You are invited to share your story on surviving personal violence — domestic violence, war/military trauma, suicide, sexual assault, parental/child separation, parental incarceration, homelessness, human trafficking, secondary trauma, substance abuse, hate crimes, etc.
READ MORE ABOUT THE HEY TRAUMA CAMPAIGN
Our Goal: At Hey Trauma, we are expanding the conversation to “What happens after trauma enters your life?” for all survivors who experience violence and those also impacted — their partners, friends, and family. Not only is a broader conversation needed, but a broader understanding surrounding the mental and physical AFTERMATH of violence in general…without shaming, blaming, invalidating, or placing the survivor on trial. We at Hey Trauma, want to destigmatize life post personal violence, increase trauma awareness, and give voice to what is often silenced, dismissed, and shamed.
All written works are 100% anonymous!
Hey Trauma, The Day We Met
~ Domestic Violence ~
It was so beautiful being in love, having found the one, getting married, moving to a new and exciting city.I had so many hopes and dreams, it was almost too good to be true; until it was.
You ripped my heart and soul out, you isolated and humiliated me, you beat me up and degraded me, I’ll never forget how You dragged me out of the apartment by my hair after you threw me to the floor and kicked me in the stomach, in front of an audience who sat and watched silently as you stripped me off my dignity. I couldn’t do anything to defend myself in the hopes you would let me back in at some point at night. No one wanted to help me fearful of your rage. You knew I had no where to go. I never felt so weak and desperate in my life.
Whenever I try to recall why I didn’t get help, its because I had never known pure evil. I always believed deep down people are good, in doing so I worsened my plight. and ended up validating your urge to abuse me and invalidate all the harm you were inflicting. I didn’t realize then how badly suppressing abuse would affect me later. I would cover up my face with makeup so no one could see the marks…But then makeup couldn’t conceal it anymore either… but If I could just convince myself it didn’t happen, then everything would be ok….is what I kept telling myself. This was the worst form of injustice that I had sentenced myself to until I realized that neither I, nor any amount of makeup can hide the fact that you will eventually kill me.
Now I’m safe and far away from you, there are still days my heart beats so fast and I get that sick feeling in my gut whenever you would come for me…..but when I remember you can’t come here, I can breathe again…I can dream again….I’m finally beginning to look like me again.