’s family home can affect them. Many perpetrators had traumatic situations occur in their youth or grew up in abusive households, showing there is a serious cyclical effect to domestic violence. Many of the specific perpetrators on my list also had a history of assault, sexual violence against minors, etc. Finally, many of these men also have a history of sexually transmitted diseases, psychiatric illnesses, etc. and the cost of healthcare for female victims (many of whom are on public assistance programs) is extravagant; if you don’t care about this issue for any other reason, you should care because your tax dollars are going towards damage done by the perpetrators (please note I am not blaming the women or those on public assistance who seek healthcare here). We are also seeing murder extend beyond the household. It is now estimated that over 57% of mass shootings in the US involve domestic violence; the latest school shooting in Texas partially stemmed from a boy’s anger and resentment towards a girl (one of the first to be shot) who stood up for herself and said, “leave me alone” to him after he stalked and harassed her for months. The media coverage doesn’t help persuade people that this is an issue because it blames the victims; one headline about this particular incident said something like “Girl who rejected the shooter and embarrassed him in front of class was among the first to be shot”. Placing blame on a victim of harassment and stalking distracts from the actual issue of underlying violence. Domestic violence murder and dangerous individuals’ access to firearms is absolutely a large issue that needs to be studied and I hope by focusing more of my time spreading this message, more people will realize that.

I thought it would all be done after my master’s thesis. It fucking sucked to put myself through the emotional ringer working on this stuff after having experienced it. But I realized upon finishing that I am not there yet- I’m not anywhere close to being done. Yesterday I met with the Minnesota Coalition for Battered Women (who I partnered with for my thesis), and discussed joining the Survivor’s Coalition, which aims to provide input and recommendations for domestic violence and MCBW policy changes. I have a little audition/interview of sorts to do with the group upon their next meeting, but I am excited and hopeful they will let me join them, as this group’s purpose is right up my alley!

I’m also looking for any additional volunteer opportunities or projects to contribute to, and perhaps a job relating to DV as well- so Readers, if you hear of anything, please let me know!

There have been so many times over the past year that I have wished for a dating guide for us survivors of domestic violence. I’ve especially wished for one the last few months. I don’t actually think a universal guide could actually exist, because everyone’s experience with DV is different, but I have kept finding myself thinking back on my abusive relationship while dating new people. There are two reasons this happens:

The first is the obvious- PTSD. It happens out of nowhere, the most common trigger being a hand placed anywhere near the front of my neck. I also get a quick shot of panic in the few seconds after teasing the guy I’m seeing in any way or making a joke having to do with a sexual innuendo; these types of jokes would set off my ex, so as soon as they come out of my very unfiltered mouth, I panic. I’ve gotten relatively good at handling these moments by acknowledging that they’re happening and then telling myself that the situation I’m in is nothing like the situation I was in with my ex. Having said that, there are nights where I get a bit more worked up and either have stress dreams all night or have to take an anti-anxiety pill to stop the panic from growing.

Despite the pain and stress the PTSD causes, I’ve also started to count these moments as blessings because I’m slowly learning that the man I’m dating is nothing like my abuser and that abuse is not what I should expect; it is NOT the norm. Every time my guy laughs at my jokes or teasing, every time he listens to my opinions happily (even when he doesn’t agree with them), every time he compliments me for something fundamentally me that my ex had made me feel bad about, a little piece of the trauma breaks away. I know my worth without another person, but replacing terrible, traumatic memories with new, happy ones is healing in a different sort of way. These good moments have made me see how I should have been treated this whole time.

I was a great person and girlfriend all along and it was only my abuser who couldn’t see that because of his own issues.

Having said that, it’s also because of these new special moments that I am experiencing a whole new level of anger. Whenever I am treated with respect, or listened to, or have freedoms that I didn’t have before, I get a surge of relief but also deep, deep anger. It was unfair that I was deprived of this for a year and a half of my life. A long year and a half. And to be honest, I don’t know how to handle this one yet. I listen to true crime podcasts nonstop and I always hear about people forgiving the murderers of their children or the rapists and attackers of their friends. For a while, this bothered me to my core because I, too, wanted to have that strength. But while I do feel pity for my abuser and understand that he has something seriously wrong with him, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him. He knew what he was doing and yet he kept doing it, over and over and over again. And guess what?

I already forgave him. I forgave him once, twice…literally hundreds of times. And let me tell you- THAT was hard. I don’t owe him one more ounce of my forgiveness.

Maybe someday I’ll feel the need to do it for myself but for right now I’m allowed to be angry. Maybe I just need to acknowledge it like I do with the PTSD flashbacks. For now I’m just going to keep letting love into my life until it blocks out all that anger and he becomes nothing but a deep memory I spit at on very rare occasions.

Freedom is something you don’t fully understand until it’s taken away from you. Living in an abusive relationship was like carrying around my own jail cell everywhere I went. There were the obvious, commonly discussed restrictions to my freedom- not being able to spend as much time with family or friends as I’d like, not being able to attend events at school, etc.- but I was also restricted on deeper levels. The things I wasn’t allowed to do included not being able to call my siblings first, not being allowed to be on birth control (a common restriction among abusers), not being allowed to admire a trait in anyone (man or woman) that my abuser did not possess, not being able to listen to podcasts or do crosswords because I may get even smarter than him, and not listen to any music he didn’t like or approve of.

If I did any of these things, it would result in me being yelled at for hours and being kept awake because the terrible awful thing I had done was bothering him so much he couldn’t sleep…and if he couldn’t then I couldn’t. After I had been verbally abused, it would ultimately result in me being hit or choked or kicked. It got to be a pattern- I would do something I wasn’t allowed to do, would get yelled at for hours, and then would eventually be physically attacked.

It got to the point where I looked forward to being physically abused because that at least meant the constant berating was over and perhaps there would be a few hours of peace where he was apologizing and I was “free” from the abuse.

But the reality is that I wasn’t free. Even during that “grace period” I was still filtering my actions, words, and thoughts through his eyes. I was trapped all day, every day. I second guessed everything I did or said, whether he was around or not; all I could think about was what I could possibly be doing wrong and how my abuser would react to my every move.

For a year and a half, I lived in this world of constant fear and restrictions. After I was free of him, it took me months to unlearn everything he had forced into me during that time. To this day, small things will happen where I’ll get scared I did something wrong and have a physical reaction of fear. Over Thanksgiving my dad spilled some champagne and said, “Damn! I just wasted half that bottle,” and I froze. During my relationship, if I opened packaging on food wrong or spilled a beer, my abuser would let it ruin the entire night; he would complain about wasting money and yell about how I never thought things through before doing them. When my dad spilled, I didn’t come back to reality until 20 seconds later he teased me about zoning out. It felt like I had blacked out and took me half an hour afterwards to calm down and remind myself I was in a safe place.

Although I still fight with this PTSD daily, I have been extraordinarily grateful. In a month, I will reach my one year of freedom mark. I celebrate the small things like being able to go on a run when I want, wear what I want, or put on makeup if I feel like it. I celebrate being able to call my sister and ask her for advice, spend money how I want, and play guitar again. I also have been grateful for the big things. I have started to stand up for causes I believe in, such as women’s rights, and have spent the last month traveling across Thailand and India, which I never would have been allowed to do last year.

I am especially grateful for this trip to Thailand and India because it has taught me three of the most important things about freedom I have learned so far.

1. Firstly, there is still a lot of work to do to get women equal rights in every single country. I’m sure people wonder why I’m so passionate about women’s rights and why I get so upset when I feel they are being denied; it’s because I know firsthand how women are taken advantage of due to the outdated and oppressive societal norms and roles they are forced by men to abide by… norms and roles that are euphemistically mislabeled and discarded as “cultural” or “traditional”.
2. Secondly, it taught me a lot about what freedom means to me as an individual. The kind of freedom I most value is my inner freedom- the ability to think and feel what I want and to feel happy and proud of who I am.
3. Thirdly, it taught me that my newfound freedom is something I will never surrender.

These last two lessons were not learned the easy way; someone on my trip spoke to me in a way that was very similar to what I experienced daily in my abusive relationship. I am always open to criticism and if a flaw is pointed out to me I will apologize and do my best to fix it. However, this person took criticism too far and not only publicly embarrassed me, but talked down to me in a truly demeaning manner. Being talked to like that, especially in front of other people, was unbelievingly triggering for me. I felt the same heat wave of panic come over my body that I used to feel when verbally attacked by my abuser and later spiraled into the familiar dark battle within myself where I tell myself what he said is true, I’m not a good person, and don’t deserve anything good. I spent the next few days struggling with my thoughts and beating myself up over whether I am the things/names I was called or not, despite knowing I’m not. Most of all, I struggled with how this person was not confronted about what they did and was angry that they never apologized. It was all too familiar. It felt like I was back in that mental cage, beating myself up constantly over the words and actions of another person. When I told my sister I was struggling with myself after I had finally become so proud of who I was, she replied “don’t let anyone take that from you”. Those words helped me realize that I can be more aware of my faults and I can take criticism and move forward, but I know what I am and what I’m not. I will not let another’s words or treatment of me take away my inner peace.

What I have learned from this experience is that you can never truly be free from people who treat you poorly; it’s an inevitable part of life. And the person won’t always get punishment or apologize for the ways they’ve hurt you. Oftentimes no one will ask how you’re doing after the fact. No onlooker will confront them or people will pretend it never happened. I have struggled with this refusal of onlookers to stand up since I was first embarrassed in public by my ex. I know I can’t blame someone who has never been through what I have been through or whose own story I am not aware of. I don’t know what they’ve been through or what they’re afraid of. If there is one change I can make, however, it’s that after reading this blog, I hope every one of my readers would try to place themselves in a victim’s shoes and help whenever and however they can (as long as their life isn’t in imminent danger). You have no idea how much it can mean to someone to be the person who stands up when they are being attacked in public, when they feel isolated and alone despite being surrounded by people.

About a month and a half ago, my sister called me telling me she had just seen a waitress being yelled at inappropriately by a male customer. She later approached this waitress and asked if she was alright, to which the girl replied (while crying) that the situation was extra difficult for her because her boyfriend had been so mean to her lately. I don’t know if I would have thought to go after her in that moment, even after everything I’ve been through, but my sister did. I’m sure partly because of what she’d experienced with my situation. And I’m sure she made more of an impact on that girl than she would ever admit to. I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of another human in my life as I was of my sister in that moment. We could all learn a bit from her.

Through this whole process of dealing with the pain this person caused me and trying to understand others’ actions in situations like these, I’ve come to understand that everyone does the best they know how; that’s not saying people can’t improve in the future and take a stand the next time around, but the true blame lies with no one but the person who did something wrong. Furthermore, I’ve realized that even if the bully/abuser was confronted or punished, it wouldn’t mean they understood the consequences of their actions. Punishment or not, I would still have to deal with the pain their actions caused within myself and I would still have to find the mental fortitude to claim my freedom and be confident in who I am, something no act of retribution can do.

It’s a process and I am taking my lessons as they come, whether they be easy or difficult. Despite the anger and hurt caused by this incident, it helped remind me I can always improve myself and how I react to certain situations, and made me realize that I have more of a role in claiming my inner freedom and happiness than I previously thought.

As a result, I have resolved myself from this point forward to take joy in in all the moments I have, whether good or bad, because I have them. I am free. So many victims of domestic violence can’t say that.

So I will listen to that song on the radio, spend extra money on that favorite food I’m craving, and visit my family whenever I want. I will work on myself and my flaws to become a better person while refusing to be treated poorly. I will claim my freedom and I will revel in it.

Photo by Nicholas Quam