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.

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.

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.

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.

I had been in a shelter for 5 days and when I came back my ex had given my little dog away, at least that's what he told me. I later learned from my son, who is now an adult, that this was not the real story. my ex forced my teenaged son to bring my dog in the car and after driving for a while, he ordered son to open the door and abandon my helpless little puppy on the side of the road ? When my son told me the story he was crying with guilt as he apologized . Obviously I reassured him that he had no choice but to obey his father and that he didn't have to live with guilt or regrets that it wasn't his fault.? Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

For years, whenever I talked about breaking up, he threatened to fight me for custody of our kids. I was so afraid that he would be alone with them for long periods of time. He was verbally abusive and sometimes physically abusive to them as well. So, I chose to stay as long as I felt my children were too vulnerable... and even then, when I finally left (my children were then 15 and 17), he fought for years for custody, and it cost me a fortune in legal and expert fees. He kept taking me back to court. Eventually, it ended because my youngest turned 18. The «legal» violence after the separation was as difficult to live with, if not more so, than the violent situation itself. That being said... I am glad I did it because I needed to let my kids know to always fight to keep your head up, that is what I did and I am proud.

I had the courage to leave the day he strangled my dog. I stepped in and told him to leave or I would call the police. Even now my dog is still marked by this person.

While we were together, if I disciplined our child, he would intervene over me to say things like «don't listen to her, she doesn't know what she's talking about». After our separation, he would tell him about our fights and denigrate me to my son. As a result, it was my son himself who told the social worker and other professionals (including a judge) that I was unreliable and that I didn't know how to take care of him...