There’s a moment in many survivors’ healing journeys when the truth finally shatters through the lies. Not just the lies they were told—but the ones they had to believe to survive.
For me, that moment came when I realized the person who had tried to warn me, the one I didn’t believe, was never my enemy.
She was me—just a few chapters earlier.
This letter is for her.
📖 A Letter from One Survivor to Another
Dear J,
I owe you an apology—a deep, soul-level, heart-wrenching apology.
When you tried to warn me, I didn’t listen.
When you tried to show me the patterns, I turned away.
When you tried to protect me with your truth, I dismissed it as bitterness or jealousy.
But now I know.
Now I feel it in my bones, in my nervous system, in the flashbacks and the healing work and the slow reclaiming of my life…
You were telling the truth.
And I am so, so sorry I didn’t believe you.
🧠 Why I Couldn’t Hear You Then: The Psychology of Denial
In hindsight, I see now what I couldn’t then.
I see the web he spun around me—how expertly he used charm, guilt, pity, blame.
I see how he cast you as the “crazy ex,” how his family reinforced the script with nods and half-smiles and phrases like:
- “She was always difficult.”
- “She made his life hell.”
- “He’s just trying to move on.”
And I wanted to believe them. Because believing you meant confronting a reality I wasn’t yet ready for.
It meant admitting that the man I thought loved me was capable of emotional cruelty, manipulation, and eventually physical violence.
It meant realizing I wasn’t special—I was just the next one.
🧬 From a Neuroscience Perspective: Why Survivors Doubt Other Survivors
Our brains are wired to protect us, especially in early trauma bonding phases. When we fall under the spell of an abusive partner, our brain’s limbic system (emotion center) often overrules the prefrontal cortex (logic and reasoning).
In other words, I couldn’t hear you because my brain was hijacked.
I was under the influence of trauma bonding, dopamine hits from love-bombing, and the subtle erosion of my self-trust.
The truth would have short-circuited me.
So I did what many trauma survivors do: I pushed the truth away—until it came crashing through.
🌊 The Pain of Waking Up
Now, I look back on those conversations, the warning signs, the tears in your voice, and I weep.
Because you weren’t just warning me—you were reliving your own trauma to try and save me from mine.
And that is an act of courage I didn’t honor at the time.
But I honor it now.
You tried. And I see you.
I see the strength it took.
I see the cost of speaking your truth.
I see the loneliness of being the woman nobody wanted to believe.
You weren’t bitter. You were brave.
And I am sorry I didn’t stand beside you then.
💛 From Wounds to Wisdom
There’s a quiet sisterhood that forms between women who’ve survived the same storm.
We may have loved the same man, but what connects us isn’t him—it’s the truth we share.
I don’t need you to forgive me.
I just need you to know I believe you now.
And I’m using that belief to help others—to break the silence, to support survivors, and to say the words I once failed to speak:
“Listen to the first wife.”
“Believe the woman who left.”
“Her truth is not a threat. It’s a warning flare.”
🕯️ To Other Women Reading This
If you’re being warned by the woman who came before you, pause.
Ask yourself: what do you gain by dismissing her? And what might you lose by ignoring her truth?
You don’t have to hate him to hear her.
You don’t have to be ready to leave to listen.
But you do owe it to yourself to be curious—and cautious.
Sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is hear the hard truth… before it becomes our story too.
🖋️ Closing Words
To the woman I didn’t believe:
You were not lying.
You were not crazy.
You were not trying to ruin his life.
You were trying to save mine.
Thank you.
I’m sorry.
I believe you.
And I’ll never be silent again.
—
With healing and humility,
Linda C J Turner
Trauma Therapist | Emotional Recovery Specialist | Survivor | Advocate for Women’s Truth
