Words can sometimes be more hurtful than blows. The constant insults, verbal degradation and emotional threats undermined my self-confidence and instilled a permanent fear. Every cutting word left an invisible scar, profoundly affecting my self-perception. Psychological manipulation was a silent but devastating weapon. Mind games, distortion of reality and control tactics were used to keep me in a state of constant confusion and uncertainty. This psychological violence destroyed my mental and emotional stability.

Today, I met 2 little girls. 5 and 7 years old. Back to school in 2nd grade and kindergarten. The little one talked to me the most. Of course, she told me about my unicorn hair, my gemstone necklaces (diamonds!), my union armband (haha!), and then my tattoos. This little girl, among other things, told me that she often cried. I replied that I did too, and that it was okay to cry. Then she told me about her daddy. Her unkind daddy... This little girl started kindergarten, her 1st school year, without coming home. Why not? Because right now, she's living in a Women's shelter with her sister and brother. I haven't been able to talk to her mom. But bravo to her. Thanks for her courage to seek help, to get out of the relationship. In doing that, she is ensuring a future for her children....and for herself. This little girl is certainly in a whirlwind of emotion, but she won't sink.

I was a victim of physical violence, acts of brutality that left visible and invisible marks. The blows, slaps and physical assaults created an atmosphere of constant terror, making me fear every moment spent at my attacker's side. A particularly traumatic aspect was the sexual violence, a profound violation of my person and dignity. This form of violence left indelible scars, affecting not only my perception of intimacy, but also my confidence in future relationships.

We have the right to be happy, we have the right to have a real smile on our face, we have the right to feel good! We're strong, we're beautiful and, above all, we're capable! We have the right to laugh, to go for walks, to shop as we please, to have our own personal belongings, to have a cell phone without constant surveillance. We have the right not to want sex, even if our partner does! WE HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO BE AFRAID IN OUR OWN HOME!

Economic violence was an insidious facet of my ordeal. Restricted access to financial resources, controlled spending and economic dependence created an additional trap, complicating any escape. Economic violence extended the chains of my captivity.

When he was angry with me in the car, he started driving fast and hard. He hit the steering wheel, he kicked the gas pedal... it was terrifying. I was always afraid that he would eventually lose control of the car and cause us to have an accident. When the kids were in the car with us, it was even worse for me... I still have nightmares about it.

Many have said to me: "stop living in the past, move on, forget it, you're hurting yourself, you're stopping yourself from moving forward, you're victimizing yourself...". I'd like to reply that that's what we want from the depths of our hearts, but every day reminds us of what we've been through: a word, a caress, a look... everything. But it's paradoxical... because for the aggressors, on the other hand, society often excuse their behaviors by saying that they had an unhappy childhood, that they were perhaps also victims of violence... See the problem ?? I think that's enough and that we, as citizens, have to do something about it.

She knew that my family didn't know about my sexual orientation. I have a very traditional family and I knew I was risking a lot to tell them. She told me that if I didn't tell them, it meant that I wasn't really a lesbian and that I was a "wannabe". She kept calling me "wannabe", even in front of our friends. It even became my nickname.. The day I left her, she called my mother and told her everything.

I want to pay tribute to all the women who work with abused women in shelters. All these women whose identity must be kept secret to protect them. So that they continue to do the colossal work in the shadows to help women who show up at the door of a shelter. All these women, anonymous to the general public, but very present with abused women. They are there as much by conviction as by vocation. They cook for us because we don't have the energy, they prepare rooms for us that mimic the comfort of a real home and they take care of our children because we are overwhelmed by the situation. They listen to us, do not judge us. They understand our pain, support us, encourage us and give us a break for a moment. They make sure that our rights are recognized by the authorities. They help us learn to love again and to make better life choices. They help us to identify violence and especially to get out of it. They help us to reclaim our lives and help us to regain our dignity and to stand on our own feet. For all this, I say thank you. To all these women, I want to pay a sincere and profound tribute.

That moment of grace, of liberation, of serenity felt when one realizes that the violence is over and that this ordeal has made us truly stronger. That moment will come, and it depends only on our determination to say no, to turn our backs, mentally and physically, on the person who dared to abuse us. The decision to leave and the legal, psychological and physical turmoil surrounding the separation sometimes make us doubt. Don't doubt. Push it out of your head and move on. The turmoil will end and peace will come. It's so worth it. A woman at peace, at last.

We were on our way to my parent's house on New Year's Eve. He didn't want to go and made that very clear to us. He drove fast and dangerously, was ranting against my family... the children were crying... 45 minutes of hell. When we got there, it took everything I had to pretend to be happy. The next year, I didn't insist on going...

Girls' night out. I finally talk about my former relationship. I understand - because of the looks of my friends - that what I'm saying is just not normal. It's unhealthy, it's horrible, they have tears in their eyes. I understand the magnitude of what I have been through. I start to cry right there in the restaurant. Later, my friend sends me the link to the SOS violence conjugale's questionnaire. It was so revealingI read the testimonials. I could have written at least half of them. That's what made me call them. Thank you. Thank you SOS violence conjugale, I was referred to gentle, empathetic, kind and so human.