My Story

Breaking the Silence: A Safe Space to Share and Heal

This is your safe space, and I believe the only way to achieve the comfort level needed to speak up is by starting with honesty—both mine and yours. My story is one of survival through the silent pain of narcissistic and physical abuse. By sharing it, I hope to create a community where no one feels alone in their struggles. Narcissistic abuse thrives in secrecy, feeding off isolation and self-doubt, but together we can break that cycle. Whether you’re just beginning to recognize the signs or already on the path to healing, know that your voice matters. You deserve to be heard, supported, and empowered to reclaim your strength. Let this be the start of a journey where we no longer suffer in silence but rise together, stronger than ever.

 

FOREVER 45

This morning wasn't supposed to happen.

There is something I have never told anyone.

Not my family.
Not my friends.
Not the people who wondered where I disappeared to over the past year.

Last year, two weeks after my youngest son and I moved into our rental, I made a decision.

I decided I would be Forever 45.

I had just left an abusive marriage and was trying to figure out how to rebuild a life I barely recognized.

But leaving wasn't the instant freedom people sometimes imagine.

By then, I was exhausted in ways I didn't know how to explain.

The year leading up to my divorce had already taken a lot out of me.

I had been diagnosed with pretty severe ADHD after spending most of my life not understanding why my brain worked the way it did.

Three months later, I had a hysterectomy.

I was dealing with fibromyalgia, and it worsening. 

I forgot things. Sometimes important things.

I was quiet. Moody. Overwhelmed.

And through all of it, I was desperately trying to be a good wife, a good mom, a good Nana, and everything else I thought everyone needed me to be.

Apparently, I wasn't doing a very good job of any of it.

At least that's what I had started believing.

Then my marriage ended.

And I didn't only lose a husband.

My oldest son decided I wasn't the kind of person he wanted in his life anymore.

With him, I lost my three grandchildren and my daughter-in-law too.

There is a particular kind of grief that comes with loving people who are still alive but no longer part of your life.

I didn't know what to do with that grief.

I didn't know what to do with any of it.

So two weeks after moving into our new home, I quietly made a plan.

I gave myself one more year.

I would use that year to get everything in order.

I would make sure my youngest son would be okay without me.

I would take care of whatever needed to be taken care of.

And on the night of my 45th birthday, I planned to end my life.

The note would contain two words:

Forever 45

Nobody knew.

And while I was making that decision, something else happened.

That very same day, a man messaged me about something I had listed for sale on Facebook Marketplace.

Except, as I later learned, he wasn't particularly interested in what I was selling.

He wanted an excuse to talk to me.

Today, he's my boyfriend. My incredibly patient, understanding, and kind boyfriend.

He had absolutely no idea that he had wandered into my life on the same day I had privately decided when I was going to leave it.

Neither did I.

And somewhere between that first message and this morning, something happened that I never accounted for in my plan.

I started living again.


THE YEAR I “TOOK OFF”

I know people wonder where I went.

I'm sure people speculated.

I stopped showing up to holidays.

I missed family events.

I pulled away from friends and people I loved.

Most of the time, I stayed at my boyfriend's house instead of going home. Because I could more or less forget what I was going through when I was there. Or at least it wasn't directly in front of my face. Constantly reminding me of everything.

Did I handle everything perfectly?

No.

Would I make every decision exactly the same way today?

Probably not.

Maybe people were hurt by my absence.

Maybe people thought I was selfish.

Maybe they thought I had replaced my family.

Maybe they thought I didn't care.

Whatever.

Because there was something they couldn't possibly have known.

I had given myself an expiration date.

While other people were wondering why I wasn't showing up for my life, I was privately trying to find a reason to stay in it.

They weren't inside that marriage.

They didn't live through what happened behind those closed doors.

They weren't trying to understand what years of fear, control and abuse had done to me.

They didn't lose my son.

They didn't lose my grandchildren.

They weren't trying to navigate ADHD, a hysterectomy, fibromyalgia, divorce, trauma, grief and the collapse of the life they thought they were going to have.

They saw my absence.

They didn't know what was underneath it.

And here's something I've finally realized:

I don't have to hate myself for how I survived it.

I can acknowledge that my disappearing affected other people.

I can acknowledge that I didn't handle everything perfectly.

And I can still give myself compassion for the woman who was doing the best she could with a life that had become unbearably heavy.

For a little while, I couldn't be everything to everybody.

I couldn't be the friend, daughter, sister, mother, Nana or whatever else I thought I was supposed to be.

For a little while, I needed to simply be Heidi.

And Heidi needed help.

She needed counseling.

She needed quiet.

She needed sleep.

She needed somewhere she felt safe.

She needed someone who could sit beside her without demanding that she hurry up and become okay.

She needed to stop performing.

She needed time.

So I took it.

Maybe from the outside it looked like I disappeared.

But inside that little bubble I had created, something was changing.

I started sleeping.

I started laughing.

I started learning.

I started understanding what had happened to me.

I started figuring out who I was when I wasn't constantly trying to manage someone else's emotions.

I started Divine Chaos.

I began telling pieces of a story I once planned to take to my grave.

I found purpose inside things I had spent years carrying with shame.

And somewhere during the year I had intended to be my last...

I healed enough to want another one.


THE MORNING AFTER 45

Yesterday was my 45th birthday.

According to the plan I made a year ago, there wasn't supposed to be a September 2nd for me.

This morning wasn't supposed to happen.

But it did.

I opened my eyes.

I was still here.

And my first realization was incredibly simple:

I'm not mad that I woke up.

Maybe somebody reading this understands just how enormous those words are.

I'm not saying everything is fixed.

It isn't.

There are relationships I still grieve.

There are grandchildren I desperately miss.

There is one I hope someday I finally get to meet.

There are things I wish I could change.

There are mistakes I've made.

There are people who may never understand my choices.

There are parts of myself I'm still learning to understand and forgive.

But I'm happy.

Actually happy.

Not pretending-for-the-picture happy.

Not convincing-everyone-everything-is-fine happy.

Not walking-on-eggshells-but-smiling-anyway happy.

Just...

happy.

And that feels almost unbelievable to say.

A year ago, I thought the greatest thing I could do for my youngest son was spend twelve months preparing him for a life without me.

Today I understand something very different.

Maybe the greatest thing I can give him is the chance to watch his mom learn how to live.

So today, I'm retiring Forever 45.

Those words were supposed to be my ending.

I'm taking them back.

Now they will remind me of the birthday when I reached the ending I had secretly written for myself...

and decided I wasn't finished.

I don't know exactly what the next chapter looks like.

For once, I don't need to.

I'm here to find out.

And maybe that's what this entire year really was.

Maybe I didn't disappear from my life.

Maybe I disappeared long enough to find my way back to it.

Yesterday I turned 45.

Today I woke up.

And I'm really, really glad there was a morning after 45.

πŸ–€


This is Divine Chaos.

It isn't always a phoenix exploding out of the ashes feeling powerful.

Sometimes rising is much quieter than that.

Sometimes RISE is surviving something nobody else knows you're surviving.

Sometimes it's withdrawing while your nervous system finally learns what safety feels like.

Sometimes it's going to counseling.

Sometimes it's sleeping.

Sometimes it's letting somebody love you while you're still learning how to love yourself.

And sometimes...

rising is simply opening your eyes one morning and realizing:

I think I'd like to stay.

SURVIVE → UNDERSTAND → HEAL → RECLAIM → RISE

Welcome to Divine Chaos.

Together, we #RISEUnbreakable. πŸ–€

OCTOBER IS DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AWARENESS MONTH πŸ’œ

Behind Closed Doors: The Abuse You Don't See

By the Founder of Divine Chaos | October 2026

Some of the most dangerous people in our lives are the ones who promise to protect us.

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. A month when we wear purple, share statistics, post inspirational quotes, and encourage survivors to speak up.

But I want to talk about what happens when October ends.

Because for someone living with domestic violence, awareness isn't confined to 31 days.

It's every morning they wake up wondering what kind of mood their partner will be in.

It's every conversation they rehearse before speaking.

It's every unexplained bruise, every sleepless night, every apology for something they didn't do.

And sometimes, it's staring down the barrel of a gun held by someone who just told them they were loved.

I know. Because I've been that woman.

The Face of Domestic Violence Doesn't Always Look Like What You Expect

When people hear the words domestic violence, they often picture bruises, broken bones, and black eyes.

But abuse doesn't always announce itself with a fist.

Sometimes it begins with overwhelming affection, promises of forever, and someone who seems almost too good to be true.

Then, little by little, things change.

The criticism starts. Your friendships become a problem. Your family becomes the enemy. Your independence becomes a threat.

You start questioning your memory, your judgment, your worth.

Eventually, you find yourself apologizing just to keep the peace.

And before you realize what's happened, you've become a stranger to yourself.

That's the part of abuse people don't talk about enough.

The slow, deliberate erosion of someone's confidence, independence, and sense of reality.

When Your Body Survives What Your Mind Can't Understand

Psychological abuse isn't just words.

Living in prolonged fear can have serious consequences for your mental and physical health.

Chronic traumatic stress can affect sleep, concentration, memory, emotional regulation, and the body's stress-response systems.

Some survivors experience persistent pain, exhaustion, anxiety, depression, or symptoms associated with post-traumatic stress.

And sometimes, even after leaving, their bodies continue reacting as though danger is right around the corner.

A slammed door.

An unexpected raised voice.

A particular smell.

A certain tone.

Things that seem insignificant to someone else can send a survivor right back into survival mode.

Leaving the abuse doesn't automatically mean your nervous system knows you're safe.

And healing isn't as simple as deciding to move on.

You Can't Scare a Woman Who Has Already Faced Death

I've had a gun held to my head more times than I can count.

By someone who was supposed to love me.

Someone who made promises, shared a home with me, and was supposed to be my safe place.

There are experiences that change the way you see everything.

They change how you trust.

How you sleep.

How you react.

How you love.

And how you survive.

People sometimes see a survivor after they've escaped and wonder why they aren't the same person anymore.

Because surviving something like that changes you.

But here's something I've learned:

Being changed doesn't mean being defeated.

I'm not the woman I was before the abuse.

And I'm learning that I don't have to be.

The Question That Needs to Change

One of the most frustrating things survivors hear is:

"Why didn't you just leave?"

As though leaving is as simple as packing a bag and walking out the door.

As though there aren't threats, financial barriers, children, isolation, fear, and the very real possibility of violence escalating when someone attempts to escape.

The better question is:

"Why did someone who claimed to love you believe they had the right to hurt you?"

We spend far too much time examining survivors' decisions and not nearly enough examining abusers' behavior.

Domestic violence isn't a relationship problem.

It's a pattern of power, control, intimidation, and abuse.

And the responsibility belongs to the person choosing to cause harm.

What Happens After You Leave?

This is the chapter nobody prepares you for.

The silence after the chaos.

The guilt.

The grief.

The anger.

The confusion of missing someone who hurt you.

The realization that you spent years trying to survive instead of actually living.

And sometimes, the heartbreak of discovering how many relationships, opportunities, and pieces of yourself were lost along the way.

There was a time in my own journey when I couldn't imagine a future worth looking forward to.

I had escaped the relationship, but I was still carrying the weight of everything that happened.

I was physically free, but emotionally, I was still fighting to survive.

What I've learned since then is that healing rarely happens in a straight line.

Some days you feel unstoppable.

Other days, getting out of bed is the victory.

Both count.

And neither determines your worth.

October Awareness Means More Than Wearing Purple

Purple ribbons matter. Awareness campaigns matter. Sharing survivor stories matters.

But awareness without action isn't enough.

This October, I challenge you to do more than change your profile picture.

  • Believe survivors, even when their stories are complicated or uncomfortable.

  • Stop asking why they stayed. Start understanding what made leaving dangerous.

  • Recognize psychological and financial abuse, not just physical violence.

  • Respect survivors' timelines. Healing and leaving don't happen on anyone else's schedule.

  • Offer support without judgment. Sometimes knowing someone will listen can change everything.

And please, check on the people who always seem strong.

Sometimes they're the ones fighting the hardest battles behind closed doors.

To the Woman Who Is Still Living It

I want you to hear something I desperately needed someone to tell me.

You are not crazy.

You're not too sensitive.

You're not responsible for someone else's violence.

You do not deserve to be threatened, controlled, humiliated, or made to fear for your life.

And you don't have to prove how much you've suffered to deserve help.

I won't tell you to just leave, because I know it's not that simple.

But I will tell you this:

There is life beyond the abuse.

There is laughter that doesn't come with consequences.

There is love that doesn't require fear.

There are mornings when you can wake up without wondering what you've done wrong.

There is peace.

And you deserve every bit of it.

Why Divine Chaos Exists

Divine Chaos wasn't born from a perfect life.

It was born from surviving one that nearly destroyed me.

From learning to rebuild after years of manipulation, violence, and fear.

From discovering that even when everything feels shattered, something beautiful can still grow from the wreckage.

I created Divine Chaos because I never want another survivor to feel as alone as I once did.

This is a place to speak the uncomfortable truths.

To understand the effects of abuse.

To support one another without judgment.

To reclaim our identities.

And to remind every survivor that their story doesn't have to end where the abuse did.

We are not defined by what was done to us.

We are defined by the courage it takes to keep going, even when nobody sees the battle.

This October, I'm not just wearing purple.

I'm speaking for the woman I used to be.

For the woman who is still afraid to speak.

For the woman planning her escape.

For the woman who left but is still learning how to live.

And for every survivor who didn't get the chance to tell her story.

WE HEAL LOUDLY BECAUSE WE ALMOST DIED IN SILENCE.

And together, we rise.

Not because the past didn't hurt.

Not because the scars disappeared.

But because what happened to us does not get to decide the rest of our lives.

This is Divine Chaos.

Where survivors become sisters, hope becomes strength, and healing becomes a revolution.

Together, we are #RISEUnbreakable. πŸ’œπŸ”₯

 


 

You Are Not Alone. Help Is Available.

If you or someone you love is experiencing domestic violence, confidential support is available.

National Domestic Violence Hotline

Call: 800-799-SAFE (7233)

Text: START to 88788

Website: thehotline.org

Advocates can help you explore your options and create a personalized safety plan, whether you're ready to leave or not.

If you're in immediate danger, call 911 when it is safe to do so.

If someone monitors your phone or internet activity, consider using a safer device to seek help.

Divine Chaos | Unmask the Dark Reality of Domestic Abuse

🌐 divinechaos.net

#DomesticViolenceAwarenessMonth #DivineChaos #RISEUnbreakable #SurvivorStrong #BreakTheSilence #CoerciveControl #HealingAfterAbuse

My Story

For most of my life, I became really good at pretending.

Pretending everything was okay.
Pretending my smile was real.
Pretending the bruises didn't hurt.
Pretending the fear wasn't there.
Pretending I had the perfect marriage.

If you had looked at my social media, you probably would've thought I had it all.

Family photos.
Anniversary posts.
Vacations.
Holidays.
New house.
Gifts.
Laughter.

The truth lived behind closed doors.

It took me nearly four decades to realize that abuse doesn't always begin with a black eye.

Sometimes it begins with a pen.


Learning What Love Wasn't

Fresh out of high school, I met my first "real" boyfriend.

One afternoon, while I was on the phone interviewing for a management position, he became angry that my attention wasn't on him.

Without saying much, he grabbed an ink pen and began digging it into my skin, writing obscenities so hard they left raised welts. He knew I couldn't react without the interviewer asking questions.

So I smiled.

I answered interview questions.

I pretended nothing was happening.

That relationship ended after another phone call.

I was trying to figure out why I couldn't access money at the bank when he repeatedly punched my arm because I wasn't paying attention to him.

I wish I could say I recognized the warning signs after that.

I didn't.


Different Faces of Abuse

Over the next several years, I married twice.

Each relationship taught me another version of abuse.

One husband cheated, lied, manipulated me, and eventually walked away from our son.

The next controlled nearly every aspect of my life.

How long I could be at the store.

Where I went.

Who I saw.

How money was spent.

I learned to calculate every minute, every word, every decision before making it.

One night, after CPS had already become involved because of his anger, I lay awake with a knife hidden beneath my pillow.

Not because I wanted to hurt anyone.

Because I didn't know if I'd survive the night.

When he came downstairs and asked why my bedroom door wasn't locked, I told him my boys were sleeping just across the living room. If they needed me, I wanted them to be able to reach me.

He looked at me and calmly said,

"I could've come down here, slit your throat, and thought nothing of it."

Not long after that, I filed for divorce.

I thought I'd finally escaped.

I hadn't.


The Man I Thought Saved Me

On December 18, 2017, I met the man who would become my third husband.

He felt different.

He was kind.

Attentive.

Generous.

He loved my boys like they were his own.

I loved his daughter.

For the first time, I believed I'd finally found the relationship I'd been searching for.

Today I know what it was called.

Love bombing.

The vacations.

The gifts.

The constant affection.

The promises.

They weren't the foundation of a healthy relationship.

They were the bait.

Little by little, the control began.

Then came the isolation.

The financial abuse.

The manipulation.

The gaslighting.

Eventually...

The violence.


Living on Eggshells

People often ask why victims don't leave.

The better question is:

How do you recognize you're living in danger when danger slowly becomes your normal?

Abuse rarely begins with punches.

It begins with criticism.

Control.

Fear.

Walking on eggshells.

Wondering whether today is going to be a good day or a bad day.

Learning to read facial expressions before speaking.

Changing your personality just to avoid another argument.

Before long, you don't even recognize yourself anymore.

I didn't.


The Marriage No One Saw

To everyone else, we looked happy.

We celebrated anniversaries.

Posted smiling pictures.

Bought a home.

Went on vacations.

Behind those photos were moments I'll never forget.

Being hit.

Being choked.

Having a gun shoved into my mouth.

Having a loaded gun pressed against my head.

Being told I wouldn't survive if I ever left.

Being expected to continue pretending everything was normal after the violence stopped.

I became an expert at hiding my reality.

Even the people closest to me had no idea what was happening.


The Year Everything Fell Apart

Then came 2024.

Within a matter of months, I was diagnosed with ADHD after spending most of my life wondering why my brain worked differently.

I underwent a hysterectomy in December that threw my hormones into chaos.

My fibromyalgia worsened.

I was desperately trying to repair my relationship with my oldest son.

And while I was carrying all of that...

In July of 2025, My husband quietly decided he was done.

One week before my son's wedding, he told me he wanted a divorce.

He never wanted to talk.

Never wanted to work through anything.

He had already made his decision.

I attended my son's wedding alone.

Four days later, divorce papers were handed to me.

For the first time in years...

I felt relief.

Because I realized something.

I no longer wondered if I was going to leave that marriage in a body bag.

I was finally walking away on my own two feet.


Finding My Voice

Two weeks after being served divorce papers, my youngest son and I moved into what we now call our Healing Haven.

I had already started counseling because I knew I had lost myself.

I hated the woman I had become.

Not because I was broken.

Because surviving had changed me.

Week after week, I slowly found pieces of myself again.

My confidence returned.

My laughter returned.

My peace returned.

For the first time in decades...

I could sleep.

Not because life suddenly became easy.

But because my body finally believed I was safe.


Why I Created Divine Chaos

For years, I planned to take my story to the grave.

I was embarrassed.

Ashamed.

I worried people would never believe me because I had hidden it so well.

Then something changed.

I realized my silence only protected the people who hurt me.

It never protected me.

Today, I refuse to let shame write the ending of my story.

I share my experiences because I know there are women lying awake tonight wondering if what they're experiencing is really abuse.

There are women blaming themselves for someone else's choices.

There are women who believe they're too broken to heal.

I want them to know what I needed someone to tell me:

It wasn't your fault.

You are not weak.

You are not crazy.

You are not alone.

And healing is possible.


Welcome to Divine Chaos

Divine Chaos was born from pain, but it exists because of hope.

This isn't just a website.

It's a community.

A place to learn.

A place to heal.

A place to find resources.

A place to tell your story when you're ready.

Or simply to sit quietly and know someone understands.

Whether you're still surviving, planning your escape, or rebuilding your life after abuse...

You belong here.


The Divine Chaos Promise

When you feel broken, we'll remind you of your strength.

When you feel alone, we'll remind you that you belong.

When you forget your worth, we'll remind you who you are.

Because healing isn't meant to happen in isolation.

Here, survivors become sisters.

Hope becomes strength.

And every new day is another chance to rise.

Welcome to Divine Chaos.

Together, we #RISEUnbreakable.

Our story

We are a dedicated team committed to crafting exceptional experiences. Our focus lies in providing reliable and innovative solutions, driven by a deep respect for quality and a genuine desire to exceed expectations.

Our history

From modest beginnings, we've grown through unwavering dedication and a commitment to continuous improvement. Each step has reinforced our core belief in the power of collaboration and the importance of integrity. We're passionate about what we do, and we're excited to share our story with you.