If He Gets to Rewrite the Story, So Do I

Because I’m done being the villain in a narrative I never agreed to.

He’s out there telling his version.

The one where I was cold.
Where I overreacted.
Where I gave up “for no reason.”
Where he “did everything he could” and I just walked away.

In his version, he’s the misunderstood man.

The patient one.
The “good dad.”
The one who tried.

And me?
I’m the bitter ex.
The ungrateful wife.
The unstable woman who ruined a perfectly good marriage.

Cool.

If he gets to rewrite the story to fit his ego,
Then I sure as hell get to tell the truth.

Let’s Be Real: It Was Never About the Truth, It Was About Control

Abusers don’t just control you, they control the narrative.

Especially once you leave.

Because once you walk away, the only thing they have left to manipulate is perception.

So they twist the story.
Remove context.
Edit out their abuse and amplify your reaction.
Turn your boundaries into betrayal.
Turn your trauma response into “crazy behavior.”

And suddenly you are the one who has to defend yourself.
You are the one people whisper about.
You are the one carrying shame for things you did to survive.

Not anymore.

His Version Wasn’t Just a Lie, It Was a Silencing

I wasn’t allowed to share the truth while I was still in it.

He’d say:

• “Don’t make me look bad.”

• “No one will believe you.”

• “You’re exaggerating again.”

• “You always twist things.”

So I stopped talking.
I shrank.
I internalized it.
And when I finally cracked, they called me unstable.

But here’s what I’ve learned since:

Silence protects abusers, not survivors.

So I’m done protecting him.

Here’s My Version of the Story

He didn’t love me.
He loved the control he had when I doubted myself.

He didn’t “lose me.”
He dismantled me, piece by piece, and I finally said, “Enough.”

He didn’t try to save the relationship.
He tried to save face.

He wasn’t confused. He was calculated.
He knew what he was doing.
And he did it anyway.

That’s my story.
And I don’t need anyone’s permission to tell it.

You’re Allowed to Tell the Truth About What Happened

You’re allowed to say:

• “He was abusive.”

• “I wasn’t crazy, I was traumatized.”

• “I wasn’t difficult, I was drowning.”

• “It didn’t fall apart. It was broken from the start and I finally stopped covering for it.”

Telling your story is not revenge.
It’s release.
It’s reclamation.
It’s saying: “This is what happened. And I’m done being quiet about it.”

You Don’t Owe Anyone a Polished Version of the Truth

You can be raw.
Messy.
Still healing.
Still shaking.

That doesn’t make your truth any less valid.

In fact, the shaking is proof that you’re telling a truth that used to cost you safety.

You don’t owe him protection.
You don’t owe your family comfort.
You don’t owe your social media a sanitized caption.

You owe yourself your voice back.

How to Rewrite the Story On Your Terms

1. Stop asking for permission to speak.

You’re not obligated to stay silent to keep the peace. That peace was never real if it required your erasure.

2. Speak from power, not pain.

Your story doesn’t have to be a breakdown. It can be a breakthrough. Share when it empowers you, not when it drains you.

3. Name what happened. Even if no one else does.

Was it emotional abuse? Narcissistic manipulation? Covert control? Name it. That clarity is yours.

4. Write the ending you never got.

He doesn’t get to have the last word. You do. Whether it’s in a journal, a blog post, a podcast, or a f*cking bestseller, tell it your way.

You’ve Got This and I’ve Got You

If he gets to rewrite the story and paint himself as the hero
Then I get to stand in my truth and tell the story of the woman who saved herself.

Let them gossip.
Let them speculate.
Let them read his version on Facebook.

I’m living the truth and that’s louder than any lie he’ll ever tell.

This is my life now.
It doesn’t require your approval.
It doesn’t ask for silence.

It asks for wholeness.
And I’m finally giving it to myself.

So if he gets to rewrite the story,
You better believe I do too.