He thought breaking me in half would make me easier to control. What he never understood was that each broken piece carried its own strength, and when I gathered them back together, I became something whole that he could never touch again.

That’s the mistake abusers make – they think destruction equals domination. They imagine that if they shatter your spirit, silence your voice, and dismantle your confidence, you’ll be left too fragile to fight back. What they never anticipate is that brokenness has its own power. Each piece holds memory, resilience, and lessons that weren’t there before.

When I was in the middle of it, I couldn’t see that. All I could feel was the pain of the fracture, the weight of humiliation, the exhaustion of surviving one more day in a life that didn’t feel like mine. But with time, I started to gather those pieces. Slowly, painfully, I stitched them back together. Each piece became sharper, stronger, and more defined than before.

What I built wasn’t the same version of me that once existed. That woman is gone, and I grieved her. But what came after was someone unshakable – someone who knew her worth, who understood her strength, and who refused to live small for anyone else’s comfort.

The truth is, wholeness isn’t about being unbroken. It’s about learning how to stand taller because of the breaks. I didn’t come back “despite” the destruction – I came back because of it. And that wholeness? That’s the thing he can never take, never touch, never break again.