I was eighteen years old when I met him. The relationship took off fast and hard. He made me feel more special than I had ever felt in my life. I didn't know yet what coercive control was, what emotional abuse was, or what a narcissist was. I just knew that when it was good, it was so good, and when it was bad, I was scared.

He isolated me. He made small comments that made me feel like something was wrong with me. When I caught him and confronted him, he twisted it until I felt like I was the one who was crazy. And when I finally got fed up enough to try to leave, the apologies would come. The promises to change. The love bombing. And I would go back.

After enough times, I stopped telling people about the bad. I knew they wouldn't believe I was really leaving this time. I felt judged, and I felt alone.

There was one person who helped me without judgment. She never gave ultimatums. She never told me she'd only help if I promised to leave for good. She was simply there, checking on me, supporting me no matter what.

Even though I didn't believe I had it in me to leave, I started working with a professional. She helped me see what was really happening, clearly, for the first time. Together we built two plans: a long-term, quiet exit strategy, and an emergency plan, just in case.

Thank God for that emergency plan, because it's the one I ended up needing.

Nearly ten years after the relationship began, I got out. I remember the relief of finally being free, and thinking I'd never have had the strength to actually file for divorce on my own. But with support, I did. I remember believing I'd walk away with nothing, just to be free. But with support, I found the strength to demand my half.

Through that process, I found a strength and confidence I never knew I had. I learned that everything I'd believed about marriage being hard wasn't what I thought it meant. I broke the pattern. I've been happily married to my best friend for seven years now. I never thought a marriage like this was possible for me. I didn't know love like this existed, and now I know the grass really can be greener on the other side.

Almost a decade later, that same person, the one who had been my safe place without ever asking anything of me, found herself trying to leave her own emotionally abusive marriage, one that had lasted over thirty years. Her friends and family were worn thin from all the times before. She kept to herself. But I recognized every pattern. And I was able to give her the same grace she once gave me: support without conditions. It didn't matter if she went back. I was there.

I helped her find her voice. I helped her communicate clearly with her attorney, stop giving the other side ammunition, and refuse to keep playing his games. Her attorney, who had worked with her through every previous attempt, told her, "I cannot believe it. You have done everything perfectly."

That same woman told me I have a gift, and that I needed to use it to help other women.

She was right.

That's why I founded Her Side of the Story.