The Letter I Wish Someone Had Written Me Three Years Ago

If you're reading this, something brought you here.

Maybe it was the middle-of-the-night Google search: "Why do I keep going back to someone who hurts me?"

Maybe it was your best friend gently suggesting you "talk to someone" because she's watched you disappear over the last year.

Maybe it was that moment last Tuesday when you realized you don't recognize yourself anymore - that the woman you are now would terrify the woman you used to be.

Or maybe it was simpler than that.

Maybe you're just tired.

Tired of pretending you're okay. Tired of defending him to people who can see what you can't. Tired of the voice in your head that sounds like his voice, questioning every thought you have, every decision you make, every feeling you feel.

Tired of living in a body that doesn't feel like yours anymore - always tense, always waiting for the next shoe to drop, always scanning the room to gauge his mood before you know how to be.

I know that tired.

Because three years ago, I was you.

The Bathroom Floor Epiphany

It was 2am on a Thursday.

I'd been crying for so long my eyes were swollen shut. My chest hurt. My whole body hurt. But it was the kind of pain you can't locate - it's just everywhere.

We'd had another fight. Or... was it a fight? I couldn't even tell anymore. He hadn't yelled. He'd done that thing where he gets very quiet and very calm and makes me feel like I'm being hysterical for having feelings about the thing he did that hurt me.

By the end of it, I was apologizing to him. Again.

And as I sat there on that cold bathroom floor, mascara streaking down my face, I had two thoughts:

First thought: "I think I'm losing my mind."

Second thought: "What if I'm not? What if this is just what loving him feels like?"

That second thought was scarier than the first.

Because if this was what love felt like - this constant anxiety, this walking on eggshells, this feeling like you're too much and not enough all at once - then what did that say about me?

Looking back now, I can see that bathroom floor moment for what it was:

The moment where I had to choose.

Not between staying and leaving. Not yet.

But between believing his version of reality... or starting to question it.

Between thinking I was crazy... or considering that maybe, just maybe, I was being made to feel crazy.

Between accepting that this was love... or wondering if love was supposed to feel different.

I chose to question.

And that choice - that tiny crack in the facade - changed everything.

But Here's What I Wish Someone Had Told Me That Night

I wish someone had told me that the confusion I was feeling wasn't proof I was broken.

It was proof that something was being done to me.

I wish someone had told me that there's a name for what happens when someone systematically dismantles your sense of reality. It's called gaslighting. And it's not something you can think your way out of, because it's designed to make you distrust your own thinking.

I wish someone had told me that the reason I kept going back wasn't because I was weak or stupid or a "bad feminist."

It was because my nervous system had been hijacked.

There's a term for it: trauma bonding. It's what happens when someone intermittently gives you love and withholds it, gives you safety and threatens it, makes you feel seen and then makes you feel invisible. Your brain gets addicted to the relief of the good moments. You become chemically dependent on the person who's hurting you.

It's not love. It's neuroscience.

And I wish - God, I wish - someone had told me this:

You're not going to "figure this out" on your own. You need help. And needing help isn't weakness. It's wisdom.

Because here's what I tried first:

• I read all the articles. I could identify a narcissist from a mile away... except the one I was sleeping next to.
• I journaled. Pages and pages trying to make sense of things that weren't supposed to make sense.
• I talked to friends. They said "just leave" like it was that simple, like I hadn't tried to leave six times already.
• I prayed. I begged God to change him, to change me, to make it make sense, to just make it stop.
• I went to therapy. It helped. But my therapist specialized in depression, not relational trauma. She didn't understand why I kept going back.

And through all of that, I was still on that bathroom floor.

Different nights. Different reasons. But the same floor.

The Pattern I Couldn't See (Until I Did)

You know what finally changed?

I met a woman who'd been through it. Not someone who'd heard about toxic relationships. Someone who'd lived it.

She looked at me during coffee one afternoon and said something I'll never forget:

"You're not confused because you're stupid. You're confused because confusion is the point. He needs you confused. Confused women don't leave. Confused women blame themselves. Confused women try harder to fix things that he broke on purpose."

The clarity was instant. And devastating.

She was right.

Every time I tried to talk to him about something that hurt me, the conversation would end with me apologizing for bringing it up. Every time I set a boundary, he'd find a way to make me feel guilty for having needs. Every time I started to feel like myself again, he'd do something to remind me I wasn't safe without him.

This is what I do now. This is why I'm writing you this letter.

Because if you're where I was three years ago - confused, exhausted, wondering if you're crazy - I need you to hear this:

You're not crazy. You're not broken. You're not too much or not enough. You are being psychologically manipulated by someone who benefits from your confusion.

And once you see that clearly - once you have someone who can name what's happening to you and walk you through how to heal from it - everything changes.

Why This Keeps Happening (And Why It Will Keep Happening Until You Understand This)

Here's the hard truth nobody wants to tell you:

Leaving isn't the hardest part. Staying gone is.

You know how I know?

Because I left seven times before I stayed gone.

Seven times, I packed my bags. Seven times, I was done. Seven times, I told my friends "this is it - I'm really leaving this time."

And seven times, I went back.

Why?

Because leaving him wasn't the problem. The problem was that I took me with me.

I took the version of me who believed I was only lovable when I was performing. The version who thought setting boundaries made me selfish. The version who'd learned as a little girl that love meant sacrificing yourself.

I took the neural pathways that had been carved into my nervous system - the ones that said danger felt like home, that calm felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop, that healthy love felt boring compared to the high-stakes drama I'd become addicted to.

I took the unhealed wounds from my childhood that made me a perfect match for someone like him in the first place.

So I kept finding him. Different face. Same man.

Or worse - I kept going back to the original.

Because here's what they don't tell you about toxic relationships:

That's the difference.

That's what I'm offering you.

Not just help leaving. Help healing. Help ensuring this never happens again.

What Actually Works (The Framework That Changed Everything)

After I finally stayed gone - after I did the work to heal the parts of me that made the relationship possible in the first place - I went back to school.

I got certified as a life coach. I studied trauma and attachment theory. I devoured everything I could find on narcissistic abuse recovery, codependency, and the neuroscience of toxic relationships.

But most importantly, I worked with woman after woman who'd been where I'd been.

And over time, I noticed something.

The women who healed - really healed, not just "felt better for a few months then ended up with another toxic man" - all went through the same five phases.

Not in the same order for everyone. Not at the same pace. But the same five shifts had to happen for real, lasting healing to occur.

I call it the Reclamation Framework.

The Choice You're Making Right Now (Whether You Realize It Or Not)

I need to be direct with you about something.

You're at a crossroads.

And the choice you make in the next few days - not months, days - is going to determine whether you spend the next year finally healing... or the next year stuck in the same cycle.

Here's what I know about this moment you're in:

Right now, you have clarity.

Something happened recently - a fight, a revelation, a friend's observation, a quiet moment where you finally admitted to yourself that this isn't working - that gave you a moment of clarity.

That's why you're here, reading this letter.

But here's what's going to happen if you don't act on this clarity:

In a few days, the clarity will start to fade. The desperation will ease. You'll start to wonder if maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe he's changed. Maybe you just need to try harder.

(This is your nervous system trying to return to homeostasis. It's trying to go back to what's familiar, even if what's familiar is killing you.)

And before you know it, you'll be back where you were. Or with someone else just like him. And the next time you have clarity, it might be six months from now. Or a year. Or three years.

So let me ask you directly:

Where do you want to be a year from now?

Option 1: Still stuck in the same pattern. Maybe with him. Maybe with someone new who feels eerily similar. Still wondering why this keeps happening. Still googling "am I being gaslit" at 2am. Still apologizing for having feelings. Still shrinking yourself to keep the peace. Still waiting for a version of love that's never going to come from someone like him.

Option 2: Genuinely free. Not just physically - emotionally, psychologically, spiritually free. You trust yourself again. You've healed the wounds that made the relationship possible. You recognize red flags instantly. You walk away from situations that don't serve you without guilt. You've built a life you actually love. And when someone asks you about your ex, you genuinely can't remember why you stayed as long as you did.

Which version of yourself do you want to be?

Because I can help you become Option 2.

But only if you're ready to do the work.

How We Can Work Together

I've created three different pathways for working with me, depending on where you are and what you need.

Your Questions Answered

"How do I know this will work for me?"

I can't promise it will work. But I can tell you this: Every woman I've worked with who showed up, did the work, and trusted the process experienced real, measurable change.

Not just "feeling better for a while." Actual transformation. Actual freedom.

The only thing I can't help with is someone who isn't ready. If you're still trying to change him, still hoping he'll wake up and realize what he's losing, still convinced you just need to explain yourself better - you're not ready yet.

But if you're ready to focus on healing you? It works.

"What if I can't afford it?"

I offer payment plans for packages and for the Group Journey. If finances are the only thing standing between you and healing, let's have a conversation about what might be possible.

But I also want to be honest with you about something:

How much is this costing you right now? Not in money. In energy. In peace. In years of your life. In your mental health. In your ability to trust yourself. In the woman you could be if you weren't carrying this weight.

The real cost isn't the investment in healing. It's what it costs to not heal.

"What if he finds out I'm doing this?"

Everything we do together is completely confidential. Your privacy and safety are my top priorities.

If you're in an unsafe situation, we'll work together to create a plan that protects you.

"What if I'm not 'bad enough' for coaching?"

If you're asking this question, you're probably minimizing what you went through. That's what gaslighting does - it makes you doubt your own reality, even after it's over.

You don't have to have been hit to deserve support. You don't have to have "proof" he was abusive. If your gut is telling you something was wrong, your gut is right.

"What makes you qualified to help?"

I'm a certified life coach with specialized training in trauma and attachment theory. But more importantly: I've been where you are. I've healed from what you're healing from. And I've walked hundreds of women through this exact process.

I'm not selling you theory. I'm offering you a path I've already walked - and a hand to hold while you walk it too.