Telling My Story

My name is Karlie (Hart) Hall, and I am a survivor of abuse.

I don't have physical bruises and cuts. I've never had my face slapped or my bones broken in anger. But I have been afraid. I've covered my face with my hands to ward off words that hurt worse than any physical blow. I've hidden in the corner as a small child to avoid being screamed and yelled at, being told that I am "ignorant" and "worthless." All in the name of making sure I don't turn out like an idiot, just like everyone else. (And yes, I was told that.)

I was manipulated into believing this was love.

This is not love.

If someone tells you the sky is green, if that's all you hear day after day, if they believe it themselves so much that you can never convince them otherwise, you will start to doubt yourself. Even when you can go outside and look up and see with your own eyes it isn't true.

I have been silent for years, but that is changing. I'm telling my story - not out of hatred or a sense of vengeance, but in the hope that others will see and be helped. I want to raise awareness for those who are still waiting for help, and compassion for the ones who survived but will never be same. I want to make people understand how serious and wrong emotional abuse is.

My name is Karlie. I was abused, but I survived.

Lots of people don't.