By Michelle Coleman
I want to start with a truth I wish someone had told me years ago: You are worthy. You are loved. You matter. Your voice matters. For a long time, I believed the opposite, that I somehow deserved the abuse I endured. My abuser even asked me once, “What did you do to deserve this treatment?” And I believed him.
The signs were always there. The first time he choked me, I should have left. My feet dangled off the floor, my neck was in his hands — yet I stayed. I told myself that my love, attention and generosity could fix him. I was wrong.
SILENCE ONLY PROTECTED HIM
Our relationship began when we were young and continued into adulthood, filled with promises that never became reality. Even before marriage, though we both had relationships prior to marriage, the accusations, jealousy and violence already had started. Still, I convinced myself that marriage, and especially having a child, might change him. He always said he wanted someone in the house who looked like him, and when I became pregnant, I believed that would finally bring peace. For a while, things did calm down. However, the cycle of abuse always returned — more brutal each time.
There were guns pressed to my head, beatings from which I shielded my infant and nights I ran barefoot into the street for safety. I endured being thrown downstairs, punched and berated until I questioned my own worth. Often, I told no one. I didn’t call the police because I feared the consequences of speaking out. Silence, I thought, was safer. But silence never protected me — it only protected him.
ESCALATING ABUSE
Years passed. I built a career in the military and later as a nurse, but no matter how hard I worked, my accomplishments were met with resentment. He grew angrier as I became stronger. Arguments about money, children and even Valentine’s Day gifts erupted into violence. He told me a wife should never call the police on her husband. And so, I kept quiet, hoping therapy, marriage counseling or sheer willpower could heal what was broken. It couldn’t.
The abuse escalated until one night he tackled me so violently he broke my ribs. Another time, he stormed into my home with guns, telling me I would die that day. My children screamed as I fought for my life. When the police finally arrived, I thought I was safe. But then the shots rang out.
I was shot in the head and arm. I survived — barely. In the hospital, I faced unbearable pain and the crushing reality that the man I loved had tried to kill me. I lost the career I’d built, the independence I cherished and the use of my hand. But I did not lose my voice.
Today, through therapy, family, and support from the Gulf Coast Center for Nonviolence, I am healing. I share my story so others know that abuse is never their fault. It doesn’t have to be physical; emotional, financial and psychological abuse are just as real. At the first sign of danger, make a plan. Tell someone you trust. Leave if you can.
I have learned that survival is not just about escaping violence. It’s about reclaiming your worth.
I have learned that survival is not just about escaping violence. It’s about reclaiming your worth. If you’re reading this and wondering whether you matter, let me be the one to tell you: Yes. You. Do.
Michelle Coleman is a member of the Gulf Coast Center for Nonviolence’s Voices Committee — composed of individuals with lived experience who assist in guiding services and assuring continued adherence to being survivor centered. Connect with the committee at voices@gccfn.org.