Two Years Until the Truth

My smile is real. But it’s only a fragment of my story.
It’s learned to take center stage—the part the world most easily accepts.
As any survivor knows, not everyone can hear your story.
Don’t stop sharing it. Just find the ones who can hold space for it.

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It’s been a wild week.

More than two years after a crime was committed against me, the other party has finally been found guilty—not even found guilty, but pleaded guilty.

Two years.

In that time, I have been accused in court records more than a dozen times of being “vindictive,” “adversarial,” “high-conflict,” and more—simply for defending my rights and trying to hold the perpetrator accountable.

I thought I would feel validated when justice came.
Instead, I felt numb.

My mind told me this was good news—proof that what I had endured was real.
But my body didn’t believe it. My nervous system didn’t suddenly feel safe just because the words “guilty plea” were entered into the record.

Violation—and the intense gaslighting, ongoing harassment, manipulation, and retaliation cloaked in legal filings and loopholes that followed for years—cannot be swept away with a single plea. Especially when that plea carries little consequence.

At present, despite a guilty plea, there is no one who is prosecuting this crime. 

The perpetrator walks freely, living life as though nothing ever happened.

I, meanwhile, am still carrying tens of thousands of dollars in debt for costs I had to incur to defend myself against the very acts that have now been admitted as crimes.
​And I carry other debts too—the ones no court can measure. The memories that live in my body, the nervous system that still braces for impact, the echoes that take time to quiet.

That is all I will say, for now, about the incident itself.

But I will say this:

Healing doesn’t begin when justice is served—it begins when we choose to reclaim our power, even when the system fails to protect us.

It took two years of standing in my truth—of holding my power, trusting my knowing, and staying rooted in my spiritual practice—before that truth was finally acknowledged. This moment isn’t just about a single win; it’s about the strength it takes to stand firm in what you know is right, even when others try to extinguish your light.

Because this isn’t just my story—it’s one of countless others.

Every time a survivor speaks, another crack forms in the silence that protects abusers and a system that so often looks the other way.

This is why we need to keep telling our stories.

I’ve walked this path—through disbelief and denial, through long nights of doubt and the small, steady steps back toward truth.

And now, I walk beside other women as they find their way through the darkness too—reminding them that healing is possible, justice can take many forms, and their voice matters.

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✨ If this story resonates with you, share it. Speak your truth. Or reach out if you need a hand finding your way forward—you don’t have to walk this alone. 🫶

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With love and deep gratitude to walk alongside you,
💖 Natasha 
Divorce Doula • Artist • Survivor • Advocate
​Certified High-Conflict Divorce Coach • Reiki Master • Educator