As it turns out though, it’s not enough to provide resources and escape plans and a support system for those affected, or to attempt to invoke empathy from those around you. As it turns out, there will never be tangible change or a future that looks different if there is no hope. The most powerful thing I can do is create hope: for survivors and their futures, and for the communities who want to make a difference. The truth of the matter is that my life after abuse is just as, if not more important, of a story to tell. It tells survivors who identify with me that their life is not over at the hands of someone else, and it tells bystanders that their participation in advocacy helps create certain, beautiful futures. It gives them a tangible effect to believe in. It tells them that their work means something, and that standing with survivors will always be worth it.
I tend to have bad days every once in a while, as we all do, and I have the very common experience of what I like to call a “survivor spiral”. In my experience, I start to think about how unfair it is that I have to live with the effects of someone else’s actions. I start to wonder who I would be, and how I would be different if I had never walked through that dark time in my life. It’s a slippery slope and once those moments begin, it's hard to stop them and I tend to find myself in the middle of a panic attack or breakdown. Today though, in the midst of the thoughts of how unfair abuse is, I also realized that there has not been a single moment in the past 2 years where I have not felt loved. And that is exactly what I want to tell you about. The truth of it all is that it IS unfair. It’s heartbreaking and anger-inducing and devastating. But how will we know how beautiful the constellations of stars are if we’ve never walked through the dark? How will we know exactly how to connect with survivors and enact change if we’ve never shared similar experiences? I cannot change the events of my past, but I can walk forward with my head held high, knowing that the person that I have become is cloaked in unimaginable strength and incomparable gentleness that separates me from my abuser with a gap he will never be able to close. When you are brave enough to walk away from what is familiar, and step into the unknown in hopes of a better life, you will find yourself rewarded with more beautiful things than you have ever thought possible. One of my very favorite quotes is this:
“People speak of hope as if it is this delicate, ephemeral thing made of whispers and spider’s webs. It’s not. Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of the cobblestones in her hair, and just spat out a tooth as she rises for another go.”
Hope has not and will never be an easy thing. It is an action verb that takes the utmost determination and strength to carry out. Over the past few years, I’ve learned through experience that it will always be worth it to take that leap, even if you have to take it while uncertain and scared. Knowing this, and knowing that that is always easier said than done, I want to give you some tangible evidence of what a beautiful, worthy, abuse-free future looks like.
This August, I moved into my very first apartment with two of my best friends in the entire world. My dad drove an hour and a half to move me in, and put together all of my furniture for me, and took me grocery shopping before he hugged me goodbye and told me how proud he was. I decorated my room exactly to my tastes. I bought a baby pink toaster, and set up my pink Keurig on my kitchen counter. I get to sit on my balcony in the mornings and watch the sun rise, or stand out there and listen to the rain hit the pavement. I created a space that is all my own, covered in dinosaur paraphernalia and girly pink decorations: all things I had previously been made fun of for, or made to feel bad about. I get to come home to a place that has never been marked by violence, or by fighting, or my fear-filled tears praying for something more than the position I was in.
I met the girls I now live with when I was a freshman in college, still unsure of who I was or how I deserved to be treated. I somehow stumbled into this friendship unsuspecting, and we quickly became an inseparable trio. It is a wonderfully beautiful thing to have them as friends, because I know that I will never have to walk through anything alone. The true test of friendship is finding people who will accept you and love you on the best and the worst days of your life. I got to come home to them when I was crowned Miss Tippecanoe 2025, and I got to come home to them when I failed my first chemistry test. They make me laugh until my stomach hurts, and will sit with me in silence until I'm ready to talk. They have never viewed me as broken, or unworthy, or “too much” to deal with. They love all the pieces of me, including the ones I'm still trying to pick up on behalf of 15-year-old me. To find your village is the best future you can hope for.
I started my junior year of college this year, and I get to spend my days learning from some of the best kinesiology professors in the country. How privileged am I to get to walk with friends to class, sit with and share notes with them, share my joy with them. How privileged am I to sit in a classroom and learn how to help the people around me. I’m ¾ of the way through a bachelor's degree, and I am lucky enough to have one more year of undergrad to be exhausted from studying all night, to be stressed about an exam, to eat terrible cafeteria food. What a joy it is to live out a dream you prayed for over and over.
In June, I went to Miss Indiana 2024 as Miss Heart of the Midwest. I was nominated as a Joy of Life finalist, an award given for community service and the impact on the people around you. I was given a space to tell my story, and to talk about the girl I've been, the girl I am, and the girl I will be. The whole week was full of memories, love, sisterhood, and joy. I never would have guessed that any of these experiences would be part of my story, but I am so grateful that they are. Pageantry as a whole has brought me so much love, but to get here I had to trust that hope would carry me through.
Last November I met my wonderful partner, who I am convinced is an angel on earth, and who quickly redefined what I knew love to be. The scars of an abusive relationship will probably always be there, but she loves me regardless, as the whole person that I am. She learned my triggers, and learned how to make me feel loved, and prioritized my joy and safety. I’ve laughed more in the past 12 months than I ever have before. We have coffee dates, and study dates, and spend our days finding adventures to embark on together. I've had to buy multiple new vases because she brings me flowers so often I ran out of clean mason jars to put them in. All of these things are to say that if you start to believe that all you deserve is abusive, manipulative “love”, take my word for it that your brain is lying to you, and that there is a future full of love ahead. There is love out there that does not encompass violence. There is love out there that perpetuates kindness and respect, even within anger. There is love out there that will teach you that not all anger accompanies a fist. There is love out there that will teach you what it's truly supposed to feel like to be cared for; that won't make you cry, and builds you up instead of breaking you down.
My partner and I even have a beautiful puppy, a sweet girl named Blue. She is my tiny shadow, my companion, and brings me more joy than I even knew I had the capacity for. She is a reminder that there is hope and joy waiting in the form of unexpected experiences, people, animals, feelings, places. Just because you can’t imagine it doesn't mean it isn't waiting for you. All of these things probably seem so frivolous, but to me they are my little pockets of joy. How refreshing it is to have a place to belong; a place where I am wanted and celebrated. How refreshing it is to hear my abusers voice in my head and be able to say “you were wrong. I did it all, and I built a life that is all mine”. How beautiful it is to savor these moments, on behalf of that sweet 15 year old who wasn’t sure if she would live to see 18. I get to have a calm, peaceful, completely uninterrupted life of my own. That is a dream that most survivors do not ever get to live. Some women never make it out. So I sit here today, in my very own apartment, with my beautiful friends, loving family, sweet puppy, and perfect partner, completely full of gratitude. Gratitude for the women who carried my hope for me until I was brave enough to carry it myself. Gratitude for every woman who came before me, and lit the way for survivors everywhere to build a life of their own. It’s my turn to carry the torch.
My life now is beautiful because I made it that way; because the people around me encouraged me to never settle. Because I found the strength to trust hope and trust love just one more time. If you cannot find that strength alone, please let me lend you some of mine. Heaven knows I didn't get here alone.
If you take anything away from all of this, let it be this: Do not trust the part of your brain that is familiar with pain and suffering. Do not let it tell you that your life is over. Do not let it tell you that this is all there will ever be. Do not let it decide your future for you.
You are entirely up to you. No other person’s actions will ever define you, and there is no experience that disqualifies you from being deserving of a love that is safe, secure, and respectful. Allow yourself to make room for unknown joy, and trust the tiny spark of hope in your heart that is whispering to you that a better life is out there. And, when you feel brave enough, take a step forward and seek out the life you deserve; it is waiting for you, whenever you're ready.
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