Tag: domestic-violence-survivor

The physical abuse didn’t happened often—and sometimes, I can’t even remember all of it clearly.

There were moments. Moments that shook me. Moments I didn’t expect. Moments that reminded me how fragile safety really is. But those moments were rare, spaced out, and easy to downplay afterward. Easy to bury under apologies or explanations. Easy to forget… until the fear came back.

Because the fear never left.

Even when he was calm, I was tense.
Even when he was kind, I was calculating every word.
Even when the house was quiet, I was holding my breath.

That’s what made this so confusing. Because on the outside, nothing looked “bad enough.” Most people would have never guess anything was wrong. They might have even envied the way he spoke so confidently, or how “put together” we seemed.

But behind closed doors, I was shrinking.

It wasn’t the kind of abuse that was constant. It wasn’t daily outbursts or obvious violence. But it was there—in the tension that never fully lifted. In the way I braced for the next unpredictable shift in mood. In the way I stopped speaking freely because I knew it will somehow be twisted against me later.

I think that’s what keeps so many of us stuck—this lie that it doesn’t “count” unless it’s obvious. Unless it’s frequent. Unless it leaves a visible mark.

But the truth is this:
Fear doesn’t lie.
Silence doesn’t mean safety.
And emotional damage is still damage—even when the rest of the world doesn’t see it.

I finally left. The door closed behind me, and with it, the lies I once told myself. This wasn’t just “marital stress” or “a difficult season.” I see it clearly now—it was control. It was manipulation. It was abuse. I don’t have all the answers yet, and the healing won’t be quick, but I’ve taken the first step. I got out. And that matters.

It doesn’t have to be constant to be real.
It doesn’t have to happen every day to break you down.
It doesn’t have to leave bruises to leave scars.

If you’re reading this and something in your chest says yes—if your body flinches at kindness or tenses in silence—I want you to know you’re not imagining it. And you’re not alone.

This isn’t the end of my story. But it is the beginning of truth.
And that matters.

You’re not alone.
If you are in a relationship where you feel isolated, controlled, or unsafe, please know there is help available. You are worthy of safety, love, and peace.

Need support? Here are some trusted resources:

• National Domestic Violence Hotline (U.S.): 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text START to 88788
  thehotline.org – 24/7 confidential chat and resources
• DomesticShelters.org – Search for local shelters and services
• Love is Respect (for younger women/teens): loveisrespect.org

Take the next right step for your healing, however small it may be. Grace meets you right where you are.

With heart and hope,
Michaela Noelle Grace
Founder of Rebuild Life with Grace
rebuildlifewithgrace.org

I treat myself to a haircut on a rare occasion. It’s not a regular splurge for me—more like a quiet act of reclaiming a little piece of myself. Something about sitting in that chair, hearing the snip of scissors, watching tired ends fall away—it feels symbolic. A fresh start. A reset.

But this time, the comment came before I even had a chance to enjoy it.

“That’s not the haircut I wanted you to get.”

Not what he wanted. Not what he liked. Not what he approved of.

In that moment, my joy shrank. My shoulders tensed. I smiled politely, but inside, I felt like I was shrinking back into a box I didn’t choose for myself.

That comment might seem small to someone else. Just an opinion, right? But when you’ve spent years trying to survive under someone else’s control, even the smallest criticisms carry weight. They’re not just about hair. They’re about autonomy. Identity. Worth.

And here’s what I’ve come to realize: I don’t need permission to show up as myself.
Not for my haircut. Not for my dreams. Not for my healing.

Rebuilding your life after emotional or physical abuse is messy, beautiful, terrifying, and holy work. There will be days when a comment like that still stings. But there will also be days when you look in the mirror, smile at your reflection, and say, “That’s exactly the haircut I wanted.”

And that matters more than anything.

So here’s to the tiny acts of courage—the haircuts, the boundaries, the quiet “no’s,” and the louder “yes, I deserve better.”

We rebuild one choice at a time.

Scripture Reflection:
“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” – Proverbs 31:25 (NIV)

Reflection Question:
What small act of courage can you choose today that reflects the woman God is helping you become?

You’re not alone.
If you are in a relationship where you feel isolated, controlled, or unsafe, please know there is help available. You are worthy of safety, love, and peace.

Need support? Here are some trusted resources:

• National Domestic Violence Hotline (U.S.): 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text START to 88788
  thehotline.org – 24/7 confidential chat and resources
• DomesticShelters.org – Search for local shelters and services
• Love is Respect (for younger women/teens): loveisrespect.org
• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – Call or text 988 for 24/7 free and confidential support for mental health, suicidal thoughts, or emotional distress
  988lifeline.org

Take the next right step for your healing, however small it may be. Grace meets you right where you are.

With heart and hope,
Michaela Noelle Grace
Founder of Rebuild Life with Grace
rebuildlifewithgrace.org

⚠️ Trigger Warning: This post discusses mental health crises. If you are in a vulnerable place, please prioritize your safety and consider reading this with support nearby or at a later time.

“Stop self-diagnosing!”

My husband harshly told my older child who was in the middle of a mental health situation that she was over-reacting and self-diagnosing. The problem was that some of her issues that she had stated were correct — and already diagnosed by a counselor that I had to sneak her out to see more than a year earlier.

Yes, sneak. In secret. In fear.

Not fear of the counselor or the truth, but fear of the reaction from the one who was supposed to be our protector. The one who believed that mental health professionals were the enemy. The one who thought anything that didn’t comply with his way of thinking was rebellion, defiance, or attention-seeking.

I believe now that he knew that our child wasn’t “over-reacting.” She wasn’t self-diagnosing as an attempt to be dramatic or manipulate.She was overwhelmed. She was trying to get the help she desperately needed, and he was denying that help.

That moment opened my eyes even more to the silent war that so many of us fight behind closed doors — especially in homes where the image matters more than the reality.

That moment taught me that being a safe place for my child mattered more than being a compliant wife.

So I sat with her. I listened. I held space when she cried. And I got her back into a counselor as soon as possible.

Here’s what I want you to know, especially if you’re in a home where emotional and psychological safety are scarce:

• You are not weak for needing help.
• You are not dramatic for having emotions.
• You are not sinful or rebellious for seeking healing.
• You are not alone.

Our children are watching how we respond — not just to their pain, but to our own. They are learning whether emotions are something to fear, to punish, or to gently tend to with compassion and truth.

I’m still rebuilding. I’m still learning to trust my instincts and listen without judgment. I’m still finding the courage to protect peace, even if it makes others uncomfortable.

But I will never again silence my child’s cry for help – no matter how old she is – to preserve someone else’s denial.

If you’re reading this and you feel stuck — maybe you’ve been told that your emotions are “too much” or that you’re just being dramatic — I want to tell you what I told my daughter:

Your feelings matter. Your voice matters. And healing is not rebellion — it’s redemption.

Let’s rebuild, together.

You’re not alone.
If you are in a relationship where you feel isolated, controlled, or unsafe, please know there is help available. You are worthy of safety, love, and peace.

Need support? Here are some trusted resources:

• National Domestic Violence Hotline (U.S.): 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text START to 88788
  thehotline.org – 24/7 confidential chat and resources
• DomesticShelters.org – Search for local shelters and services
• Love is Respect (for younger women/teens): loveisrespect.org
• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – Call or text 988 for 24/7 free and confidential support for mental health, suicidal thoughts, or emotional distress
  988lifeline.org

Take the next right step for your healing, however small it may be. Grace meets you right where you are.

With heart and hope,
Michaela Noelle Grace
Founder of Rebuild Life with Grace
rebuildlifewithgrace.org

I thought I had everything planned out.

I had carefully, quietly set things in motion. The children would be safe. I’d chosen the right day. I had even started drafting the divorce papers. It wasn’t impulsive—it was intentional, a step I knew I had to take.

The night before I was going to leave, I played every detail over in my mind. I needed strength. I needed peace. I needed safety. What I didn’t need—what I hadn’t prepared for—was for him to look at me and say:

“You’re planning to get a divorce, aren’t you?”

That question stopped everything.

My heart dropped. My thoughts scrambled. I wasn’t ready to answer—not yet. I needed my children somewhere safe. I needed a window of time, a moment longer to breathe before I had to say it out loud. But there it was.

“Yes,” I said softly, almost to myself. Just one word, but it carried the weight of years.

And just like that, the plan changed.
He said he’d fix things.
Said he’d make life better.

And for a little while, it seemed like maybe he meant it. The air cleared. The anger paused. Hope whispered again.

But then—slowly, quietly—the tension returned.
The looks. The silence. The control. The fear.

It always came back.
And deep down, I knew—it never really left.
It just learned how to wear a mask for a little while.

I tell this story not because I want sympathy, but because someone needs to know:

You are not weak for hoping things will change.
And you are not crazy for planning to leave.
You are surviving the best way you know how.

Maybe your escape plan was foiled.
Maybe you were caught off guard.
Maybe you’re still there—trying to find the courage to try again.

You are not alone.
There is still a way forward.

Takeaway

If your first plan didn’t work, that doesn’t mean you failed. It means you’re still here—still finding your way through the darkness. Abuse thrives in silence and secrecy, but healing begins the moment you speak your truth.

✨ Your safety is worth planning for again.
✨ Your voice is still yours to reclaim.
✨ Your freedom is not forgotten—it’s just waiting for its moment.

Keep going. You’re rebuilding, one brave step at a time.

You’re not alone.
If you are in a relationship where you feel isolated, controlled, or unsafe, please know there is help available. You are worthy of safety, love, and peace.

Need support? Here are some trusted resources:

• National Domestic Violence Hotline (U.S.): 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text START to 88788
  thehotline.org – 24/7 confidential chat and resources
• DomesticShelters.org – Search for local shelters and services
• Love is Respect (for younger women/teens): loveisrespect.org
• 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline – Call or text 988 for 24/7 free and confidential support for mental health, suicidal thoughts, or emotional distress
  988lifeline.org

Take the next right step for your healing, however small it may be. Grace meets you right where you are.

With heart and hope,
Michaela Noelle Grace
Founder of Rebuild Life with Grace
rebuildlifewithgrace.org

I used to think that if something wasn’t as bad as what came before, it wasn’t worth speaking up about.

As a child, I was bullied—mocked, left out, and made to feel like my voice didn’t matter. That early pain taught me something dangerous: to expect mistreatment and stay quiet. Then came a marriage that reinforced that lie in ways I didn’t know were possible.

My first (now ex) husband didn’t just hurt me emotionally—he took pleasure in it. He knew exactly how to make me feel small, how to twist my words, how to isolate me until I questioned my own sanity. And when that wasn’t enough, he didn’t hesitate to cross physical lines. He would intentionally provoke me and make me angry so he would have an excuse to hit me. I lived on edge, constantly trying to guess what version of him I’d face each day. That kind of trauma reshapes you. It redefines your sense of safety, of love, of self.

So when that marriage ended and I later found myself in another relationship that wasn’t physically abusive, I thought I was finally safe. I told myself, “This isn’t as bad as before. I should be grateful. I should be stronger.” But somewhere deep inside, a quiet voice was whispering the truth: “Just because it’s not as bad doesn’t mean it’s good. Or safe. Or loving.”

Desensitization is real. When you’ve been through deep wounds, your heart tries to protect itself. You might normalize behaviors that are still harmful—emotional manipulation, gaslighting, neglect—because your scale of “normal” has been so painfully shifted. You learn to endure instead of thrive. You become numb instead of free.

I didn’t realize how much I had minimized my pain until I heard myself say out loud, “He doesn’t hit me.” That was my bar. And it broke my heart when I realized it.

Healing taught me this: You don’t have to compare today’s pain to yesterday’s trauma to decide if it’s valid. If something is hurting you, it’s hurting you. Period. And you deserve better than “not as bad.”

You deserve respect. You deserve to feel emotionally safe. You deserve peace—not walking on eggshells. You deserve love that doesn’t come with confusion, fear, or control.

If you’ve been through something worse, I see you. I know how hard it is to believe you’re worthy of more. But friend, you are. You always have been.

Give yourself permission to feel. To grieve. To name what’s not okay—even if it’s “not as bad.” Because even mild poison is still poison, and you were made to live, not slowly die.

You’re not alone.
If you are in a relationship where you feel isolated, controlled, or unsafe, please know there is help available. You are worthy of safety, love, and peace.

Need support? Here are some trusted resources:

• National Domestic Violence Hotline (U.S.): 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text START to 88788
  thehotline.org – 24/7 confidential chat and resources
• DomesticShelters.org – Search for local shelters and services
• Love is Respect (for younger women/teens): loveisrespect.org

Take the next right step for your healing, however small it may be. Grace meets you right where you are.

With heart and hope,
Michaela Noelle Grace
Founder of Rebuild Life with Grace
rebuildlifewithgrace.org

Why I Was Afraid to Call My Uncle—and Why I Did Anyway

“I don’t want him knowing where we moved.”

We were preparing to move to a new apartment—one that was in better condition than our previous home. I had recently reconnected with my uncle, who was the closest thing I had to a parental figure in my life. However, my husband didn’t want my uncle to know where we lived. In fact, he didn’t even want me talking to him anymore.

His reasoning was that I shouldn’t be hearing the teasing my uncle generally gave me. Granted, I didn’t really like being called things like an old heifer, but I had grown up with it and had learned to brush it off. Sadly, I complied with my husband’s request and stopped calling. I silenced a relationship that once brought familiarity and warmth.

With few friends and little family connection, it was easy to isolate me. Looking back, I realize that the isolation didn’t happen all at once. It started with little things and sounded like love at first—protective, even. But over time, my world grew smaller, and the quiet control wrapped itself around me like a fog I couldn’t quite see through. What felt like caring slowly became confinement.

It was a couple of years later when I finally stood up for myself and insisted that I be allowed to call my uncle. By then, he had moved, and I got his number from what was now his ex-wife.

“You should have known this. You should have kept in touch with him,” she scolded when I first called her to ask for his number.

I didn’t have the words to explain. How do you tell someone that fear dictated your silence? That you had spent years managing someone else’s feelings while your own heart withered in the background?

I missed years with the one person who had truly cared for me during my childhood. I missed birthdays, conversations, laughter, and even his teasing—because even in that teasing, there was affection. There was memory. There was identity.

Reconnecting with him was bittersweet. He was older, and life had changed, but he welcomed me without hesitation. In that moment, I felt a small piece of myself return—something I didn’t realize had gone missing. Calling him wasn’t just a catch-up. It was a quiet act of rebellion. A step toward healing. A declaration that I was still here, still worthy of connection, and still allowed to belong to more than just one person’s control.

There’s a deep grief that comes with realizing how much was lost in the name of keeping the peace. But there’s also deep strength in reclaiming what matters to you—even if you have to start small.

If you’ve ever been made to feel like having friends or staying in touch with family was wrong, please know this: that wasn’t love. Real love doesn’t isolate. Real love lets you grow, connect, and choose your own relationships.

Healing takes time. And sometimes, it begins with something as simple—and brave—as making a phone call you were once afraid to make.

You’re not alone.
If you are in a relationship where you feel isolated, controlled, or unsafe, please know there is help available. You are worthy of safety, love, and peace.

Need support? Here are some trusted resources:

• National Domestic Violence Hotline (U.S.): 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text START to 88788
  thehotline.org – 24/7 confidential chat and resources
• DomesticShelters.org – Search for local shelters and services
• Love is Respect (for younger women/teens): loveisrespect.org

Take the next right step for your healing, however small it may be. Grace meets you right where you are.

With heart and hope,
Michaela Noelle Grace
Founder of Rebuild Life with Grace
rebuildlifewithgrace.org