In my experience, when discussing your experience with an abuser, it’s common to find discrepancies between your perspective and theirs. Also, in my experience, this often occurs because the offender may struggle to take responsibility, be in denial, or have portrayed an image of how they want to be seen. Regrettably, they might never acknowledge their actions or the truth of who they are. While I'm "not a psychologist, not a psychiatrist, you aren't anything," (as I make my first quote of my abuser), my journey has equipped me with insights shaped by personal experiences that may not reflect your own experiences. I know that each experience is different and complex; however, no one is less trivial. If you have never experienced the abuse of a covert narcissist, this may not be relatable.

I have faced difficult challenges like intimidation, bullying, and taunting, which aimed to exploit my vulnerabilities. There were moments when I looked my offender in the eyes as he dismissed my pain, making me feel as though my most significant life events were trivialized. I've heard screams that shattered the quiet, pushing me to protect my spirit from the heavy burden of his words that had the intent to wound.

Have you ever felt your feelings shattered to the core by someone else's actions? Now, imagine that gut-wrenching pain inflicted repeatedly. Picture that individual looking at you with complete disregard for the damage they’ve caused. By the end of the conversation, you leave feeling as though you somehow created the problem just by daring to question their behavior or set boundaries. In your attempt to hold the abuser accountable for their actions, you are met with another round of hostility and contempt.

The tactics of control, manipulation, and fear are designed to undermine you and tear you down. You may feel calm one moment, and the next, you're engulfed in panic. Your mind struggles to process the questions thrown your way, making it challenging to gather your thoughts. But there comes a point when the relentless barrage of insults ignites a rebellion inside you. You refuse to be silenced any longer. You break free and find your voice, turning to confront your abuser. Yet, they sit there, seemingly unfazed, content in their power. You realize you have given them the armor to shield their pseudo-truth with your anguish. It's time to reclaim your narrative and refuse to accept their version of the story. You reacted. Now, your abuser will claim that you "got so mad that she threw a dish."

To make matters worse, the story will become more elaborate, "she threw that dish at me and tried to hit me," and THAT negates every single thing that your abuser did to you just moments before because you have just become the aggressor in their story. After all, you reacted once to 6 hours worth of his mistreatment. God help you if they successfully capture the moment on film. The abuser will keep that gem in their back pocket to pull out at their convenience to portray you as the hostile and aggressive instigator. That's apart of their master plan. Them to be seen as the victim, and you to be seen as the hostile oppressor. That is called reactive abuse.

It’s a heartbreaking realization to come to terms with the fact that your voice has been taken from you. The emotional and psychological toll of intimidation and manipulation is profound. It’s not about physical wounds but rather the silent agony that leaves you feeling unrecognizable, both inside and out. The fear they instilled in you, knowing your triggers and weaponizing them, creates an atmosphere where you feel completely trapped and alone.

When you stand in front of the mirror, it’s as if you’re looking at a stranger. The exhaustion runs deep, and it’s hard to comprehend how it came to this point. The lingering doubt—wondering if anyone would believe your experience—adds another layer of hurt. It’s essential to acknowledge that what you’ve gone through is real and valid. Healing begins by reclaiming your voice, allowing yourself the space to express your feelings, and seeking support from those who understand and believe you. You are not alone, and your story matters.

It’s a painful truth that comes with telling your story—the fear of disbelief looms large. The perpetrator often weaves a compelling narrative, casting themselves as the “great guy” in the eyes of others, leaving you feeling isolated and unheard. I found myself at a crossroads when I realized that if I wanted to be believed, I needed evidence. My experience as a nurse taught me that without documentation, it’s as if the events never occurred, and it prompted me to hit record as soon as possible when I felt the shift in his tone or behavior. That's the heightened and ever-present reality of living with this personality type. You never know when the monster will rear its ugly head. This is when you begin to walk each step as a tip toe. This is the hypervigilance kicking in. The constant state of alert is ever-present.

This necessity for proof can be a double-edged sword. It’s disheartening to think that seeking to expose the abuser might lead others to question your sanity—the ever-present need to keep the record button on hand while still trying to remain discreet. The oppressor's manipulation has a way of eroding your confidence, making your voice feel obsolete. After enduring consistent emotional turmoil, it’s easy to lose faith in yourself and your perceptions because the blame will always come back to fall on you (per the oppressor). It will always be your fault (per the oppressor). But it's crucial to remember that your experiences are valid, and reclaiming that narrative starts with believing in your truth—even when the world around you may not.

If you are still with me and continuing to read, thank you for listening.

How It Begins:

It is a slow fade. That is where the tricks begin with the offender; otherwise, you would have left long before. This is not an overnight show of aggression and hostility. The breakdown and stripping away of your self-worth is almost unnoticeable initially. It could be so slight and insignificant that it might present itself as a simple joke aimed at you in front of others. Then, the steps toward control grow more extensive, complex, and challenging until they crush you entirely.

In the long term, behaviors that you once would not have tolerated become your new reality. You find yourself under the offender's control without realizing you have submitted. You’ve joined the ranks of those who feel pathetic, worthless, and expendable to them. You may reach a point where you don’t even feel valuable enough to be his servant. This is when the cycle begins anew with a prospective victim undergoing their grooming process.

In the past, I couldn't have articulated what I was experiencing. I knew that I was being abused, but those blows were hidden. No one else saw the abuse, because there was no visible bruising. Covert narcissists differ from overt narcissists in that they can present themselves as humble. Their traits are more subtle which can prove to be more detrimental.

The offender's covert nature made me confused about what I was experiencing. It was difficult to explain what I was experiencing. It caused much restlessness. The journey has been filled with fragments—snippets and small portions of over a year’s worth of video, audio recordings, screenshots, documents, statements, and security footage. It’s hard to capture the full scope of everything that’s unfolded in just a few words. Until I removed myself from it, I had difficulty expressing what I had experienced. The documentation began as an effort to prove his created image versus the truth and allow others to see/hear it for themselves. The disbelief was exemplified after allowing a friend to listen for themselves, and they were in shock and astonshment at who he was behind closed doors. The words they would not have believed came from that person's mouth if they had not heard it for themselves. I have attached two audio clips to allow you to hear (as an example); although I have many, one is enough. That is why I say documentation is essential. 

Over the past year and a half, I've been trying to piece together the experiences I’ve endured. Despite my efforts to share parts of this with others, only a few have stood by me through this difficult path. It often feels like an uphill battle to convey the full extent of the pain and confusion. Those who haven’t experienced it might struggle to understand the depth of what it's been like. 

I have so much evidence of his abuse hidden in files and clouds. I even gave copies to people close to me. I knew it was a matter of time before things began to escalate. When he had started making highly irregular and concerning statements, my family and friends were led to believe my safety was at risk. He began to tell me to have all my teeth pulled. He wanted to take out a $100,000 life insurance policy on me for "burial expenses." He became enraged when I explained that my VA disability benefits would not continue if anything happened to me (referring to my demise), and he implied that I was lying. Matter of fact, why was he so focused on my death? He honestly thought that he would receive my VA benefits after my death, and he went so far as to give an example of how he felt that I was not accurate, "X's mom gets $7000 a month". Why was he so hostile? After hearing that statement, I knew he was plotting and scheming beyond what I had initially thought. Not to mention, the oddity of him choosing to get mad at me over the policy of the VA or the extremely morbid way he displayed his disliking of him not receiving my VA disability due to my death, strange indeed. At this point, I even questioned myself about what extreme circumstances he would be willing to go. He frightened me. Oh, this is the part where I get to sound insane, but remember, I documented him. Even if it were at the earliest chance, I documented as best as I could. After explaining these events to my family, they believed that it was not safe to continue to live with him anymore. There was no one I could turn to tell that could legally or legitimately do anything about it. What was I going to say? He is asking me to pull my teeth, or that he wants $100k life insurance policy.  He was a master manipulator, and if others had not heard his rage, no one would have been able to believe me.

It’s heartbreaking to recount the experiences faced and how deeply unsettling it is to be in such a situation. The warning signs were alarming, from the comments from teeth to life insurance policies, which reflect a profoundly disturbing level of manipulation, I'll-intent, and control. Feeling frightened and isolated when there’s a possible threat to your safety and well-being is entirely understandable. He evoked fear. I shared these concerns with my family and friends, as they recognized the seriousness of the situation. Feeling alone in such a vulnerable and volatile position was overwhelming.

As incredibly distressing as this all sounds, it’s alarming when someone's behavior escalates to such aggression and deceit. I had to recognize that this kind of manipulation and hostility could have a lasting impact on my emotional well-being. I was shaken by the intensity of his moments of rage. None of this was to be taken lightly. In those fits of rage, when those obscenities were being hurled, that was/is who he is. 

After his last episode of rage, I knew this was his last hooray before SHTF. He had cast out me and my son before. He had locked us out before, but things were heightened this time. The atmosphere was that of doom. I was afraid that it was all about to come to a head. I left around 1 or 2 in the morning for the final time. I have lost count of how many times he threw us out, but I knew this was the last time. He held no regard for our safety. He held no regard for anyone, only himself. He only saw what he wanted: to be a victim in his story. I later found out that he was telling people that I had left him over finances, but he could not tell the truth. The truth would tarnish their perception of him; therefore, a new lie had to be created. The world he painted was all a facade. I do not think even he knew the truth under the mountain of lies. I'm sure that others believed his story just as I had once. In the beginning, I had thought of him as a good man who had endured terrible circumstances, too.

All the signs were there. I didn't have the complete and total picture painted until I was behind closed doors and after enduring it all. I heard and saw the holes in his stories. I witnessed as he retold more elaborate stories that were told to inflate his fragile ego. The manipulation and deception came when he added the element of humility to portray himself in modesty. I saw the proof of his lies. Before witnessing his approach, I thought he was a poor guy with a run of bad luck and had been used and mistreated, rendering him a victim of circumstance. I gave complete empathy and understanding to him.  That proved to be my first and worst mistake.

He lied about how I came to leave the house. He told people I left him over finances to shift the blame off himself and his recklessness. He had been hiding $600 a month, which was never accounted for. He had so many secrets. He had so much hidden debt that I discovered by opening the mail to find out that his creditors were suing him. Everything was either behind, close to foreclosure, or in mitigation. I had been paying my share of the bills. He had hidden twice that he was not paying the mortgage. When I met him, he was two months behind. He had allowed the mortgage to slip back into foreclosure twice during the marriage. This does not include the near-foreclosure process he was already in when I met him in September 2022. When I left in December 2023, I went after putting up with every effort to maintain the stability of our finances. He told his boss he would lose the house because of me, which was invalid. His boss was kind enough to cut him a check on the spot. When I came home two months later, he had asked me to come home; he had not paid that debt back to his boss, the previous house payment had not been paid, and next payment was around the corner. I went through my savings, putting the house payment six months ahead, repaying his debt to his boss, and getting us out of the hole he dug. This was the routine, and he hated me for it. He hated me because I got it done. He covertly hated me for being strong. He hated that I had served in the military, and he had not. I was a threat to his Navy Seal story. He hated that I had some intelligence. He loved telling me, “You think you are so fxxxing smart.” “You think you are better than me.” His ego struggled, and I tried to prop him back up when he fell. But how many times? He was destructive. He would understand the consequences but put it on me to fix his destruction. The screaming, the yelling, the drinking, the lack of sexual consent, the women online, and the harassing texts and calls from other women, when was enough enough? I was exhausted. With the mental barrage of insults, the episodes of rage, and the denial of help, what was I supposed to do? When he made more sinister comments stating that he wanted life insurance policies and access to my bank account, I knew things were about to get worse. He was starting arguments now. He would find the slightest thing to twist into an argument: I figure that this is where he was probably looking to push me into an argument so he could scream obscenities in my face (only inches away as he used his chest to bump against mine). In hindsight, I am sure this is where he began his search for a replacement. I had denied him any leverage over my finances due to his recklessness with his own. I was unwilling to continue giving him more money to bail him out of his recklessness. By this time, I was so stressed. My weight had gotten out of control. My hair had begun to fall out. I did not want to get out of bed. When he was close to coming home, I would straighten up and run to hide in bed. I walked on eggshells. It was a risk to be in his company. It was safer to stay away, but it also made him angry. Nothing would make him happy when he was so miserable with himself. As C.S. Lewis wrote, "All security seemed to be taken from me; there was no solid ground beneath my feet."

He drank almost every day. He would have moments where he would not drink for a few days to prove that he did not have a problem and make sure to present the evidence to me to support the lack of an alcohol problem. When he drank, I knew that the odds of him going into a rage were highly likely. I watched as the pile of cans got bigger.

He would rarely eat. He would come home with a case of beer, drink one after the other, and chase the next with another. He would do this until nighttime and would refuse to eat. This was to allow him to get drunk faster. Food was an inconvenience because it would interfere with his buzz. After becoming wasted, then, he would finally eat. He would have the meal waiting for him to eat when he was ready. By this time, I had already gone to bed. I remember on more than one occasion the mess that he had left under and around him from eating while drunk. It was as if a three-year-old had played with his food. I witnessed him eat in this state of drunkenness. He would eat with his fingers, and he wore his food.

His lying was an obsession for him. He couldn’t stop. I had heard him lie about things that were to boost his ego. He told so many lies that even the truth would not be believable anymore. He told lies about me and my son. He constantly changed the events to give the impression that he was honorable and had to deal with a world of ungrateful people. When in fits of rage, he would scream, “Get the fxxx out of my house.” When the raging became too much, he would tell his friends and co-workers, “She left me.” How did it go from get out to I did this? This was his artwork. This is how he painted the picture of victimhood for himself. He hated that word, victimhood. This word hit too close to home for him. Using all the chaos he would create, he would flip the narrative every time. This was how he could continue to receive sympathy, being the poor guy whose wife had left him, and all he had was his dog and beer—the typical formula for self-pity.

This was not a simple case of two people not getting along. This was a man that systemically degraded me. I was where all his frustrations were funneled. Suppose you could hear the recordings; you could listen to the anger and disdain in him. The hate that came out of his mouth was too much. I had forgiven him on several occasions due to the realization that who he hated was himself. The things about me that he hated were everything about me that he wished he could have been. In a nutshell, the things that he spewed were the opposite. His belief that I was smart made him mad because he felt insecure. This is just an example. This is the part where you can’t help but pity him. I do not mean that with sarcasm. I mean it as a human being looking at the imploding mind of someone who hates himself to such an extreme that he would destroy even the people that were sent to help him.

Psychological abuse urgently needs more attention. It is an unequal power dynamic that destroys the self-worth of another human being. He knew and verbally acknowledged the intent to use that power imbalance to his advantage. When in fits of rage, they tell you who they are. His established fear was purposely used to manipulate me for his gain. He used this power dynamic to prevent my son and me from getting our personal property. He gatekept 10’s thousands of dollars of property I paid for before him. There was no splitting anything. It was hurry up and get what you can because he made his presence known every time I went there.

In a recording from security, I heard that he had told me that I could have everything I had bought and that he did not want it. He said he would give me every fork and spoon in that house if I wanted it. People were meant to hear that, but what was done was the opposite. Once again, It was an act to present the image of a lovable and kind man being mistreated or used. When I would go there, he had the uncanny ability to know. It turns out that he had set up a camera and would drive up to intimidate my son and me. Once, my son and I attempted to load the cast iron stove I had purchased. It was 288 pounds that was still in the crate. I called a family member to help us load it. Then, he came pulling up. His once hostile demeanor had switched to a cheerful, kind, caring, and smiling personality. This was the act that I had grown tired of seeing. This was the part where he performed again. This was his elaborate show for my family members. He dared not challenge or show his true colors to another man who might call him out on his aggressive behavior or hostile tones. Instead, he preferred belittling women and children.

This was his flip-flopping of character to perform in front of the attending audience. When no one was around, his intimidation tactics were in full performance. He would show up to intimidate me. He knew my anxiety in his presence was over the top by this point, and that was precisely where he wanted me. This was where his power was. He knew that I was scared of him. He knew it. After several incidences of him arriving at the house while I attempted to collect my belongings as a show of force or intimidation, my fears shifted to the possibility that he might step it up a knotch if the minor thing triggered him. I realized that his mere being there was to show hostility. It was an act of aggression. This frightened me even more that he may attempt to harm me or my son.

At this stage of the game, my son had witnessed his raging. I recall telling my son, “No matter what you hear, do not come out.” This was how we lived. On one occasion, my abuser screamed and followed me as I cried, stumbled through my words, and stuttered. I went from room to room, with him following closely behind me. When I stopped, his chest hit mine. I turned left, and my son had come through his bedroom door to check if everything was alright. The abuser began pointing and screaming at my son. I looked at my son’s face; his eyes had widened, and he was frozen. I remember wanting to protect him. I can see it all over again. I placed my foot in the doorway and chucked it against the doorframe to prevent him from passing. My left arm extended, touching the frame to prevent him from passing through and getting to him. There was panic in me, and he pressed his body over my arm and leaned farther in to get closer to my son. Like none before, the panic was all over me. I was in a mindset to protect my son. He may have torn me down, but I was not going to let him touch my son’s mind with his evil.

Going back to the attempts to collect my personal property, given what you know now, you can see how I would conclude that it was highly likely that he may harm my son or myself. I spoke to my family regarding my concerns. They voiced that they agreed that he was a threat to our safety. Ultimately, without a way to physically retrieve our belongings, with divorce already pending and the risk of harm, we were not able to recover but only a fraction of our belongings. Once again, might made right (sarcasm). The unequal power dynamics went to the strong over the powerless. 

Before separation, I felt small and stomped out when I tried to use my voice. He was always within an earshot anytime I attempted to tell anyone. He had to be by my side when I made phone calls. He would always interject himself in conversations and play the jester role with his silly and goofy persona to create the illusion that he was a safe and lovable character. The man that I saw behind closed doors was a man of duality. The man he wanted to present and the man he was. It’s the classic literary conflict of good versus evil embodied. The relationship was a constant struggle between his public persona and his genuine, abusive nature.

The condensing, mocking whimpering as I cried was “precious,” with animosity and disdain for the weakness that came with the pain that was caused. Speaking exaggeratedly, he turned his voice to belittle the tears as if, even in my agony, my existence was an inconvenience. There was something sinister in his taunts that was unfathomable that another human being could, with contempt, use “precious” to wound you further while you are in pain and fear. I wish you could hear him say it. It was pure condescending hate. There was no escaping his cruel punchlines of evil and sinister undercurrents. He imitated my cries to humiliate me further. All to belittle the fundamental expression of pain. As I would begin to speak, I would be interrupted by, "Nobody told you that you could speak." "Dumbass." "Fat ass." "All you do is sleep." There was hate in him that he could not suppress. His motive was to create fear, and it worked flawlessly. Every sarcastic remark and demeaning insult was to destroy my confidence and self-worth, and I was playing his game for him without even realizing it. Due to this, my feelings towards him were growing more fearful daily, adding another layer of complexity to the situation. 

I remind you of the point in telling you all this: to illustrate his continual tyranny. To show you that despite the picture he painted for the world to see, I saw a malevolent and sinister side of him. He intended to harm, and with that malicious intent, he hid from the outside world. I apologize for the expletives, but it is what I heard. It is the ugly and naked truth that is an inconvenience to see or hear. 

Disclaimer:  The author assumes no responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions in the content of this site. The information contained in this site is provided on an "as is" basis with no guarantees of completeness, accuracy, usefulness, or timeliness...

This is not to be used to treat or diagnose. If you need help or assistance in an emergency, call 911.

Delusions of Grandeur or Stolen Valor

This is a copy and proof of his distortion of the truth and an example of stolen valor. He stated on many occasions and, in most cases, gave very detailed accounts of his missions as a Navy Seal. He was very elaborate in describing his descent from a helicopter into the sea. Along with his fellow members of the Seal Team, he carried his weapon above his head as he reached the shore. He described a horrific scene of the deceased.

We should stop there; however, after further investigation, the national records (see above) clearly states that he never completed or was discharged immediately after (given that boot camp is 8 weeks). No discharge papers indicated that the individual never completed boot camp. This leads one to question why he fabricated such a detailed, colorful account of these terrible events, or could he be delusional? When asked in person about the inconsistencies, he explained that his service record, "They said they would make it disappear" or "must have been erased." That is not how any of that works, but he would know that if he had actually served. To verify the claim to these acts of valor being erased, a VA claims officer was questioned regarding the likelihood of the service record being blotted or deleted from the service record, per the VA claims officer, when a service member's file is opened, all the previous duty stations are listed. If the events were not documented, they never happened. The screenshots of that conversation is provided, as well.

So, what would cause an individual to make such grandiose claims? Is it mental illness, is it a lack of self-worth, personal gain (especially when desiring a deep longing for familiarity or the desire for belonging), or is this the vocalized daydreams of a little boy grown up that were never realized? Your guess is as good as mine. 

I'm certain there is an entire psychological study of why anyone would lie, but lying to this extreme is mind-boggling. The part that is of the greatest distaste and disrespect is the fact that there are service members who valiantly performed such courageous acts of valor while an imposter and fraud chose to steal their glory. It is despicable and cowardly to make such fraudulent claims of valor.

This document was acquired with the intent to obtain alcohol abuse treatment, anger management, and mental health treatment that service members receive from the Department of Veterans Affairs. Upon receipt of this letter, it was determined that this individual was not eligible for veterans' benefits. Just to let you know, the individual was notified of the attempt to obtain before obtaining. All personal information has been covered.
Although this avenue only presented a dead end, other options were explored to make honest and heartfelt attempts for medical treatment for the individual; however, if the individual refused the care, the dead end was met, again.

This text outlines serious allegations regarding an individual who falsely claimed to be a Navy SEAL, complete with detailed, fabricated accounts of military exploits that were never part of his actual service. It provides an account of how investigations into his military record revealed that he never completed boot camp, casting significant doubt on his claims. This is an example at the extreme lies that he would tell in order to perform or present an image of being a "good guy." This discussion touches on potential motivations behind such fabrications, including issues related to mental health or a desire for belonging. Additionally, it emphasizes the disrespect such actions show to those who have genuinely served and displayed courage in the line of duty. The document also notes attempts to seek mental health treatment that were thwarted due to the individual's ineligibility for veteran benefits, reiterating the complexities and challenges involved in addressing the situation.

By calling him out on his lies, I became a threat to the image that he had created. In so doing, I was a threat to the image he had created which placed me as the target. I was in his crosshairs now.

Interacting with the abuser after leaving (screenshots)

Going No Contact

One of the crucial lessons I've learned to prevent myself from falling into the same traps is this: no matter how desperately I wished for him to change or how hard I prayed, he possesses free will. After nearly two years of prayer and anointing every corner of that home, I realized I cannot strip him of his choices. There may have been fleeting moments where he pretended to change to lure me back into his grasp, but I understand now that he would never genuinely transform. He hid his true self long enough for me to drop my guard.

His threats to dump my belongings on the side of the road revealed the depth of his manipulation. When I enforced no contact, it ignited his fury. Preventing me from gaining access to my possessions was his way of reasserting control. All of this is about control. Once he had lost control, he began making efforts to get a reaction from me by stating that he was going to change the locks to prevent me from having access to my son and my belongings. The claims to put it on side of the road was to obtain a reaction, as well. Like I said, this is all about control. His demands were not only a method of punishment for my defiance but a blatant power play. He used threats of damage to my property as leverage, forcing me to comply under the specter of losing everything.

Ultimately, he maintained dominion over my personal belongings—priceless memories, essentials, and thousands of dollars worth of property were sacrificed for the sake of my safety. I lost almost everything, but I refuse to let that define me. I stand firm in my belief that God sees my loss and will one day restore what has been taken from me.

After leaving, I vividly remember the moment I hit my knees in surrender. It was a pivotal point that brought me closer to God. If being brought low is what it takes to deepen my connection with Him, then I embrace it wholeheartedly. In that humbling position, I looked up to Him with complete submission, and I understand the lesson I had to learn. Throughout all my losses, as long as I keep God in my sights, I haven't truly lost anything. The gain I have in Christ far outweighs any material loss.

I acknowledge my imperfections and the natural emotions of anger and grief, but I refuse to let them hold me back. Anger and hate does not define me even as much as it possibly could. I am not bitter. I am not mad. I am simply here to provide the truth. I recall that moment of vulnerability when I cried out to God, asserting that if this is what it takes to stay close to Him, then I willingly accept it.  It is better to be rejected by the world and stand with Christ than to stand with the world and be rejected by Christ. If enduring this earthly suffering brings me closer to my eternal truth, then I confidently choose this path. If this had not been pressed on my heart after many nights of prayer for it to be removed, I would have let it go, but my God is the spirit of truth. When my God says go to war for truth, that is exactly what I am going to do. I have heard it be said to me to give it to God for His vengeance; I say to you that God gave me marching orders. I’m no longer seeking validation from this world; my focus is on seeking His approval. I will pursue His will with determination and abandon my own. I may stumble. I may sound crazy for being this candid. I may even look like a fool, but each step brings me closer to Him. 

I could not make all these claims and expect anyone to take me serious unless I had evidence to back it up. So, I brought some receipts.

Here comes the messy parts

The security footage depicts a concerning situation involving an exchange of money between two adults, while children are unsupervised in another room. Though I won’t delve into the specifics of what may have transpired, it’s important to highlight the context provided.

A security alert was triggered, prompting an investigation into unfamiliar voices within the footage. One male voice is discernible as he speaks to a female, mentioning that he will put on shorts, followed by the sounds of footsteps moving toward the bedroom and the closing of a door. During this time, two children can be heard without adult supervision, underscoring the potential risks involved.

After time had passed with silence, the woman engaged in the conversation exhibits a speech impediment and mentions, "I will get you back your change." The young man spoken and voiced his desire to not wanting to leave. The person of interest replies by stating that it is late and they will be returning. This detail adds another layer to the situation, although there are aspects that cannot be disclosed. The nature of the encounter raises questions and invites speculation regarding the intentions behind their actions. Ultimately, I leave it to you to form your own conclusions about what occurred.

Disclaimer:  The author assumes no responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions in the content of this site. The information contained in this site is provided on an "as is" basis with no guarantees of completeness, accuracy, usefulness or timeliness.

Attempts to cause distress

WARNING!!! THERE IS USE OF FOUL LANGUAGE AND THE DISCUSION OF TOPIC MATTERS THAT ARE OFFENSIVE AND DISTURBING

PROCEED AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!!!

Without Consent

To the abuser, you may be viewed as personal property, subject to discard or replacement at their whim. I have experienced firsthand the abandonment that can occur when you fail to comply with their demands. When an abuser seeks to own you, they attempt to strip away your choices and autonomy. This perspective is fundamentally flawed and far from normal or healthy. It is essential to recognize that this mindset reflects the abuser's issues, not yours.

I had told him about the SA that happened in 2018 by my ex-bf. While married to him, I drank a little too much and passed out.  In 2018, when I had been SA by an ex-boyfriend, I had been under the influence. I vomited after that ordeal, and after that happened, I was an emotional wreck. I remained silence for many years. I confronted that person years later, and he stated, “I don’t remember that”. I had told dw about this event, so for him to repeat the event was an act of a selfish person who had no respect for the autonomy of a person over her own body. He removed my right to choose and give consent over my body that night. What was done to me, that was not love. That was evil. To take me back down that road knowing what I had been through, that was the works of a monster.

In this video, he tries to discredit the SA of 2018. Routinely, he weaponized my past trauma against me. One of the biggest concerns of a person that has been assaulted is their truth. This man was so evil that he was willing to tell me that what I went through, never happened. When he mentions "broke back", this is to discredit the fracture that happened in 2016. He continued to hurl the words, "that's a lie" in an effort to discredit me, once again. This was how he would systematically deny me the truth of what I went through. This day was different; this day, I stood up for myself. This was the last day that I lived at that address.

Side note: He knew I was recording, and actually, he was recording, too. The original video is approximately five minutes long. I still have it saved.

Screenshots that he denied