The only number I remembered was my ex’s. He was the only person I trusted.
I had been unconscious, and when I came to, it was surreal. I couldn’t tell if I was waking up into reality or waking up into a dream. Things were very foggy, they were coming in and out of my vision until I saw this guy lying there, and that’s when I realized something bad had happened. I didn’t know him. I didn’t have a clue.
I began to see the bruises that were forming on me, and realized that I couldn’t swallow.
I was scared. I was scared for my life.
I didn’t want anyone to know that anything bad had happened to me. I didn’t want anyone to see me in a vulnerable position. I had to push past shame and guilt to be able to actually tell someone. I called my ex-husband and he called me a cab.
I made the decision to tell in split seconds, because I wanted to be safe.
I wanted to get out of there alive.
Telling someone else about what had happened made me realize that it’s all right to ask for help. I learned that it’s OK to be vulnerable.
It doesn’t make me a weak woman. It actually makes me more empowered.