I Survived

You stripped me of my identity. You were my husband—someone who was supposed to protect and love me—but instead, you were the one holding the gun to my head. You had countless affairs, but the one that shattered me the most was with someone I called a friend. Someone I welcomed into my home, cared for her children, treated like a sister, and confided in with my deepest secrets.

When the truth came out, you didn’t show remorse—you made me your target. You stood over me, hurling insults, calling me a waste of life and space, breaking me down until I could barely function. The stress and pain consumed me. I lost so much weight that people thought I had cancer. I couldn’t walk five feet without passing out. My mind couldn’t process what was happening, and instead of finding a shred of decency, you doubled down. You shut down our bank accounts, became emotionally, verbally, and at times physically abusive. You lashed out because your world was crumbling, and rather than taking responsibility, you launched a years-long campaign to destroy me.

You told me I was ugly. You called me a skeleton. You said I couldn’t finish anything I started. You stole my home out from under me, took my car in the middle of the night, degraded me in front of our children. You put them in harm’s way. You drove them while drunk. And every time, it was somehow my fault.

I didn’t know the full extent of your affairs then—all I wanted was to save our family. And the more I fought to keep it together, the angrier you got, the harder you came after me. You broke me to the point where I was suicidal, and that’s exactly where you wanted me. You wanted me to disappear so you could rewrite history. You tried to strip me of my children, my home, my sanity. You wanted everyone—my family, my friends—to believe I was crazy, all so you wouldn’t have to face what you had done.

But the truth? The truth is that everything in my life revolved around my children, my family. And you tried to make me believe I was nothing. That I was unlovable. That I had failed.

You walked away from our children and gave your time, your effort, your presence to hers. You were there for her kids—taking them to school, watching their sports—while I raised ours alone. Make no mistake, I did it alone. The woman you tried to break, the one you called a waste of space, raised three incredible human beings without you.

And now, I am out of survival mode. I am finally processing everything you did. And I will no longer carry the weight of your actions. I will no longer take responsibility for the destruction you left behind. You robbed me of the mother I should have been—not because I wasn’t there, but because I was too heartbroken, too exhausted from cleaning up the mess you left in your wake.

But here’s what you never saw coming—I survived. I am still here. And I remember everything.

For over a decade, I have wondered how two people who built their foundation on betrayal and destruction could last. But that’s exactly what has kept you together—a shared history of deception, a story you had to rewrite so you could shift the blame onto those you hurt. You had to lie to yourselves so you could sleep at night. And maybe, after all these years, you even believe your own lies.

But I am done waiting for justice. I am done waiting for your downfall.

You will see me rise.

And when you do, you will know. God will know.

Because for everything you did, for all the hell you put me through, you did one thing I will forever be grateful for—you forced me to find my strength. My inner beauty. My perseverance. And that? That is something you can never take away from me.

We have three amazing children, and you deserve no credit for who they are. That is my legacy, not yours. You have no idea what love is. Because when a man can create life and then abandon it, he shows exactly who he is.

I will never again allow a man—or anyone—to treat me the way you did.

And I am not dead. I am still here. Stronger than ever.

So rewrite history all you want. Convince yourself that your betrayal had no consequences. But I will never forget. And the pain you caused? It has transformed into something powerful.

So thank you.

Because you haven’t seen anything yet.