From barely alive, to workouts that lasted late into the night. From challenging me to go to work, to continue on and to never give up, this has been my six-year plight.

When I first met Mr. Z, I was 50% dead and my hair was balled up into a nest, I hadn't eaten in days, was starving and frail. I could not do basic things like cook or care for myself and it would have been simple to have thrown in the towel. But, Mr. Z showed me another way which involved rising above catastrophe and explaining that defeatism was what I needed to get over. I couldn't change the past that imprisoned me like an anchor to the sea floor, so the task was made to condition me into a powerhouse that could never be demolished.

My life looked like a natural disaster.

He told me what I needed to know at the time, which is how I got there. He told me what had happened and the shock and devastation were overwhelming. Partly catatonic due to persistent and cruel treatment, I did what I could to survive as basically as possible. My life went from building up and excelling to directly into a ditch; lower than I thought was possible.

I had a crater that ripped through me and I had to conceal my ordeals with a mask and a halfhearted smile. I carried a humongous fear and was deathly afraid to speak of what brought me there. I had worked so hard for my entire life, the despair was consuming.

Before that, if I failed, in any way, I knew I would be totally alone and have no one to help me. Miraculously, I met Mr. Z who swooped in when I thought my life was over.

I was incredibly vulnerable and no one from my family cared. Once I ended a relationship, no one talked to me. I was screamed at and condemned. They weren't even telling me why.

For years, I did my best to turn the other cheek, move on and try not let it get to me until it became apparent to me that things weren't adding up. How come this man had improved steadily will my life took a direct opposite angle? It was heartbreaking to hear Mr. Z inform me that the man who I had been nothing but kind and faithful to had lied about me and things I'd done. He told people I had an affair when I had never cheated on anyone in my entire life. He was, in fact, the cheater and carried on liaisons with at least one co-worker and a woman who claimed to be my friend. He hit on them in front of me to my dismay.

It was as if he couldn't stand me and wanted me to pay. But for what? What did I need to be punished for? Because I had been pressured into being with him and eventually saw that it was going to end up with broken hearts everywhere? I couldn't in good conscience do that to myself, my family or any potential offspring. I wanted a love that was going to last and I doubted my ability to ever find that. However, I chose to end the relationship for the sake of authenticity. I wish I had never agreed to a commitment to him, but since I could not undo that, separating seemed like the amicable solution.

It's not like I was speaking a foreign language with him either. I knew that he knew what I did and refused to accept it. I just wanted to do the right thing like I always have. I kept my mouth shut about my relationships and did what I could to survive. Whereas I had one relative who escaped by clinging to rich people, I clung to people who would give me a safe spot to crash. That became my lifestyle.

How could I have ever been interested in someone who resented and hated me so much? How could I have been so misled? I guess there is a thin line between love and hate; I get that. But, there's not one person who I've ever loved who I now hate and because I never really loved him, but only thought I did, I don't even hate him now. I lament a waste of time and energy, wishing I had waited for someone worthy who would have never undermined or screwed me over.

There were many degrees of shade that I didn't know how to maneuver. The fact that I am not vengeful and don't play dirty was used against an unsuspecting self.

I truly never thought he'd put energy into ruining my life. Everything I'd helped him with from his health to advancing his career was seen as owed. I suppose he was worried that he'd lose these things if we were no longer together and obviously, he only "loved" me for what he could get out of me. My father flew us up to visit him free of charge, paid for things and he got tons of gratuitous things from me. I'd give my partner whatever he needed, I just didn't know how many people wanted it all and to leave me with nothing but heartache. Why couldn't I find a person who would repay that dedication by refusing to ever injure me or my good name? I still have yet to meet a single man of this character.

Once when we were dating he was doubled over in pain and he thought he had a stomach ache. After a few days, I demanded that he go to a doctor and luckily he did go reluctantly. After an hour, he called to say he had acute appendicitis and was rushed to the emergency room. I saved his life and when I left him he nearly killed my life through lies. Who could do such a despicable thing?

I was all but abandoned over the things he said about me. He subverted my existence in order to dismantle all the things I spent my entire life building up. He infected my friendships, my family members, and the community and ruined my reputation with falsehoods. That was the thanks I got for helping him and saving his life.

I had a vision the other day about this. At times they are deeply upsetting and disturbing and when I awake at night, I can't go back to sleep because I am too afraid to close my eyes. My reality was so horrific that I couldn't face it alone. Facing it meant I'd be alone in hell without water or an escape route.

When I reflect on the various tortures I survived, it often leaves me too stunned to speak of it even years after the fact. It was if my voice was stifled deep down into my gut to where I could not even begin to talk about it. The cruelty in it all was, how was I going to get help if I couldn't even talk about what happened?

Over the years I went from uncontrollably weeping over my realizations and pain to having Mr. Z. challenge me every single day to be stronger. What happened to me seemed insurmountable. I knew no way to get over that and knew no one who could get over that. It was a typical death sentence what happened, as it killed my very spirit. Worse is that seemed to be why it was done-kill her dream and her future.

My vision was of a ring on my wedding finger. My ex-took it off and left a bomb on my ring finger. I realized that he had a strong investment in making sure I was obliterated. My ring finger symbolizes matrimony, commitment, worthiness, popularity, and purity. The bomb signified trying to annihilate all of those things. It was soul-crushing to have my worth ripped apart over jealousy, envy, and revenge. I've never felt so despised like this was a witchhunt. But, I'm no witch.

The other day, I said to him with the smallest voice I could muster, "I don't understand why people hate me so much. ." He said,"They do. " It's a deadening blow for someone like me who is full of love and acceptance. He would say,"I need to get you to the point where you are bulletproof. " And while that task took years, he helped and showed me how to protect myself and how to heal the terror of what I had experienced alone.

Now, I know that what I went through was not an automatic ending to goodness, chastity, and purity which for me is everything I've always tried to embody and symbolize. Maybe that was why the terror was done, and I had to prove it was not my fault. It was merely a traumatic event that was undeserved and that if I could make it out, anyone could. I didn't seek this role out, rather it sought out me and the reason I know this is because God sent me to Mr. Z. so I would overcome and survive.

This meant that I needed to be done with anyone who believed my cheating ex or gave him the time of day. Anyone willing to accept that destruction was not for me and I had to cease caring about the foolish opinions of others, especially when faced with the obviousness of the lies.

If I was some trampy female who was unfaithful how come there was no one else claiming what he claimed? Out of perhaps, the 5 or so men who I dated seriously in my lifetime not one of them could claim what he claimed: not one. I could also supply hundreds if not thousands of names of men who I refused to date or get involved with. And when that didn't convince people entirely, he had to attack my state of mind. It appeared obvious that this was one thing after another of discrediting an innocent person.

How many tramps have dated so few men? And worse because I was so reticent to start relationships, he decided to elude that the low numbers revealed a secret lifestyle that I was hiding. I ask,"Are you nuts? " Was it that impossible to believe this girl is afraid of commitment and to love somebody? After all the very people who were supposed to love me openly abused me, thus terrifying me of entering into any unions. If anything my reaction was standard.

I used to think that rumors were petty and stupid and didn't even deserve the time of day. But after this experience, I realized that rumors can kill and destroy when those rumors get around to hateful groups. Labeling someone as something they aren't in an effort to injure them is detestable. At the very least it might cause a person to be largely despised. At worst, it can cause people to attack another person or even disfigurement or death.

I felt hated and like my life did not matter and I've never experienced such extreme animosity.

Now would be the time to say that outsiders really need to swap scenarios completely to get the real truth. People have tried to pull me away from Mr. Z, who btw, is the only reason that I'm alive and well today. None to few men attempted to intervene with the psycho from my past or my ex who spread vicious lies about me. How cruel.

Is this how we reward heroes and survivors? By ruining reputations, refusing jobs and being stingy? That's f-ed up.

When friends began to distance themselves and people refused to speak to me or assist me, I was puzzled since I thought I'd done things properly.

After being raped shortly after our split, I had been threatened not to talk about or report it. I was made to do laborious things like laundry and tasks. He used to intentionally do horrible things to me knowing I was trapped and as time went on, my soul began to die. The light inside of me began to dim.

I never experienced anything like it and it was the worst feeling of my entire lifetime. I got that he was trying to kill my spirit which would inevitably kill me. And what I did as I saw the sand falling out of the hourglass rapidly was pray. I'd pray at night, in the dark, when I was alone, petrified.

I'd been through some very distressful ordeals like being left alone and mourning over terrible losses and was prescribed heavy medications in order to sleep and keep my job. They did another thing which kept me trapped as denial, pain, exhaustion and my desire to follow through on doctor's orders consumed my life.

Then I began to hear church bells when before I'd never noticed them. I'd be laying down and hear them. Each time that happened, my spirit came back on little by little. Then an instinct told me to wean off the medication I was on even though this went against my medical plan. Though I was petrified to go without it I began to cut back.

At first, I was bombarded with nightmares as my stomach and digestion went haywire. I barely ate and felt like an empty shell. The discomfort was overwhelming and I fought the urge to go back to medicating myself just to get some rest. But, I hung tight and two weeks after discontinuing a prescription that I thought was assisting me, I realized that I needed to get away from the man I was with. The terror could no longer be masked and I was absolutely traumatized.

I luckily got away and stood up to him. I remember the moment when it seemed like a divine spirit or angel came near me and gave me the strength I needed to get out. I could hear and feel her guiding me as I confronted this man and told him I wanted to get my stuff and leave as he seethed and raged.

After the length of time, I'd been held hostage, I had zero zest or patience left. I began to put pressure on his abdomen because I didn't care. At that, his mouth foamed and he raged. We were at the top of a staircase and I heard a voice nudge me not to push him. I heeded the advice and instead made my way underneath his arm and ran to get my items. As I did this tears streamed down my face. I wanted my stuff and I wanted out no matter what that pathological maniac pretended our situation to be.

I called a friend during this and asked her to help me but she was reluctant to get involved. As I marched up and down the stairs, he sat at his computer ignoring me. Then he began to bark orders at me. "Take your boots off. They are scuffing my wood floor! " I looked at him completely baffled and said,"What?" He continued to scream that my boots would ruin his floor, but it was only after I told him I was getting out. If that weren't the case, I doubt he'd have been so angry and I preferred to just go.

I went up and down those stairs with boxes and personal things. It was January and I was made to march all my things to my car barefoot. During the time before that, he was always pulling petty and disturbing things like blaming me for a rat that he had in his home. He told me that my arms were "too short" and therefore said that I was dropping food on the carpet.

I shook my head in disbelief when he came up to and screamed in my face. He terrorized me nearly every day and what I wanted most was not to be yelled at or harmed. The days and length of time that passed without screaming were welcomed and a year after meeting him, my life had been leveled. I'd lost my job and gotten into terrible predicaments no thanks to him.

One afternoon, he told me that I needed to apply for twenty jobs before I could eat dinner. I sat at his computer and filled out applications that took forever while he took a bb gun and shot at rabbits in his backyard saying that they couldn't be poisoned. His pathology was horrifying and the psychologist in me wanted to comprehend. Yet, I was unable to help someone that disturbed. No one even attempted to investigate my claims and if they had, they'd have found some truth to what I was saying. The assault ripped me in half and I was terribly in shock forced to accept that there was nothing I could do about it.

When this happened, I knew that something from above was telling me that back then was not the right time. I was so defeated but, I needed to wait a very long time. I am not afraid of anything he might try now because I know he is a criminal and a liar. The more he tried stuff the more I promised to reveal the truth. Because the truth is why he was doing all of this.

One night, we went down to his pool where he ordered me to collect leaves from the bottom while he sat on the edge watching me from above. I had severe chills that night that something really bad was brewing and I dove down twice to get some leaves. But, he kept encouraging me to go nearer the drain and a strong force pulled me back sensing danger. I got the sense that there was a trap in the drain. This was a year after the assault and that was the closest I came to dying because of his guilt. As he sat in a chair alongside the top of the pool watching me he waited for a murderous opportunity. How does one overcome that without money, help and after being starved and abused?

When I escaped, I had never been so exhausted in all of my life. I woke up in sweats screaming and begged my relatives to help me. Then, I was unfortunately abandoned. As I began to see things like how my life had gone straight to hell while my ex's life had progressed perfectly, I began to realize the truth. I moved and tried to start my life over again. Then, by a sick twist of fate and bad timing I survived ingesting bath salts without my knowledge. It was almost the cruelest cherry on top of my brave survival and journey.

What had remained of my experience before that was that I was relatively intact and my health was OK? After that, the bath salts destroyed what little remained and I was pushed even further into a dark despair. I can talk about it if it means helping other women who might be in this same predicament right now since I would have liked if someone had tried to do that for me while I was stuck in that disadvantageous state.

Mr. Z. had me eat right, workout and help him out in return for his protection. This man is a hero and he saved my life. Yet we've both had to endure the pain of being lied about and defamed.

All these years I've kept silent about the incidents that nearly ended my life. And when I tried to talk about them I was labeled a liar, crazy or dramatic. This is heartbreaking. I couldn't have invented stories like these even if I wanted to. My mind doesn't embrace horror all that well so it is very uncomfortable to live with and talk about.

If it weren't for Mr. Z., I probably would have continued to get hurt or abused and because he protected me, those things did not repeat themselves. Tragically, I was still fired from jobs for doing nothing wrong and blackballed from earning a decent living after all of this. I went to teach in schools where I was continuously harassed and bullied by both teachers and students.

After what I've survived, that was devastating. But, I've hung in there through it all-through all of the pain of losing everyone and everything that mattered to me. I've gotten by on barely livable wages and was lucky if I had health insurance.

After I was assaulted and abused by a monster, my life fell apart and I had no one to turn to. So I fled to safety and tried to begin anew only to nearly perish by bath salts. Since the bath salts led me to Mr. Z, I've never been assaulted, drugged, abused or harmed. He has protected me from all of those things because no one else would and he knew if he didn't intervene that my chance of surviving wouldn't have been great.

I'm happy now and I know I'm safe. I continue to heal every day but the horrors have to be expressed. I can't pretend things didn't happen. I don't know why they happened every time but I've got good ideas as to why. What I really wish is that people be kind, loving, helpful and understanding. I don't need criticism, rejection or ostracization. I've done nothing to deserve any of that. And the most tragic part of all is that had I had the proper supports when I needed them, most of this could have been avoided and reclaimed a long time ago.

Those who currently surround the deserters and sit back and judge disgust me like viewing my survival from the pit of hell is something to be mocked. All I can say to that is, "How dare you! You couldn't have imagined 1/100th of what I have!" I have seen the ugliest and most despicable displays of supposed decent people.

Mr. Z. said to me,"I never want to see you like that again. " And neither do I. He took a woman he'd never met who had been broken down and robbed of every support imaginable and turned her into a woman who refused to cry or get defeated. That doesn't mean I don't feel pain or upset. But, I know that pain and upset won't divert me from doing what I need to do which is live my life despite what happened to me and those who've tried to silence me.

Every day I hope that the men who did this to me won't win in upsetting me or deviating us. I am afraid to go out sometimes as I have severe PTSD. As long as they are free, a part of me sits in tandem frightened wondering and afraid. I was so afraid to share what happened to me because I didn't want people to think that I would just allow things like that to happen. I could barely talk, how could I admit to the things that happened when I couldn't even cope with them?

I had never met someone who scared me to the point that I was sure I would be killed if I reported it or told the truth. Lastly, the fact that I'm writing my story down is all thanks to Mr. Z as well. From the start, he said to me,"write your story down." And he was right.