My name is Erica. I am a mother. I am a survivor. I am an alcoholic. None of these were things I ever thought I would be.

In my early 20s, I met someone who seemed charming and caring. There were red flags, but I ignored them. Over time, the relationship slowly became toxic—so gradually that I didn’t realize the danger until it was too late.

I remember the first time I was hit. The apologies followed, along with promises and manipulation. Over time, the abuse escalated. I lived in fear, trapped without financial independence, support, or escape.

I lost my independence, my support system, and eventually myself. I stayed home raising our children while my partner lived a completely separate life. My children became my world, my only source of peace.

Loneliness turned into coping. One glass of wine became many. I used alcohol to numb the pain, the silence, and the isolation. Slowly, I became an alcoholic.

As the relationship worsened, I discovered betrayal and infidelity. Eventually, divorce followed. I was diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD, and instead of support, my trauma was used against me.

In 2024, I lost access to my children due to legal battles I could not afford to fight. Even today, I have no contact with them. My voice in the courtroom was taken from me because I lacked financial resources.