I Am Still Standing: To the Man Who Tried to Destroy Me
For years, you controlled the narrative. You built a version of events that excused your behavior, dismissed my suffering, and allowed you to walk through life without consequence. You counted on my silence, on my shame, on a world that too often looks the other way.
But I will not carry your shame anymore.
Abuse doesn’t start with violence. It starts with control—quiet, insidious, and strategic. It’s the slow dismantling of a person’s confidence, the rewriting of reality until you no longer trust your own mind. It’s the suffocating isolation, the fear of setting off an invisible tripwire, the way love is turned into a weapon.
I lived in that reality for far too long. I learned to measure my words, to make myself smaller, to bear the weight of your anger so it wouldn’t spill over onto others. I justified. I forgave. I told myself that things would change. But no one should have to beg for safety. No one should have to earn kindness.
There was nothing I could have done to change you. Because it was never about me. It was always about power.
People like you count on society’s indifference. You count on systems that fail victims, on the stigma that makes people ask, “Why didn’t you just leave?” instead of, “Why did he do this?” You count on the courts, the institutions, the endless red tape that force survivors to relive their worst nightmares just to be believed.
And for many, the system does fail. Some never make it out. Some are dragged back in by legal loopholes, by threats, by exhaustion. Some stay silent because speaking out comes with consequences.
But here I am, speaking anyway.
Because what happened to me is not unique. It is the story of so many who have been failed by a world that still does not understand the grip of abuse. It is the story of those who have been erased, discredited, dismissed.
And it is the story of those who have survived despite it all.
The difference between us is simple: He needed to break me to feel strong. I had to rebuild myself to survive.
But this isn’t just about me. This is for you—the one still questioning whether it was really “that bad.” The one who has been made to believe they are too damaged, too lost, too weak to start again.
Let me be clear: You are not what was done to you. You are not the sum of someone else’s cruelty. You are not weak for staying, and you are not broken for leaving.
You are still here. And that is proof of your strength.
I know the road ahead is long. I know the weight of what you carry. But I also know this: The person who tried to destroy you is not the one who gets to decide how your story ends.
And if they are still trying to keep your voice silent, take mine until you find your own. Because I will not stop speaking.
Not until every survivor who has been silenced finds their voice.
Not until the truth is so undeniable that the world cannot turn away.
Not until the world is forced to listen—because we are done whispering.
If You Need Help
If you are experiencing domestic violence, you are not alone. You have resources to turn to:
– Domestic Violence Hotline (WIZO): 1-800-393-904
– Hotline for Religious Women (Bat Melech): 1-800-292-333
– Psychological and Confidential Support (Eran): Call 1201 or visit (https://www.eran.org.il)
Don’t stay alone. There are people who want to help.
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