Smex Ed

In a world where women are warriors, conquerors, and goddesses, I stand tall as a survivor, ready to break the chains that once bound me. 

My journey through domestic abuse has taught me powerful lessons about spotting red flags, embracing body positivity, and igniting sensuality. 

Now, at 54, I’m on a mission to help other women embrace their bodies through their unique traumas, rise above negative self-talk, and begin a fierce journey of unapologetic living.

A Chance Encounter

Just as I felt the pieces of my life were falling into place, Phil entered the car dealership where I worked. Charming, charismatic, and seemingly understanding, he knew how to draw me in. His words were like a soothing balm, a salve for the wounds that still lingered from my past. Little did I know, these were the first signs of love bombing, a tactic often employed by those seeking to manipulate and control.

As we stood in the lobby exchanging conversations, his questions seemed invasive yet kind, skillfully coaxing me to open up and reveal my thoughts and feelings. His charm effortlessly made me feel at ease. Though I am naturally personable and open to chatting with strangers, I couldn’t help but notice that he carefully curated his responses, sharing only the tidbits that would paint him in the best light, leaving me uneasy.

As Phil’s attentiveness increased, so did my feelings of validation and worth. It was a dangerous illusion that threatened to undo all my progress in reclaiming my identity. 

Little did I know that the man who would sweep me off my feet was also the one who would drag me into a living nightmare.

During his routine deliveries, a subtle dance of flirtation began to unfold between us. It was a refreshing boost to my ego, a much-needed affirmation after the tumultuous journey of my divorce. As our interactions grew, so did my comfort level around him. When the moment arrived, I willingly shared my phone number, eager to explore this newfound connection.

Our initial phone call was marked by an undeniable awkwardness, stumbling over words and topics as we tentatively felt our way through the conversation. Yet, with each passing day, our dialogues flowed more effortlessly. However, amid the growing intimacy, a disturbing pattern emerged – Phil’s tendency to weave tales about himself, including his past relationships and heartbreaks. It was as if he sought my sympathy, an intentional ploy to draw me into his web of vulnerabilities. And true to my nature, I fell for it, playing the role of the compassionate supporter, yearning to be the one who could mend his wounds and offer solace.

My nurturing instincts, an integral part of who I am, urged me to stand by him, to be the comforting presence he seemingly required. Like a moth to a flame, I gravitated toward the idea of being the one to provide love, care, and healing. In my eagerness to help him heal, I failed to recognize the dysfunctional dynamic I was stepping into, shouldering a responsibility that was far from healthy.

Having always been a nurturer and an empath, I couldn’t resist extending a hand to those in need. It was my default reaction, a characteristic that had previously led me down the wrong path. Yet, with Phil, my struggles clouded my perspective, closing my eyes to the complexity of our intertwining emotions. At the time, his presence offered solace, a companion to share my pain, and it didn’t occur to me that this connection might not be the remedy I sought.

Phil was a constellation of qualities I craved – confident, determined, funny, and with a strong personality. Traits I felt had slipped away after my divorce. He held within him the embodiment of what I yearned to reintegrate into my life. This magnetic pull fostered an instant connection between us. By showing a genuine interest in my past, he made me feel valued, a precious treasure deserving attention. In his encouraging words, I glimpsed the promise of a heart willing to listen and understand, encouraging me to open up.

Yet, while his interest appeared genuine, I hesitated to bare my soul to someone I had just met and was caught between the desire to seize this budding connection and the fear of repeating past mistakes. I knew embracing vulnerability meant taking risks, but the stakes felt higher this time. I didn’t want my heart to become a fortress, but I couldn’t ignore the cautionary whispers in my mind.

I was walking a tightrope between my instincts and apprehensions in this dance of desires and caution. The past had taught me lessons, and while Phil seemed like a beacon of hope, I couldn’t ignore the red flags that surfaced. The path ahead was uncertain, and my heart stood at the crossroads, yearning for connection while treading cautiously through the shadows of uncertainty.

The Illusion Cracks

A master of manipulation, he possessed an uncanny ability to twist reality, sowing seeds of doubt that sprouted in my mind like invasive weeds. The confidence I once held wavered as he skillfully manipulated situations to cast shadows on my perceptions. Despite the gnawing uncertainty, an inexplicable force kept me tethered, a magnetic pull that compelled me to remain in his presence.

In hindsight, those years now appear as a series of blurred snapshots, revealing my desperate attempts to make the relationship flourish – a determination rooted in the scars of past failures. Amidst the chaos, I yearned to rewrite my narrative, to transform myself from someone who had stumbled in previous relationships into a triumphant figure, a victor in matters of the heart.

Yet, the allure of victory was eclipsed by a growing sense of unease. The once-hidden fractures in Phil’s charm had expanded into chasms of manipulation and control, leaving me trapped in a cycle of self-doubt. It was a cruel twist of fate, an emotional labyrinth that seemed impossible to escape, a puzzle where Phil’s every move was calculated to keep me off-balance.

A Heart’s Betrayal

Yes, I walked down that aisle with him, my heart brimming with hope and trepidation. I believed, perhaps foolishly, that his promises held the key to change. Countless times, he had weaved his intricate web of manipulation, ensnaring my trust with his words that cut through my doubts like a surgeon’s precision.

Every story of heartache I had ever heard echoed in my ears, a haunting refrain of those who had uttered those exact fateful words, “He will change.” The cautionary tales of shattered dreams and broken spirits stood before me, a stark reminder that my path was well-worn, fraught with illusions and false promises.

Years of shared life unfolded like a tapestry of betrayal, each thread woven with the weight of heartache and disillusionment. The fractures appeared in glimpses, like shadows creeping into the corners of our supposedly sacred bond. The strip clubs, the encounters with women of the night – a dark underbelly that my heart refused to acknowledge until it was impossible to ignore.

He offered explanations like shards of glass cutting through the fabric of our connection. “It’s not about you,” he would say, his words both chilling and hollow. His insatiable thirst for fantasies, the need to quench desires beyond the walls of our shared world, left me feeling heartbroken and invisible. I grappled with emotions ranging from sadness to fear, embarrassment to anger, and the weight of his actions gradually eroded my sense of self.

The storm within him raged as I voiced my anguish over his secret indulgences. Anger swelled like a storm, fueled by my pleas for change. The mood swings, the menacing blackouts, and the piercing screams that tore through the air became tools in his arsenal of control. His threats and tantrums were wielded with calculated precision, designed to subjugate me beneath his dominion.

His grip extended beyond emotional manipulation. He dictated how I should present myself to the world, coercing me to shed the very essence of my identity. The vibrant hues of makeup that once adorned my face were stripped away, a silent demand that I conform to his expectations. Isolation crept in like a suffocating fog, my friends fading into the background as his influence tightened its hold.

Amid this tumultuous existence, I grappled with the realization that the foundation of our love was marred by deceit and control. The promises of protection had crumbled, leaving behind a wasteland of shattered trust. I stood at a crossroads, my heart a battlefield where hope waged war against reality.

A Journey from Toxicity to Liberation

For years, the toxicity of our marriage was a heavy cloud I carried, a suffocating weight that clung to my heart. The confidence to escape eluded me, chained by a fear that whispered I wasn’t strong enough to walk away.

1996 a beacon of hope entered our lives – a son, a precious gift of pure innocence. As they placed him on my chest, an instant connection was forged between him and me, a bond that would become my source of strength.

Life’s path grew jagged in the wake of his arrival. My husband’s presence became scarce, each absence a blow to my spirit. Yet, a newfound resolve kindled within me, fueled by a fierce determination to pave a better road for my son and myself. The responsibility of nurturing a future free from turmoil became my driving force.

After enduring years of mental, emotional, and financial turmoil, the darkness escalated into a horrifying reality – physical abuse. A day etched in pain became a turning point. I summoned the courage to share my torment in my mother’s presence, a pillar of support. She offered a lifeline, urging me to pack my son’s belongings, rescuing us from the clutches of our home.

But the battle had merely shifted, not ended. The storm of harassment, humiliation, and court battles raged on. The courtroom became a battlefield, where strength was my armor and resilience my shield, all in the name of safeguarding my son’s future.

Time wore on, and eventually, he inked his signature on the divorce papers. Liberation was finally within reach, but the scars of the past still lingered. Moments of doubt lingered, tempting me to return to what was familiar, even if toxic. This is the plight many women face – the siren call of familiarity, the illusion that staying is more accessible than the tumultuous journey of leaving.

The road to independence had been arduous, paved with heartache and resilience. I learned that breaking free from the chains of toxicity demanded physical separation and a steadfast commitment to reclaiming my worth and securing a future of stability and hope. In my son’s eyes, I found the unwavering strength to stand tall, to fight against the currents that threatened to drag us under, and to emerge as a testament to the power of endurance and the boundless love of a mother.

Navigating Love in the Online Era

In the dawning days of January 2000, a decision was made to venture beyond the familiar and embrace the unknown. Online dating, a burgeoning concept in those times, beckoned as a realm of possibilities. The digital landscape was still uncharted territory, and as I scrolled through profiles of single men, one stood out like a shimmering gem, drawing me into a new chapter.

An initial message, a virtual whisper sent across the digital expanse, sparked a connection that would shape the trajectory of my life. His response arrived a day later, each word carrying the weight of anticipation and intrigue. Our dialogue, a symphony of words exchanged via email, carved a path toward a more profound understanding. The transition from screens to voices marked a new phase, bridging the virtual and tangible gap.

The momentous leap of meeting in person was met with excitement and trepidation. A restaurant, a mere stone’s throw from my dwelling, played host to our first encounter. Precautions were taken; my family and closest confidante were privy to the coordinates of my whereabouts. As we conversed over dinner, the atmosphere was imbued with undeniable ease, each sentence flowing as if we had known each other for years.

Following dinner, an invitation to a nearby establishment lured us further into the tapestry of our unfolding connection. Within its walls, time melted away as we immersed ourselves in conversation, laughter, and shared moments. An hour felt like a fleeting breath, and Craig gallantly accompanied me back to my car with a soft mention of departure. Beneath the starlit sky, our lips met in a kiss that echoed with the promise of new beginnings.

Months passed, and the fabric of our bond continued to weave itself intricately. A significant milestone arrived when he was introduced to my son, a testament to the deepening commitment that held us together. And as time flowed like a river, carving its course through the landscape of our lives, the connection solidified and grew, ultimately culminating in a celebration of love that has spanned two decades and more.

This month marks the commemoration of 22 years of matrimony. This anniversary is a testament to the fate of that initial online message, the courage to venture into uncharted waters, and the journey of two souls intertwined in a narrative of love, growth, and enduring companionship.

Healing from Toxicity to Embrace Your True Self

In the wake of numerous toxic and abusive relationships, finding true love felt like a lifeline thrown to a drowning soul. Yet, the road to healing was far from easy, a labyrinth of doubt, fear, and haunting memories that clung to my spirit like shadows.

The echoes of past pain reverberated within me, casting shadows of self-doubt that enveloped my essence. Unloved, adrift in a sea of depression and anxiety, I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back. The wounds ran deep, and with each scar came the haunting fear that the person I had chosen to trust might one day morph into another monster.

The healing process was a journey marked by time’s patient touch, each passing day chipping away at the layers of hurt and pain. Slowly, tentatively, I began to rebuild the foundations of self-trust. It was a fragile endeavor, like stitching together a tapestry that had been torn asunder.

Phil’s insidious seeds of doubt had taken root, manifesting as an insidious battle with body image. The words he had whispered, the insinuations that my body was somehow lacking, had taken residence in my psyche. For years, I concealed my body beneath layers of clothing, avoiding the spotlight and surrendering to a belief that nobody could ever truly appreciate me.

His cruel refrain that nobody would ever love or cherish me as he had became a haunting refrain. It echoed in the corners of my mind, a symphony of self-deprecation that drowned out any glimmer of self-worth. But with time, determination, and the unwavering support of my husband, a gentle reawakening began.

Gradually, like the first rays of dawn breaking through a stormy sky, I began to see myself in a new light. It was a process, a series of baby steps toward self-acceptance. The mirror, once a source of torment, transformed into a canvas where I could paint my narrative of beauty and strength.

It was time to reclaim my power, shed the shackles of imposed expectations, and embrace the embodiment of my true self. The journey was one of self-discovery, a voyage to the center of my being where the seeds of self-love had been dormant for far too long.

Past trauma’s battle scars could no longer sway my perception. With each affirmation, each declaration that I was indeed beautiful and worthy, the chains of self-doubt began to crumble. The crescendo of self-love drowned out the haunting echoes of the past. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I embraced my bodacious body with newfound confidence.

No longer would the judgments of others dictate my self-worth. The shackles of conformity were shattered. I walked tall, a testament to the resilience and the strength to rewrite my story. Nobody held the authority to dictate my choices, to mold me into someone I was not. I stood firm, a force to be reckoned with, ready to embrace life on my terms.

Ultimately, the journey from victim to victor was a symphony of self-empowerment. The melody of healing echoed with the triumphant refrain that I, and every individual, possess the power to rise above the echoes of the past and emerge as the conductor of our narratives. Through self-love, self-trust, and unwavering determination, the once-broken spirit could mend and flourish, embodying the resounding anthem “You are all you have.”

Warning Signs You Are in an Abusive Relationship 

Sometimes it’s hard to recognize that your relationship is a toxic one. Here are some red flags that can help you identify abusive behaviors.

Here are ten telltale signs to watch out for:

1. Gaslighting: If they make you doubt your sanity or worth, you have a gaslighter. Show them the exit! Gaslighting manipulates someone into questioning their sanity, memory, or reasoning powers.
2. Controlling Behavior: When they want to run the show and dictate every move, wave goodbye to them. You’re the queen of your life, after all.
3. Jealousy: A little jealousy can be cute, but an overdose is a red flag. You don’t have time for possessive partners.
4. Criticism: Constant criticism is a no-go zone. Don’t let anyone dim your shine.
5. Isolation: They build a toxic kingdom if they isolate you from your loved ones. Break free like the fierce queen you are.
6. Anger: Exploding over the tiniest things? Honey, you deserve someone who treats you like royalty, not a ticking time bomb.
7. Zero Empathy: Empathy is essential in any relationship. If the abuser doesn’t have it, they don’t deserve you.
8. The Blame Game: They mess up, yet it’s always your fault? Girl, let them play that game alone.
9. Threats: Threats and intimidation have no place in love. Show them the door to the kingdom of respect.
10. Physical Abuse Unwelcome: This one’s a glaring red flag – violence is never acceptable. Protect yourself and find the strength to leave.

Lessons Learned 

It is crucial to recognize the early signs of abuse and not dismiss them as mere quirks of an intense relationship. I have learned that love should be supportive, kind, and empowering, not controlling and harmful. Speaking about our experiences helps break the silence surrounding abuse, encouraging others to seek help and support.

My story reminds me that abuse can hide behind a façade of charm and normalcy. It is essential to remain vigilant and recognize the signs of abuse, even in seemingly perfect relationships. Moreover, I cannot stress enough the importance of seeking help and support from friends, family, and the authorities if you are trapped in an abusive situation.

To Those Who Have Struggled

To those who have faced similar struggles, remember that you are not alone. Seek support from loved ones, friends, or professionals who can guide you through the darkest moments. Surround yourself with positivity, and never hesitate to ask for help.

The road to healing may seem long and daunting, but it is worth every step. Embrace the scars as badges of courage, reminding us of our strength and resilience. As we let go of toxic influences, we make space for love, kindness, and positivity to enter our lives.

So, let us remember that our stories are not defined by the moments of pain but by the unwavering determination to find light amidst darkness. And as we embark on the journey of self-discovery, may we find solace in knowing that every chapter, even the most challenging ones, contributes to our growth and ultimate happiness. Let us move forward with hope, love, and unwavering belief in our ability to create a brighter future. 

To read more about my story, you can find it here. I also had the opportunity to speak at a Domestic Violence Gala a few years ago. To watch my speech, you can view it here.