Verbal Abuse Begins
“After feeling completely swept off my feet by someone I believed was one of the sweetest, kindest men I had ever met, I was in for a painful awakening. Even before this incident, he had already begun accusing me of cheating—without reason or proof. One day, as we were leaving a coffee shop I visited often, an employee who recognized me called out, ‘Hey Dani, I didn’t know you knew that troublemaker,’ joking that they’d gone to high school together. I casually replied, ‘Yeah, we know each other through mutual friends,’ and we said our goodbyes.
The moment we got into the car, it was as if a switch had flipped. His entire demeanor changed. He was furious, driving recklessly, and I was completely confused. Eventually, he explained his anger: he was upset that I hadn’t introduced him as ‘my boyfriend.’ Something so small had triggered something so intense.
I went home angry and hurt, unable to understand how such a minor moment had turned into such rage. I decided to drive to his house to talk things through. We sat in the car for about 20 minutes, but the conversation went nowhere. Feeling overwhelmed, I went for a walk to clear my head and called my best friend for support. During the 20 minutes I was gone, he sent a barrage of texts accusing me of getting picked up by another guy. The messages escalated quickly—he called me a skank, a whore, a slut, a crazy b*tch—every insult imaginable. I was shattered. I had never been spoken to like that in my life.
We eventually worked through it, and I chose to put it behind me after making it very clear that his behavior was unacceptable. He apologized.
‘I’ll never overreact like that again,’ he promised.
But after that moment, things were never the same. He kept me up late into the night arguing endlessly, searching for anything he could twist into an accusation. He shattered my phone screen, punched a hole in my wall, stole items from my home, and constantly shifted blame onto me. He was disturbingly skilled at turning every situation around so that I felt like the villain.
This relationship brought me to the lowest place I had ever known. He carried deep childhood trauma and severe trust issues but had no awareness of them. Whenever things escalated, his pattern was the same: an apology, a gift—often jewelry—or a carefully planned date, followed by promises that it would never happen again. I reached a point where I knew I couldn’t keep living this way. I had to take control before things became even more dangerous.
The final month of our relationship was the worst. Constant arguments, nonstop accusations, and relentless verbal abuse consumed us. We agreed to take some space, hoping it might help. During that time, he spent time with my best friend. I hoped she might talk some sense into him, especially since she had been through something similar. Inside, I felt completely drained—yet part of me still loved him. I clung to memories of the good moments: the laughter, the road trips, the fun, and the pain I knew he carried beneath it all. The emotional conflict tore me apart. I had never felt so disconnected from myself. My confidence eroded, and I began questioning everything I did.
He invited me to a graduation party, and while we were there, he repeatedly accused me of looking at other men. I was close to breaking. After a week apart, he asked to see me again. I agreed to meet him for food, but when he insisted we hang out afterward, I said no. He begged, then became angry when I didn’t give in. When I got home, he texted me saying he was coming over anyway.
My dad answered the door when he arrived, and things escalated quickly. He argued with my father, got in his face, and refused to leave. I had to physically step between them. Even as I forced him out, he continued insulting my dad. I was devastated and completely done.
A few days later, I left for a weekend trip to California with close friends. I thought the distance would help me think clearly. That first night, around 2 a.m., one of my friends and I sat on the hotel steps as I poured out everything—the confusion, the pain, the anger boiling inside me. I couldn’t understand how I could still love someone while clearly seeing the truth: he was manipulative, narcissistic, and verbally abusive. She gently but firmly told me what I needed to hear.
‘He won’t change—not right now,’ she said.
With my hands shaking, I wrote a breakup message, terrified of what his reaction would be. We went to bed shortly afterward.
The Break-Up
When I woke up the next morning around 11 a.m., my phone was flooded with missed calls, voicemails, and texts. He was furious. That wasn’t new—angry, hateful voicemails had become routine. He told me he had driven to California to find me and couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t tell him where I was. When I didn’t respond, he sent a message that made my heart stop. He admitted that while we were ‘taking space,’ he had been sleeping with my best friend.
At first, I thought he was lying to provoke me. We were in the car heading to the beach, and I handed the phone to the friend he was referring to. She shrugged and smirked, silently confirming it. My world collapsed. I had a panic attack and had to get out of the car. After that release, I shut down completely. Despite continuing messages from him—and escalating threats of suicide—I tried to survive the rest of the trip.
But it wasn’t over.
Stalking Me
When we returned home, my friend and I went our separate ways. A six-year friendship ended that day. Unfortunately, my ex didn’t let go. Though I was done, he wasn’t. He became obsessive and cruel—waiting across the street from my workplace, parking near my house, following me, sending flowers to my job. He left horrific voicemails, weaponized personal things I had once trusted him with, and threatened my family. I blocked his number, so he downloaded apps to create fake numbers. He made fake Twitter, Snapchat, and Instagram accounts just to reach me.
I felt like I was losing my mind. Anxiety consumed me. I watched every move I made, lost friendships, and felt completely broken. He threatened suicide if I didn’t comply with his demands. I was terrified and trapped.
Changing my number was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I hated the idea of rearranging my life because of someone else. When he realized, he began emailing me. Every notification sent me into panic. When my next semester of college started, he somehow knew my schedule. One day, he was waiting outside my classroom. He followed me across campus for 20 minutes as I cried, feeling invisible and helpless. Eventually, I escaped to my car—but he followed me again.
When I finally saw my mom, I asked for help. I knew what I had to do. I sought a protective order. I was terrified of his reaction, but it was granted and served. After that, I didn’t see or hear from him again. It was one of the hardest, bravest things I’ve ever done.
Moving On
This entire ordeal lasted from February 2017 until August 2017. In June, I found yoga—one of the few things that kept me grounded, alongside the unwavering support of my family and friends. When it was over, I felt empty, lost, and broken—but I also knew I was worth so much more. I believe I was given that relationship to learn something vital. I had lost myself, but I was finally reclaiming who I was.
I fell deeply in love with yoga. A year after receiving the protective order, I enrolled in an advanced yoga program. Today, I’m three-quarters of the way through and am a certified yoga teacher, life coach, hatha gong master, yoga nidra facilitator, and more. I love my life—and most importantly, I love myself. Healing is still a daily journey, but it’s a beautiful one. Now, my purpose is to help women who are in or have escaped abusive relationships reclaim their identity and build a foundation of true self-love.”
