a trip to hell and back

September 11th 2025

It has taken me years to actually even be able to write about this shit, admit it, accept it, not hide away from it. 

It's likely the victim impact statement...

I had to write that has triggered all of these memories. 

Tiffany had played the victim so well. I couldn't be one. I believed I was the abuser, defective and worth nothing. I was so fearful she would self harm, her cries that she'd kill herself. I was blind to the manipulation that everyone around me said was so obvious. I was scared for her mental health. I put her selfishness above my own safety and stability, this was not the first time. 

I was already broken when I met Tiffany, freshly divorced. Verbal, physical and sexual abuse is all I have ever known. My father, my ex-wife and now... Tiffany. With love, always came some form of pain and compromise. I have never been in a healthy, safe, relationship, so how was I to really know what that was suppose to feel like... or even look like?

God, I have had it all wrong. 

Tiffany threatened suicide often. She would tell me if I called the cops on her ....again, she'd kill herself before going back to jail. 

So, I tried to stay silent. I allowed her to beat me, slap me in the face, touch me painfully. She'd force me to do sexual favors and live her fantasies. Cuckhold... (not the right post to explain that, just google it) I'd fake orgasm so the sex would be over.

I buried myself below reality sinking further and further away from the truth. 

One of the worst parts of this relationship, my friends had all been subject to her physical violence. I lost most of them while I had fed them lies, was incredibly withdrawn, hesitant to share anything in fear of their rightful concerns. They likely suspected I liked the attention, the constant sex and having a partner. The feeling of belonging to someone. I was too ashamed to tell anyone the truth, the abuse was tearing me apart. 

After a few months of dating, months after she strangled my best friend at my Halloween house party, she convinced me, my friends were all the problem, and none of them cared for me. AND having any kind of boundary I tried to establish was a sign of rejection to her. There was no reasoning. I missed countless events with my friends pretending like I had forgotten, detaching from my support system, putting Tiffany first and finally detaching from myself.

 

Tiffany had completely altered my identity and perceptions of my friends. They all now saw me as selfish, aloof, flaky and uncaring. I fixated on how incredibly disappointing I was, felt like I had failed everyone who had loved me. And I believe I deserved it. This only fueled Tiffany, she wanted me isolated, out of reach from everyone who would pull me out of the neck high water she'd thrown me in over and over again. She made me feel degraded, so she could use me and feel better about herself. She wanted me to hate myself, so I couldn't hate her. My self loathing intensified as a result of her body shaming and emotional abuse. After a week-long relapse on meth, I was sober, and I started to gain weight, that is when i really feel into a deep depression from her telling me how ugly and worthless I was becoming. 

YES. I believed every one of her words. 

I blame myself for everything. She made me feel so small. When I had to move in with her for a couple of weeks, I became trained to believe I was taking up too much space, HER space, complicating her life. I was taking up her emotional energy whenever I tried to voice my concerns. She'd say to me, "if I hadn't relapsed on drugs she wouldn't have hit me. If I wouldn't have talked back to her, she wouldn't have kicked me." I remember very vividly when she would hold me down on the bed and aggressively rape me. Even when I would cry, and beg her to stop. Nothing helped. 

It was when Tiffany was locked up in Denver County on an attempted murder charge that Dezaray came into my life. She literally helped me change the way I felt  about love, in myself and what I really did deserve. Maybe instead of being angry and hateful towards her I should be ever so grateful, for her saving me from... probably death. 

I used to want to send Tiffany letters to tell her how angry I was hurt and in pain but would she have cared? No she didn't care about anything or anyone except for herself. I realize now after months and months of therapy, that the real closure I crave was legitimacy from myself and others. What I needed was to care about myself, allow myself to acknowledge the pain and all that remained. 

Nearly 2 years later I still carry the trauma in the relationship. It's been a slow and painful process. I find myself desperate for female attention. Healthy or not. I use sex with complete strangers to cover up the pain. 

I don't trust women and I struggle trusting myself. 

What I want my readers to understand! Listen up!

Not every woman is a Queen. 

Some are abusers who run self-care Instagram accounts.

The ideas, post, and stories we share on social media matter. 

I am starting to share my story anonymously but still feel isolated when I continually see queer friends romanticize about how wonderful it'd be to date and have sex with a woman.

Women by default, would instinctively respect their bodies and listen to their feelings. These seemingly harmless beliefs perpetuate violence and undermine truths. 

Individuals who have endured pain at the hands of a woman are not alone. 

Thank you to my therapist and the few friends I still have, who pulled me out of my darkness.

 

To Dezaray, who made me feel safe and loved. 

For all of you who are reading this thank you for your support. 

My inbox is always open, never forget your self worth.

With love and respect.

Your favorite Ghost Writer.