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.

March 8, the date of my new beginning... THE best decision of my life. It's already been 5 years since I chose to listen to my little voice. The one that had long been telling me to respect myself, that happiness was waiting for me not too far away, that I deserved better than crumbs of love. On March 8, 2020, International Women's Rights Day, I took all the courage I had left and left this prison with its invisible walls. That day, I made a promise to my heart and soul that NEVER again would anyone hurt them. I was well aware that I was leaving a hell to start a nightmare, but I was ready, my survival instinct had taken over. When I took off my transparent muzzle, I discovered an unknown world and met many new people (masters, agents, TS, DPJ, prosecutors, investigators, DPCP, judges, etc.), each more competent and passionate than the last. But I also got to know our “too-gentle-lent-and-ignorant” justice system in Quebec.... One that makes it impossible for professionals to protect victims from invisible wounds. When I look back, I see fear, scars, courage, injustice, suffering, acceptance, letting go, guilt, frustration and a lot of resilience... but I also see respect, love, gentleness, freedom, gratitude and kindness galore.

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.

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.

As I write these lines, it has been three months since I left the man who made my life a living hell. I finally respected myself and chose to leave, to live a better life—my life—one filled with calm and respect. I will always remember the time when, before leaving for work, he questioned me about my plans for the day, since I was on maternity leave. I told him I wasn’t really sure, but that I might go to my parents’ place. My answer angered him deeply, and without my realizing it, he went to work with our baby’s car seat, to prevent me from leaving the house and to control me. I was devastated. How could the man who was supposed to love me do such a thing?

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.

“You have to accept it because you're a Muslim”, ‘If you don't do this, God will change your destiny’, ‘Women must be submissive to their husbands or it will fall on their children’. From small decisions to very big ones, he manipulated me by mobilizing religion. He hid his own desire to control me behind religious references and threatened me with punishment not from him but from God. Getting out of this control without losing your faith requires a lot of courage and assertion, but once you've done that, you gain power and control. Then you can live your faith the way you feel comfortable. Unfortunately, I see around me that too many women experience situations of violence based on religious/spiritual/cultural or identity arguments. Thank you for your help, -A woman who is totally liberated

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.

One evening, as he was yelling at me nonstop, I sought refuge in my bed, as if it were the only place where I could still protect myself. He followed me. Terrified, I curled up under the blankets, a pillow over my head, trying to disappear, to stop hearing, to stop existing. I ignored him, hoping it would end. But his frustration exploded. He grabbed the entire bed and flipped it over. I was thrown to the floor, buried under the furniture, completely vulnerable. In that moment, I felt shattered—physically hurt, deeply humiliated, and wounded in what little dignity I had left.

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.