My clothes.
How often I visited friends.
Whether I talked too loudly at dinner.
How much money I spent.
Even which projects were “worth my time.”
I had mistaken constant criticism for partnership.
Now Naomi was simply asking if I believed in my own ability.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
Three months later, the agency offered me a permanent position and a raise.
I bought a better computer.
Helped my parents fix the roof they had been postponing for years.
Invested part of what remained.
And left most of the money untouched as security.
The strangest part was what happened to my story.
It didn’t disappear.
Women kept messaging me.
Some had left marriages.
Some were considering it.
Some simply wanted to tell someone what was happening inside their homes.
A local women’s advocacy organization eventually invited me to speak about early signs of coercive control.
My first reaction was to refuse.
