In 2009, I lost a daughter I named Sophya Gisele.

Shortly after this I went and stayed with her father who was staying in Mexico until he fixed his Diplomatic status into a citizen status the legal way.

This entire ordeal led to months of severe abuse. We lived in a small home that had an iron door with quite a few locks. He would lock them all, move his large workout equipment in front of the window because I jumped out once to escape, and would keep me held hostage while he beat me.

On two occasions, I nearly died at his hands, once through strangulation of his hands. The second time he used our wire we used to hang clothes after washing them to strangle me. Afterwards I had marks on my necks that clearly showing I was being abused, but forced to cover them up while in scorching hot temperatures so “no one would know” as he instructed me to do so.

On both occasions I passed out and woke up to him sobbing and saying he was going to kill himself and wouldn’t hurt me anymore.

I didn’t believe him. But I was afraid of my life and chose to oblige and comfort him during the times he was apologizing.

He threatened to kill my family, and told me the only way I would return to the US is in a body bag.

When I returned to the US I had 18 bruises all over my body that I hid with turtle necks and scarves. I was stalked and threatened for months, photos of me walking anywhere that wasn’t my home were sent to me reminding me that he had people watching my every move. I have countless emails tucked away still of him apologizing profusely, then saying I was the worst thing in his life, to saying he was better off without me, to begging me to return.

Years later, he apologized and claimed he was heavy into drugs which was the cause. A year or so after this apology, he contacted me saying he was with a woman who “just like you, accused me of abuse.” I guess it was his way of seeing if he still had a hold of me emotionally, which he did at the time even if it was years later.

It took me over 5 years to stop having full blown flashbacks, of me avoiding streets that had memories of us, and from curling up into a ball crying and shaking whenever I had something trigger me.

To this day, sudden moves STILL frighten me. Even now, the person I trust the most will touch me and I will get startled and sometimes even will have a panic attack because of it. I still have triggers I have to avoid as best as I can.

Before any of this happened, I was very quiet, reserved, unable to speak up for myself. I would quietly cave to anyone and everyone and was often stepped all over. I thank him for giving me a voice. I thank him for paving the way I molded myself. I thank him for making me kind, humble, but intolerant of those who try to push me around.

Please remember that we all have our past. We all have our dark parts. Many people suffer terribly at the hands of others. I wish this world wasn’t so cold and cruel. I try my best to not judge, to be kind to strangers, to smile when I walk past someone in the grocery store. I try to remember that so many people passed me in the streets of Guanajuato and none of them stopped to try to make me smile. None of them spoke up when they saw my broken smile, the sadness in my eyes, the bruises on my body. I remember this, and try to be the absolute best I can be so that someone who is going through what I did, or going through anything difficult in their life, has a little bit of happiness and hope, even if it’s only for a few seconds of their day.