💥 duty → 💥 breach → 💥 causation → 💥💥💥 damages 💵💰💳

imagine this:
i just delivered,
head covered in bruises,
c-section still freshly bleeding,
and a financial rep
is in my condo
holding my newborn
like an anti-trophy wife audition—
while running my money
through her wannabe office-boyfriend,
drafting policies in his name,
while he’s unemployed,
draining my fucking accounts,
and cutting me out—
the actual payor—
out of
my own
baby’s life insurance
(!!!!!!!)

yo.

that’s not “bad optics.”
that’s fucking fraud.
baby, that’s punitive territory.

they:

ㄨ pushed e-sigs while i was in the ER
ㄨ billed me for policies they knew were already invalid
ㄨ rewrote beneficiaries to my abuser’s estate without notice while i was under FRO
ㄨ told me “we’ll make sure you’re paid up” five days after my policy flatlined
ㄨ took my bank details and still didn’t update my active policy
ㄨ gagged their own reps once i asked questions
ㄨ and then had the balls to call it “reasonable administration.”

no, babe.
it’s called theft.
and i have the invoices,
the ACH pulls,
the emails,
the lapse dates—
all of it.

💀 the receipts aren’t vibes.
they’re blood-stained policy numbers.
they’re compliance failures
stamped with my abuse timeline.
they’re policy correspondences,
i never fucking had.

click the link
to see the
legal fucking timeline:

👉 the paper trail

because
nah—

you don’t
get to fuck me over,
steal my money,
and hand
my baby’s life policy
to a potential fucking felon
that refuses to respond—
(because you actually let that
shit intentionally lapse)
and then act like
i’m the crazy one.

lol.

no.
you’re the fraud.
and i’m the fucking reckoning.

✶

💸🤑💰

jess; my former nm financial rep—please stop stalking me 🍳🔥💀

i’m serious.
please stop.

it’s fucking frightening.
i am still unclear
if you are
currently
in contact
with my
estranged
out on felony-bond
legal husband
/ baby daddy
(!!!!!!)

✶

yo—
what are you doing?
you don’t want him.
you want to be me.
and that’s why
you’re fucking dangerous.

👤🌳👀❤️‍🔥🔪

bro.
this isn’t about “jealousy.”
it’s about a pattern of stalking
tied directly to an active criminal case.

💀

girl.
be
so
fucking
serious.

imagine “allegedly”
being 33 years old
and still stalking your
married coworker’s wife
from your personal account
with your whole ass face
and name… 👀👤

(for real, are you ok?)

babe,
while you’re in a lawsuit.
while he’s under felony bond.
after you were confirmed
to have a conflict of interest,
by your own co-worker.
then you deleted
your whole online identity…
but kept TikTok
because you physically
cannot stop watching me. 👀

bro.
this chick is fucking scary.

like what,
the fuck?

what level of
“zero consequences ever”
is this shit?

girl.
i don’t even know you.
i legit never cared about you.
i still don’t,
besides—
i’m pretty sure you
fucked me over.
listen—
you were just
”ALLEGEDLY”
a creepy financial girlie
with a series 6,
a bad LinkedIn photo,
and a water bottle
covered in
millennial affirmations.
babe, just some
financial compliance pick-me
with a sad little office cubicle
and a daddy
who bought you
the slight cut of attention
you actually got from men.
this tragic “financial rep”
with a front-row seat
to a man ruining my life
while i grew his first child.

🎓 but ok.
since you like watching,
let me teach you—

what it means
when a woman your age is ”allegedly” ⚡

✦ using her real name and face
to stalk someone she potentially defrauded

✦ showing up after being publicly exposed

✦ still watching, even after
being tagged, posted, and dragged

✦ clearly aware her presence
is visible, unwanted and documented

✦ refusing to disengage while her codefendant
is under a court order not to contact me, wow—

nah, like
jesus fucking christ—

✘ you’re not just reckless.
✘ you’re not just unethical.
✘ you’re fucking committed.

yo.

✘ that’s clinical.
✘ that’s obsession.
✘✘✘ that’s fucking scary.

💀 for real
this isn’t about “him” anymore; (allegedly)

i mean shit—
you don’t want
my husband.
babe,
you want to be me.
you want to be
the one
with the kid.
with the baddie timeline,
the survivor arc,
my fucking power.
you want to
prove
to yourself
that you weren’t potentially*
the cubicle std waiting to happen;
with a constantly declining facecard—
by becoming “the next wife.” 💀

purely speculation.

bro.

🥀🪦⚰️

yo,
this is truly
scary levels of delusion.

😵‍💫💥💀

here’s the thing:

i never even considered
you the side chick.
because we all know,
if he did you like that?
yo.
then my dude—
most certainly was “doing”
fucking everyone.
you were unneeded collateral.
an annoying prop.
an extra in a man’s deception
while he was ruining my life.
bro.
i truly thought you were
an actual financial professional—
i’m deadass.
and now you’ve made yourself
the sad joke
of a whole ass lawsuit
by refusing
to log the fuck off.

🚨 what this really means:

dude.
a random-ass chick who had
professional level access
to my husband,
my baby,
my money,
my medical files,
and my fucking home—
will not fucking stop monitoring me.

🤯 you’re not innocent—
because innocent women
don’t behave like this.

🤯 you’re not scared—
because scared people
stop watching
when they’re caught.

🤯 you’re not stable—
because normal people
don’t delete everything
but keep the stalker app open.

🤯💀 and you’re not gonna win—
because i have every fucking record.

my severely delulu girlie, 🕯️🙏
what you doing is fucking weird.
i really need you to disengage with me
and let your attorney fight your battles,
you had a chance to clarify,
you had a chance to explain,
you chose to run and hide.
you weren’t “trying to help him.”
you were trying to be me.
and now you're just
a named defendant
in a case built on
everything you thought
i wouldn't find out.

final psa for anyone watching:

if you’re still watching
the girl your “co-worker” abused…
you’re not just complicit.
you’re a fucking problem.
and you’re fucking dangerous.
especially when
she’s filing court motions
and you’re still refreshing her page
like you’re a fucking weirdo addict.

so go ahead.
keep viewing.
every tap,
every login,
every username swap—
goes straight in the log.
and the log?
goes straight to the courts.

🍳🔥💀 (cooked)

final math:

⚠️ she isn’t random.
she’s tied to my finances,
my marriage,
and my lawsuit.
she’s not a stranger
watching out of boredom—
she’s someone with a direct,
dangerous stake in my life.

⚠️ she won’t disengage.
even after being exposed,
named, and dragged into court,
she’s still here.
that’s not curiosity.
that’s fixation.

⚠️ she mirrors classic
high-risk DV dynamics.
when abusers
can’t reach you directly,
they use proxies
(new partners, coworkers, family).
her behavior—
still showing up, still circling—
is part of that ecosystem.

⚠️ she’s unpredictable.
deleting all socials
but keeping the one where
she is visible is not normal.
it’s a control play:
“yes, i’m watching,
and you can’t stop me.”
that’s intimidation in digital form.

so nah,
this ain’t crazy.

✘ she’s behaving in ways
that threat-assessment experts
flag as danger escalation.

✘ documenting her is not petty—
it’s protective evidence.

✘ my fear = data.

✘ most victims
dismiss their instincts
until something happens.
i’m not going to do that.

✂️

i promise you,
this is how
actual bad bitches
fight back
when the creepy chick
turns full fucking stalker.

🕊️💣✨

your response didn’t even try. was this like—quasi pro bono?

was this paid work?
(aka exhibit a in why i had to sue,
straight out of their own emails)

exhibit a: the “yo katie, stfu”
they really filed: “no legal duty.”
meanwhile the emails i attached
in the goddamn complaint
(files, jan 2025–jun 2025)
show denver compliance
snatching my file on 6/18/25 +
literally telling my advisor
not to respond.
and their own answer admits:
my advisor was/ is
the servicing rep,
and i own + pay
the current child policy.

you don’t get to
cut out my direct line,
seize control,
admit you’re on the call—
then file
“we weren’t even here.”
my attachments
already ate
that contradiction
alive.

??

exhibit b: the bill
their answer claims
“reasonable administration.”
but the files
already show
payment drafts +
hidden beneficiary changes
reminders in jan–feb 2025,
while i was locked out
of my account +
then routed away
from my advisor.

reasonable where?
my exhibits
literally prove
they were charging
the card
while blocking the door.
that’s not administration,
that’s extortion babe.

exhibit c: the shield
their favorite line:
“independent contractor.”
in our corporate logo polos.
LMFAO.
except the exhibits
i filed prove
network-office affiliation,
compliance directives,
and routing through corporate.

that’s control.
not independent,
not freelance,
not fucking cute.
courts call it
“apparent agency.”
i call it:
puppet strings
in a bad business suit.

closing argument:
the files already answered
the questions
they’re pretending
don’t exist.
they controlled the channel.
they billed the account.
they managed the file.

now they want to
shrug “no duty”? lol.
babe,
the contradiction
is already in evidence.
and it’s civil court,
not open mic night
bad insurance satire edition.

✶ commentary based
on their filed answer (8/29/25) +
my own files (complaint + exhibits).

why i fuck with republicans— fairly hard 🫡

i know,
i know.
pick your fucking jaw
off the floor,
babe.

hear me out.

🇺🇸

first,
all my cards on the table:
i’m a thousand-percent
progressive.
i want
healthcare,
housing,
schools,
and gun safety
that actually work.
i want women + kids +
survivors + workers protected
with bills,
not vibes.
i want systems
that stop
eating people a-fucking-live.

and still—
i fuck with republicans.
fairly hard.
here’s the part
some of y’all
pretend not to understand:

1) politics is a full-time phd brain melt

like any science,
political science
is a hydra.
you don’t
“get it” once.
you wrestle it
forever.
i have the gov degree.
i’m in law school.
it’s still
complicated as fuck.

so spare me
the bullshit certainty.
most people
are doing fucking triage
with limited time,
limited info,
and unlimited
fucking costs.
respect that.

2) language is code.
and liberals love a private speech.

we’ve done
a dogshit job
educating this country,
yes.
but people
aren’t dumb—
they’re decoding
survival at scale.

when your “movement”
talks like a white paper
ate a fucking thesaurus,
you’re not being smarter.
you’re being fucking inaccessible.
if your code
only compiles
for grad seminars,
your coalition is five people
and a fucking notepad.
say it plain fucking english
or enjoy losing,
repeatedly.

3) identity ≠ ideology
(and environment is a mother)

people don’t vote
like textbooks.
they vote like families,
towns,
traumas,
churches,
paychecks,
and timelines.
i’ve met republicans
who are absolute angels—
faith-driven,
show-up-with-a-truck-
and-a-check kind of angels.
got a fucking gun.
i’ve met liberals
who ghost when it’s time
to carry a fucking box,
hold a baby,
or sign their goddamn name.
and i’m not saying
every conservative
is a saint
or every progressive
is a fucking clown.
i’m saying labels
are the worst predictors
of basic character.

4) dehumanization is lazy politics

the more you
other people
without speaking to them,
the more you
guarantee
you’ll never build anything
beyond your own homies.
call people in.
ask hard questions.
fucking listen to them.
break bread,
not bones.
you don’t have to
abandon your values
to talk to your neighbors.
you do have to
grow the fuck up.

5) what i respect in republicans (yes, i said it)

plain talk.
fewer TED-talk riddles,
more
“here’s the problem,
here’s the plan.”

duty brain.
a belief—sometimes
corny as hell,
often useful—
that you owe
your people something.

mutual aid
without the hashtag.
church ladies
feeding families
before any grant clears.

boundaries.
not every line
is “violence.”
some lines are just…
fucking lines.

none of this means
i co-sign cruelty,
culture-war idiot shit,
or punching down.
miss me with that.
i’m not trading
rights for vibes.

6) what i expect from liberals (and don’t always get)

material help.
show up,
not just “signal.”

clarity.
if your idea
needs a footnote forest,
rewrite it, dipshit.

courage.
real stakes,
real risk,
not just fucking
tik-toks or
retweets.

accountability.
if your “values”
evaporate when
it’s inconvenient,
you don’t have values.
you have branding.

7) both things are true

i can fight
for progressive policy
every damn day
and still say,
with my whole little chest:
some of the most decent,
save-your-ass humans
i’ve had
were republican.
some of the slimiest,
performative “allies”
were liberal.
if that sentence
fried your brain,
go outside
and touch a voter.

8) what i’m actually loyal to

outcomes over aesthetics.
did we feed the kid
or just draft
a mission statement?

truth in short words.
say the hard thing
fucking plainly.

who shows up.
i measure you
by the ride or die,
not the bumper sticker.

no cruelty.
non-negotiable.
if your politics requires
a target
to feel alive,
that’s not policy—
that’s a personality disorder.

9) coalition > cult

if the goal
is a country that functions,
then the assignment
is coalition,
not cult purity.
coalition means
you will not love
every hymn
in the fucking hymnal.
cool.
sing the ones
that keep people
breathing.

10) receipts from my life

i’ve watched church folks
move like first responders
before the state
remembered our names.
i’ve watched “progressives”
duck out
when the asks got real.
i’ve seen “feminist” men
put hands on women
while tweeting
liberation fucking poetry.
in my world,
the republican aunties
brought cookies
and court rides.
that counts.

—

so yeah:
i’m progressive as hell.
and i fuck with
good republicans—
the ones who show up,
speak straight,
and defend the vulnerable
in goddamn practice,
not performance.

if that offends you,
ask yourself
why you need
the fucking costume
more than the courage.

quote me on it.
and while you’re at it,
show up with a truck.

🫡

x

dear defense: please explain the vibes under oath 🕊️💣✨

disclaimer: this is my opinion/commentary,
based on the defendants’ filed answer
and my own saved communications/records.
i’m asking questions
i expect counsel to address in court.

dear counsel for ms. tenenbaum, 🥺❤️‍🩹🕊️

first off—
i just wanna say,
bro, i’m sorry.

💔

no,
really.
i am so deeply,
profoundly,
legally,
cosmically sorry
that you are the one
who now has to defend
a financial professional
whose actions—as reflected
in my records and their answer—
look, to me, like they created conflicts
and compliance issues…
with nada documentation—
(i haven’t seen that shit)
that fixes them.

😔

damn, like—
you were probably just out here
tryna write clean motions 🥺
and bill your hours in peace 🕊️—
and now you’re left holding
the ethics grenade
in professional audacity. 💣✨

🥺👉🏼👈🏼

so,
here are the questions
i’m putting on the record:

1. account deletion:
   why was
   her social media account
   deleted after
   i publicly disclosed
   and saved
   off-channel messages
   regarding a potential ira rollover?

2. money flows:
   did she send money
   to my spouse
   while i was pregnant/hospitalized
   and signing insurance paperwork?

   if yes,
   how was that not
   a material conflict
   that needed disclosure?

3. office “bestie” label:
   did she refer to herself as his “sheriff”
   during the same period
   i documented
   financial/emotional abuse
   by him?

   if yes, where are the
   conflict checks
   and supervision notes?

4. client contact:
   if my name appears on
   life-insurance documents
   and i was signing/paying,
   why did she interact
   around our newborn
   but never contact me
   professionally or personally—
   (besides insta DM’s)
   as the paying consumer?

5. escalation/compliance:
   after my public dv notices,
   what escalation,
   documentation,
   or supervision occurred?
   if none, why not?

6. inducement/reliance:
   given the above,
   why wouldn’t her role
   be viewed
   as inducing my reliance
   and contributing
   to my financial harm?

like i said… i am sorry.

this isn’t
“oops, she forgot a form.” 🥺
this is:
how not to handle
a consumer
during
late-term pregnancy /
in a dv context 101
(in my opinion, based on the records i’ve kept).

and you,
precious counsel,
are now tasked
with convincing a judge
that ghosting,
privately
texting/
sending funds
to a client’s
legal husband,
(if true 💔🫵🥺)
off-channel comms,
and account deletion
are all…
totally fine under the rules.

🎻😔
🎻😔
🎻😔

godspeed.
please hydrate.
and maybe
revisit the confidentiality
exceptions in the ethics rules
(e.g., disclosures permitted to
prevent/rectify substantial injury)

just in case. ✨

love & light,

xoxo, see you in discovery
🖤🔥🧾

bro, just ask for an extension next time—dafuck?

prepare yourselves…
we finally got
their official response ✨
to my complaint.

🥁🥁🎶🎶🎶
🥁🥁🎶🎶🎶
🥁🥁🎶🎶🎶
(drumroll)

and baby…
it’s giving
✨fantasy fiction✨
not legal defense.

✦

🫨🫨🫨
what they actually filed in court:

aka: welcome to the imaginary universe of nm
where accountability and duty do not exist 💕🧚🏻‍♀️✨🍄🧙‍♂️🐉


(affirmative defenses, p. 40–41)

“plaintiff’s claims
are barred because
northwestern mutual
does not owe
a legal duty
to plaintiff.”

🤯💥🧠

✦

🫨🫨🫨
what they actually filed in court:


🧚🏻🧝🏻‍♀️ no duty because no securities were bought” ¶3 🦄✨

and yet 💥—
no securities ≠ no duty.
colorado’s CCPA (C.R.S. 6-1-105)
applies to:
unfair/deceptive insurance practices.

✦

baby,
(lol)
what
the
fuck?

did you even try? 🤯🤯

i mean,
i understand
i’m
pro se ✨
but damn
not illiterate.

💭
side note:
watch how fast
this turns into a blame-game.
corp says “not us, blame the rogue reps,”
reps say “not us, big corp supervised.”
👈✨👉

baby, that’s called implosion. 💀⚡🧨

✦

💥 reality check 💥

✓ broker-dealers
must supervise the activities
of each associated person
under Rule 3110
and keep business communications
under SEC 17a-4.

independent contractor status
doesn’t reduce those obligations.
FINRA has said this
over and over.

✓ the colorado statute is blunt:
any producer
who solicits or negotiates
insurance 🧚🏻‍♀️✨
“on behalf of an insurer”
is regarded as
representing the insurer
(not the customer)
in any controversy.

📌
(y’all said
‘fuck the reps,’
save the firm—
didn’t you?
lmao, i get it)
🤫

✨ that makes the insurer
answer for what its producer did. ✨

✦
and by the way…

💥 inducement = duty 💥

hey, lol,
wuddup, 👋🏼
remember how…

🗣🗣🗣
you recruited
my spouse,

🗣🗣🗣
brought me in pregnant
to fund the dream,

🗣🗣🗣
dissected our finances,
our life goals,
our equity—

🗣🗣🗣
then routed all
paperwork/billing
through me.

lmfao.

baby,
that’s reliance 💥
you engineered.

✓ function over labels.
calling me “not a client”
doesn’t work
when you
treated me as a client ✨
lol. what?

✍️✍️✍️
(signing,
paying,
IRA inquiry,
replacement policy
naming me owner).
¶30–31

🤰💥🥊

✓ dv context matters.
ignoring…
(reviews notes)
entirely,
my dv notices
while leaving control
and ownership
with my abuser—
after taking my
signatures and money—
looks like bad faith
and invites
punitive fucking exposure.

🫨 colorado’s consumer protection act (CCPA)
ever heard of it? lol.
that shit
imposes statutory duties 👏🏻
in the sale of goods/services—
including insurance—
to avoid deceptive
or unfair practices.
you don’t need a
securities account
for that to apply.

⚖️ colorado supreme court cases
lay out the
private-action elements
like in—
hall v. walter
babe,
that shit confirms ✨
the act’s reach
into commercial sales practices 👏🏻
not just “purely private” disputes.
lol.

bro.
insurers and
their producers 💀💥
also face
specific statutory duties:
colorado’s “unfair methods
of competition/unfair
or deceptive practices”
statute (C.R.S. 10-3-1104)
bars misrepresentations, 💫
altered applications
without consent,
and related conduct
in insurance.
lol.

(count ii –
supervisory breach, p. 16–18):
aka: but babe,
you never bought securities. 🤔

🤯🔥

so—
their answer
tries to dodge
🏃‍♂️💨🙄
by saying
NMIS had
no securities relationship,
but they
simultaneously admit
NMIS “had certain
supervisory obligations”
over its reps—
an admission
that undercuts
a broad “no duty” posture.

bro.
pick a fucking lane.
👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼

anyway✨—

💣 once they
undertook
to service,
baby,
a duty arose
(“assumed duty”
/ negligent undertaking).

😳🔥 colorado recognizes
that when someone
undertakes to
render services
that others will
rely on,
they must do so
with reasonable care
(the “assumed duty” doctrine;
restatement §323).
the colorado supreme court
discusses this
directly
(jefferson cty. sch. dist. v. justus).

💣 their own answer confirms
activity consistent
with an undertaking:
they admit policies
were issued/lapsed
on the dates they claim,
and that an email/FROR
went out about “replacing”
my policy—i.e., they
were actively
steering paperwork
and policy changes.
again, that ain’t
“no relationship.”

😳🔥 so we got—
direct onboarding artifacts—
e.g., the “signature needed –
juvenile life insurance application…”
email flow
showing me
as the signatory.
that is further
evidence
of an undertaking.

💣 insurance agents/producers
owe duties when they procure coverage.

😳🔥 colorado supreme court:
an insurance broker/agent
servicing a
customer’s insurance needs
owes a duty of reasonable care
to procure the coverage requested
or to accurately advise—
classic
bayly, martin & fay v. pete’s
satire.
lol.

so—

💀💥

i was the one signing
medical paperwork,
receiving “signature needed”
links,
and paying lil’ premiums.
that squarely places me
as the
consumer
being “serviced,”
regardless of how
they now try
to label ownership.

💣 supervision & records duties
exist even if a trade
is never executed.

😳🔥 FINRA Rule 3110
requires
member firms
(like NMIS)
to supervise the activities
of each associated person
to 💥 ensure compliance 💥
with securities laws
and FINRA rules.
that includes
how reps communicate
with retail prospects/customers
about potential
securities business
(e.g., like when
i attempted to
rollover my IRA via
insta dm,
[receipt confirmed]
because my
rep. never gave me
her goddamn
phone number.)
don’t worry,
i saved a record,
right before she
deleted
her whole account.
lol.
sucks.
FINRA

🤪🤯

💣 SEC Rule 17a-4
requires broker-dealers
to preserve business-related
communications
(including electronic messages)
“relating to [their] business
as a broker-dealer.”
so like,
off-channel DMs/texts
about prospective
brokerage business
are a
recordkeeping/supervision issue—
recent enforcement underscores this.

😳🔥 their answer’s
own admission
that NMIS had
supervisory obligations,
paired with my
IRA-rollover ask
and the off-channel
communications
i’ve documented,
defeats a sweeping
“no duty” stance.

shit.

💣 domestic-violence context
creates separate statutory guardrails
in insurance.

😳🔥 colorado prohibits
unfair discrimination
and certain disclosures
tied to a person’s
domestic-abuse status
in insurance
(C.R.S. 10-3-1104.8).
given my contemporaneous
notices
and the timelines,
their “we owe nothing” posture
ignores duties not to harm
via discriminatory handling
or disclosures.

💣 “economic loss”/contract-only
defenses won’t kill independent
tort/statutory duties.

😳🔥 colorado’s
economic-loss doctrine
doesn’t bar claims
where there’s an|
independent duty
(statutory or tort).
town of alma v. azco
confirms
the independent-duty rule;
bermel v. blueradios (2019)
emphasizes
that certain
statutory/tort claims
survive.
that matters for
fraud/CCPA/recordkeeping-
based theories.

💣 their timeline admissions +
my docs already show
“consumer” status and reliance.

😳🔥 answer:
“plaintiff paid premiums…
accepted as directed and
authorized by plaintiff”
(admission).
that’s me funding
the products they placed—
consumer relationship and reliance.

their timeline concedes
a replacement process
and communications
into my inbox.
that combined with
my billing notices
(e.g., ****4395 payment reminders)
and the SEC TCR listing
the policy numbers,
it’s obvious
i was treated
as the
paying customer.

💣 fiduciary/confidential relationships
can arise by conduct and reliance.

😳🔥 colorado recognizes
fiduciary duties
where one party
occupies a superior position
and the other justifiably relies
on their counsel—
even outside classic
per se categories
(moses v. diocese of colorado).
so, their
“no fiduciary duty”
assertion
flat ignores
that my facts
(postpartum,
policy procurement,
money flows,
promised IRA assistance,
off-channel steering)
are exactly how
fiduciary/confidential
relationships
are found by juries.

crazy. 💡

✦ bottom line:

their
“no duty to samantha”
absolute fantasy
is contradicted by

(a) their own admissions
of supervisory obligations,
premium acceptance,
and directed communications,
and

(b) colorado law
imposing duties
via the CCPA,
the insurance code,
the assumed-duty doctrine,
and broker-dealer
supervision/recordkeeping
rules when reps
engage you
about securities
(lol that damn IRA rollover)
or insurance.

aka:

sorry babe 💔

inducement = duty.
function > labels.
“no duty” isn’t law.

it’s a fucking bedtime story.

✦

yo—
if you needed
more time,
there is absolutely
no shame in that.

shit.
better than a defense
that’s basically ✨fanfic✨

💀

DARVO, motherfucker. (shit means you’re guilty af)

✨ deny.
✨ attack.
✨ reverse victim
✨ & offender.

aka: the emotional abuse playbook.
aka: what people do when
they’re deadass guilty
but still want you to look crazy.

✂️ DENY

"that’s not what happened."
"you’re overreacting."
"i didn’t mean it like that."
"you’re remembering it wrong."

oh so now you’re
an expert in my trauma timeline?
bitch,
you were the villain,
not the fucking historian.
this is the part
where they gaslight you
so fucking hard
you start apologizing
for having a memory.
they didn’t do it.
and if they did do it,
it wasn’t that bad.
and if it was that bad,
you made them.

welcome to
the olympics of brainfuckery.

🧨 ATTACK

✶ "you’re crazy."
✶ "you’re abusive, actually."
✶ "you’re manipulative."
✶ "you’re just bitter."

this is when
they go full scorched earth
on your ass
because you dared to speak.
✶ your trauma? weaponized.
✶ your anger? framed.
✶ your silence? fucking suspicious.
✶ your documentation? “obsessive.”
like no matter
what you do,
you're guilty
of responding
fucking wrong
to being harmed.

congrats.
you’re now
the defendant
in your own goddamn story
while they’re out here
roleplaying martyr of the fucking year.

🕳 REVERSE VICTIM & OFFENDER

✶ "she’s attacking me."
✶ "he’s obsessed with me."
✶ "they’re ruining my life."
✶ "i’m scared for my safety."

this is when
they go full fucking
fake tears
start a smear campaign
and call their
friends and
fucking family,
to stalk
and harass
you online.

✶ it’s giving:
“i set her on fire
but she screamed
too fucking loud
so i’m filing a complaint.”

✶ it’s giving:
“i choked her
while she was pregnant
but now i feel attacked
bc she told someone.”

it’s fucking theater.
except they’re trying
to get your life canceled
to protect their ego.

🧾 DARVO IN REAL LIFE LOOKS LIKE:

✶ you call out real abuse
✶ they pretend they never saw it
✶ then they show up in court
with printouts of your trauma diary
like it's a fucking closing argument

they bypass the fact pages.
ignore the option to
fucking submit corrections,
nah, these motherfuckers
ignore the receipts.
and go straight to the rage,
the sadness,
the fucking scars—
and try to wear
your fucking breakdown
as their defense strategy.

this is not lawyering.
this is character assassination
in a cheap ass corporate fleece.

🏛 WHEN INSTITUTIONS DO DARVO?

baby
that’s not an “oversight”
that’s a federal lawsuit
waiting to happen.

and it’s when you file reports and they:

✶ delete them
✶ ignore them
✶ retaliate against you
✶ and then say you’re the fucking provocateur.

💣 WHY THIS SHIT IS DANGEROUS AS FUCK

✶ DARVO isn’t just annoying.
✶ it’s a trauma multiplier.
✶ it retraumatizes.
✶ it silences victims.
✶ and it teaches everyone watching
that telling the truth is unsafe.

and the courts?
the media?
the institutions?
they eat that shit up
unless you know what the fuck it is
and call it by its government name:
motherfucking DARVO.

🧠 AND HERE’S HOW YOU KILL IT:

✶ name it. out loud. first and fast.
✶ document everything.
✶ don’t argue tone. argue pattern.
✶ bring in a trauma expert who knows exactly how this works.
✶ make your credibility boring as hell and your timeline lethal.
✶ treat every DARVO stunt like what it is:
evidence of ongoing abuse.

🥀 fuck you.

DARVO is not confusion.
DARVO is not “two sides.”
DARVO is a strategy used
by people who are guilty as fuck
but still want you to look unstable
because if you get believed—
they lose control.
they lose narrative.
they just fucking lose.

and baby,
they should.

💅✨

not jealous. just dodging fucking femicide. 💍✨

the emoji codified, comic-tier equivalent of my marriage:

💍✨ | 🚩🚩 | 🥷💸 |🤰🥊 |🧍‍♀️↘️💀💥🟫 | 📸🧾📆 | 🚨👮 | ⚖️✍️ | 🍼🏡🌅🔒💤

alright,
y’all are goofy.
so, let me say this
with my whole chest:
this is not jealousy.
i’m not here to be likable.
i’m not here to seek revenge—
i’m here to be alive.

i did try
to fall in love with my husband.
like,
fully gave it an honest,
cringe-level little american try.
baby, wedding day?
i truly let myself believe.
atlanta trip? i let myself hope.
for a second i thought,
maybe this is the life
i always fucking wanted.
but shit—
i didn’t marry a fantasy.
i married a man
and then watched
the data fucking betray me.

because look,
there was
always fuckery.
babe—
always a missing
pill…or fucking 20.
always a locked phone screen
always an hour +
locked in the bathroom,
yo.
always a story with
three sideways-ass-endings.
then the long,
creative
theft of my future.

i swear on it all,
i tried. god, i tried.
i practiced loving him
like a language
i was never even taught.
and still—
the math on the bank app
never added the fuck up.
stories with bonus endings.
cash that grew fucking legs.
late-night “errands”
that smelled
like cheap
facetime calls and potentially
fucking extramarital untruths.

nah.
you want jealousy?
baby,
jealousy is loud and thirsty.
i was quiet and stabilizing.
honey, i swear—
in a different universe,
where he’s not leaning psychotic,
we could’ve at least
been best friends.
i wanted that.
i wanted our kid
to have a fucking dad
who shows the fuck up.

but jealous?
babe, no.
if anything,
i prayed he’d
find a girlfriend
so he’d stop
orbiting my life
like a disaster fucking moon.
but nah,
what snapped
my fucking neck
wasn’t “a tragic side-bitch.”
it was the timeline.
the overlap.
the fucking choreography.
that shit is chilling.
if she was there
the fucking whole marriage,
that’s not romance.
that’s premeditated deceit
with an expensive pill habit.

yeah, so
here’s the part
that keeps me up at night:
i stayed loyal to a man
i wasn’t even
deeply in love with,
because we had a child
and a fucking plan.
i chose duty
like goddamn oxygen.
he chose extraction
like a fucking addict.

👏🏻 money siphoned.
👏🏻 car fucked.
👏🏻 benefits “for the family”
redirected into the void
of his unlimited potential.
👏🏻 periodic “acts of deceit”
like the good deeds
you fucking brace for—
because yo,
it’s always
followed by fucking
violence—
that’s not heartbreak.
that’s horror
remembering
my fucking skull
slamming on the
goddamn floor.

🫨 → ↘️ → 💀💥 → 🪵 → 🔁

nope. 🖕🏻
this ain’t about some
”awkward” love triangle.
it’s a fucking risk assessment.
it’s me swapping
a violent heartbreak playlist
for a level three
fucking safety index.
deadbolt over daydream—
babe.
documentation over
fucking goddamn denial.

the facts:

✨ june: vows.
✨ july/august: vanishings + dumb lies.
✨ peek pregnancy: bank balance drops, temper spikes, 10+ scale fucking violence
✨ after: promises to not economically abandon → economic abandonment.
✨ ongoing: the mystery money fountain that never once watered our kid.

compare that to jealousy’s profile:

✶ jealousy says “pick me.”
✶ terror says “don’t kill me.”

✶ jealousy cyberstalks the new girl.
✶ terror rotates passwords,
bars the windows,
and memorizes fucking plates.

✶ jealousy wants him back.
✶ terror wants an order honored and a toddler safe.

so let me carve this in concrete 💫

if he could
lay next to me every night,
watch my body make a person,
and still run parallel lives—
then i didn’t lose a husband.
i survived a fucking full-on con.

i’m not jealous
of whoever gets him. 💫
i’m nauseous for her.
because i know
how the edited scenes
really fucking look—
with photos,
apologies that expire
in 24 fucking hours,
and a bruise
shaped like
a goddamn lesson.

nah—
i don’t hate him.
yo, there’s a
stubborn-ass part of me
that still prays his humanity wins.
but love
without safety
is a fucking trap, 💫
not a virtue.
and forgiveness
without consequences
is a goddamn accelerant.

so no,
bitch,
this isn’t jealousy.
this is a woman
who understands
pattern recognition.
this is a mother
who refuses to be
a fucking eulogy.
this is the ledger talking:

he took the money.
he took the peace.
he tried to take the story.

i’m taking it the fuck back.

✨🖕🏻✨

commit
that shit
to memory:

not jealous.
just fucking terrified.
and so done.

💫

🗣 dear defense: if your “research” of my trauma diary is a preemptive victim-blaming narrative…fucking yikes. 🏆💥🥊

subtitle: congrats on reading comprehension. now try ethics.

—

yes,
i see you.
👁👄👁
seven hundred+ events.
every single page.
over an hour of stalking.
denver hub.
😳🔥🏠
scrolling my
goddamn trauma
like it’s westlaw for feelings.

here’s your heads-up presentation,
since you’re already screen-recording:

👤👀

i built this site
as a fucking life raft,
not your discovery buffet.
it’s a diary,
not a deposition.
it exists because private rooms
failed to keep me alive. ✨
full stop.

—

what you’re actually doing 💡

not “context gathering.”
let’s be honest,
i begged you
to communicate with me
before all this shit
dropped on this site.
this ain’t “truth seeking.”
you’re scraping
a domestic-violence survivor’s
fucking journal
to manufacture a character theory.
that’s textbook secondary harm.
i’m literally in crim law rn.
this is the playbook for victims.
it signals to every target watching:
speak and we’ll punish your speech.
(hi, chilling effect. say hi to your cousin, retaliation.)

—

morality check 💡
(since y’all love “dv advocacy” on linkedin)

trauma processing is healthcare.
weaponizing it is cruelty
cosplaying as due diligence.
if your whole defense
needs my tone,
my cursing,
my jokes, ✨
my lowercase,
my fucking rage
to excuse a man’s hands
on my pregnant skull,
you don’t have a case.
you have a fucking
smear campaign.

—

ethics check 💡
(professional, not instagram)

good-faith advocacy ≠ strip-mining
a survivor’s diary for shame pellets.
the point of legal ethics
is to narrow issues,
not inflame a jury
with fucking vibe critiques.
if your trial plan is
“she wrote loudly,”
you’re just proving
the violence traveled—
from his fists to your filings.

—

law check 💡
(you knew this was coming)

✍🏻 relevance: blog vibes
rarely make assault
or fucking fraud—
more/less probable.
you know it.

✍🏻 prejudice: even if you pretend
it’s probative, the unfair-prejudice/
confusion mini-trial risk is massive.
you know that too.

✍🏻 character evidence: you can’t use
“she’s angry online” to say
“she asked for it” offline.
that’s not how character rules work.

✍🏻 credibility: truthfulness is a narrow door.
“she swears and posts memes”
doesn’t fit through
that shit though.

✍🏻 hearsay: if you want my posts
for their truth,
then you’ve got hearsay problems.
if you want them to impeach,
welcome to 403 land.

✍🏻 discovery abuse:
proportionality + privacy exist.
protective orders exist.
courts hate sideshows.

👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼

translation:
your blog-as-weapon strategy
is legally flimsy as fuck
and ethically fucking ugly.
bro—pick a struggle.

—

preempting your favorite lazy spins

“she’s monetizing her story”
no, i’m resuscitating my life.
my bills didn’t pause
when he strangled my future.

“she’s trying this in the court of public opinion”
no, i’m trying not to die in the court of public silence.

“she’s inconsistent”
trauma isn’t linear prose.
evidence is. that’s why i keep receipts, dates, filings.

“she hates him”
incorrect. if hatred kept women safe,
femicide rates would be zero. consequences do.

—

the record ✨
(since you’re so obsessed)

• restraining order disclosures? made. repeatedly.
• financial abandonment? documented. numbers, dates, amounts.
• child policy + dependent pay shenanigans? paper trails exist.
• cross-country relocations to survive? fucking receipts.
• mystery money + bonds while i begged for basics? goddamn logged.

you don’t need my punchlines
to understand the pattern.
you just need a calculator
and a fucking calendar.

—

ground rules going forward—
✨ yo, straight up:

1. my diary is not your client’s alibi.

2. my tone is not a defense to his conduct.

3. my survival strategy is not a credibility defect.

4. my website documenting fucking harm
   is not consent to be harmed again.

and for the true stalkers:
if your takeaway
from a woman nearly dying
and being abused by an
entire fucking financial “institution”
is “she sounds mean online,”
you’re advertising
your goddamn complicity,
not your intellect.

—

closing:

i know you’re here.
i can literally see the denver traffic
spiking the fuck off the charts
while i type.
so let me save you some scrolling:

this archive
exists so my kid
has a mother,
not a memorial.
if your plan
is to turn a safety flare
into evidence of sin,
you just proved my thesis:
abuse isn’t a one-man sport.
it’s a fucking relay.
and you’re grabbing the motherfucking baton.

👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼

nah, i went public because private almost killed me 💫

why i’m saying it out loud
even when my hands
still fucking shake.

—

here’s the savage truth, babe.

i didn’t go looking
for a fucking courtroom.
i didn’t wake up
craving “charges.”
i told one
simple,
boring,
bureaucratic fact:
i have a restraining order.
please note it.
please just keep our file.
please don’t provoke him.

and somehow
now—
i’m the fucking liar?
while every dude
with a badge
hit me with the same
fucked-ass script:
“but he’s a vet. ✨
was it really that bad?”

yeah bro.
it was that bad.
and honestly?
sometimes i do forget.
but then i get
fucking flashes
of my goddamn
skull smacking the
wood floor
and suddenly,
i remember it
better than i
remember my own
fucking birthday.
yo.
i know, but
really picture that shit.
i was pregnant.
the only reason
it stopped was
because i made sure
there were fucking
witnesses. ✨
not remorse.
not growth.
an audience.

—

you wanna know
why i’m public now?
because silence
is where women
go to fucking die.
because my
“support system”
is a goddamn
ghost town with
a fucking ring camera.
nah,
no dad.
no brother.
bro, not even
an ex checking in
caped the fuck up.
nope.
just me and a baby
and a stack of bills
this man fucking
engineered.

✨

baby,
i tried grace.
i tried patience.
i tried “he’s struggling.”
but meanwhile?
he fucking promised
not to economically abandon us.
then immediately began
the goddamn threats,
followed by abruptly
economically fucking abandoning us.
liquidated what i built.
stole the value in the fucking car.
left me with all the debt.
enrolled himself in the gi bill
he swore was “for our family.”
while i used my
whole fucking tuition refund
to finance his
northwestern mutual
fucking pipe dream.
lol.
didn’t even get the
baby’s fucking life policy.
and i’m still here
arguing for $87/week
because he refused
to fucking comply
when it was $150.
do you hear
how goddamn
insane that is?
eighty. seven. fucking. dollars.
the price of a
mediocre-ass
dinner
and
two fucking liars.

—

let’s talk papers
since
everyone loves
a fucking
signed document
more than
a goddamn bruise.

💫

✶ dependent pay?
i jumped through
hoops,
undoing social security
bullshit,
getting all
that baby info
so he could
get that bump—
weird how
it never physically reaches
the fucking dependent.

✶ the child policy
i started from
a fucking hospital bed?
vanished into
“oh, sorry, not yours—
try another premium.”

✶ cross-country relocations x2
to escape lethal levels of violence?
i paid in cash,
cortisol,
and custody nightmares.

✶ secret cash pipelines?
bro, he’s “broke as a joke”
until it’s time to post bond
or fly private delusion class.
there’s always a mysterious
auntie or a trust-fund hobbyist
with a goddamn venmo signal.

—

do i want him to suffer?
no.
i really don’t.
do i want him
to face consequences?
yes.
because lack of consequences
is the abuse continuing by other means.
ask his first wife whether
the graph is trending up.
what’s the forecast
for the next one—
or me, in the next 5 years—
homicide true crime?

and yeah,
i was fucking scared
to press absolutely anything.
of course i told them
not to escalate.
he’s fucking trained.
he’s goddamn unpredictable.
and i have a toddler.
that’s not cowardice;
that’s fucking risk assessment.
bro—
i didn’t “weaponize the system.”
he did—
financially,
legally,
and psychologically.
i’m just done subsidizing
it with my fucking silence.

—

why now?
because i ran out
of private doors to knock on.
because i’m not protected
by an uncle with a badge
or a boardroom
with a reputation to polish.
because every
”let’s be reasonable” meeting
turned into:

“let’s be reasonable
about you starving fucking quietly.”

so i’m being unreasonable.
i’m being loud.
i’m being fucking alive.

—

baby,
this isn’t drama.
this is a safety plan
with punctuation.
this is me planting
a fucking flare on the map:
if anything happens to me,
understand there was
a long,
boring paper trail
of people who knew,
who fucking shrugged,
who asked if
the floor “was really that hard.”

i wanted a co-parent.
i got a goddamn case study.
i wanted a ride-or-die.
i got a drain-and-deny.

so here’s
my line in the fucking sand
and the fucking court file:
fraud is fraud.
abuse is abuse.
and escalation
is the only thing
that thrives in darkness.

turn the lights on.
count the money.
read the orders.
match the dates.
watch the fucking pattern.

then tell me
with your
whole goddamn chest
that i should’ve
stayed quiet.

—

closing statement,
your honor:
i’m not asking for revenge.
i’m asking for friction.
consequences are brakes.
without them,
men like him don’t “heal,”
they fucking accelerate.

so print this.
stamp it.
frame it if you have to.
call it evidence,
a warning,
a fucking obituary
i refused to let them write.

i’m public
because my kid
needs a mother,
not a fucking memorial.

💫

i’m loud because i plan on living. ✨

fuck around & find out: punch your wife, the tort edition 💖✨🫶🏻🌈🌷💅🏻🦄

so here’s the thing
i’ve been
thinking about…
it’s something like—

✨cuffing szn✨
for abusers & their enablers

☀️🦋🌷🫶🦄🌈✨

but wait—
hear me out:
abuse isn’t just
one psycho dude
🔪💀✨
with a fist and
unmitigated rage issues.
nope.
abuse is a whole-ass
infrastructure.
it’s systems.
it’s fucking silence.

it’s people who know
and decide their
office vibes
are more important
than your skull
not getting
cracked the fuck open.

and honestly?
i think dv survivors
(the ones that fucking survive)
need to

sue 👏🏻
more 👏🏻
people. 👏🏻

✨🇺🇸🫡

period.
why?
because if there’s
no fucking consequences,
then it’s open season
on women
fucking
forever.

like—
society doesn’t
change
because people
“learn.” 🤡
nope.
society changes
when it gets
dragged the fuck
into court 💥
and fined until
its ass fucking bleeds.

(figuratively)

🙃✨

so yeah.

i wage this fucking war. ❤️‍🔥🦅

nah,
not for fun
(though god knows
i’d love some
financial resurrection
after my ex nightmare
and the institutions
that indulged him
nuked my fucking
bank account
and my body).
but nope.
not just for me
(though, side note:
restitution
pls,
baby,
his family is
literally on gov aid
because of his
💥 overt
💥 physical +
💥 financial
fucking abuse 💫
+
total
fucking
💥 abandonment

while these institutions
keep wiring money
to the goddamn abuser
casually,
fucking systematically—
ducking child support
abandoned his
whole
ass
family).

👊🏻💥👊🏻💥👊🏻💥👊🏻💥 ⚠️🤡

i wage this war:💫
for my daughter.
for every woman
who’s been slammed
into a floor
head first—
at eight months
fucking pregnant.
for every mom
who delivered
with black eyes
like it was just
another fucking accessory.
for every wife
who goddamn flinches
when the “hero” husband
comes home from war
and she knows
the switch is about
to fucking flip.

✨🇺🇸🎖️

like hello???
seriously,
fucking unfortunately,
(i mean that)
i have receipts. ✨
photos of a fucking
split lip
black eyes
literally days
before giving birth.
bruising across my skull.
matching ER visits.
a paper trail
so fucking thick
it should have its own
fucking ISBN number.
and that makes me
goddamn sick.
and still
society’s like
“eh idk, 💀
maybe she’s being
fucking dramatic.”

💥🥊

lol. ✨

meanwhile:
he drained tens
of thousands
of my savings.
now: i can’t pay the bills.
he pockets dependent pay—
his kid is on fucking medicaid.
after he promised tricare...
(wait… for real?) ✨
and this is just
fucking fine?
nah.
and y’all
are still
sending him money?
still giving him jobs?
still letting him enroll
on more benefits
while he abandons
his goddamn baby?

👏🏻👏🏻💀

nah.
no more.
if you
defended,
denied,
funded,
ignored,
or conveniently
“didn’t wanna see it”—
guess what?

fucking lawsuit season, baby.

💖✨🫶🏻🌈🌷💅🏻🦄

you gotta understand—
even if i lose,
i win.
because every complaint filed
is a crack in the fucking wall.
and mark my fucking words,
i smell future class actions
against these systems
that keep sheltering abusers
like they’re
endangered fucking wildlife.

so yeah.
💀 let’s sue government agencies.
💀 let’s sue corporations.
💀 let’s sue the enablers
💀 the fucking individuals—
who can’t stop cutting checks
to men who choke out their wives.

nah.
not to get rich.
not for revenge.
but to finally
make the goddamn violence

fucking stop.

🤰💥🥊

👋🏽 federally funded—wife beaters inc. ✶🪖🇺🇸

hey y’all!!—
you finally showed up.
152.xxx.xx.x,
tic.va.gov. 👋🏽
got that fed badge,
baby,
chrome browser,
colorado.

what’s up?

don’t act shy—
you read
the origin story,
faqs,
terms & threats,
and damn,
burn book.
you clicked through
like a goddamn
bored-ass auditor.
but let’s not pretend
you don’t know
why you’re here.

because hey.

you are now
in possession of
actual knowledge of:

✶ fraud risk → veteran dependency
benefits under 38 u.s.c. § 1115 and
apportionment under § 5307 are
being misused.
the dependent bump ($300+) added
to this dude’s soldier money
when i birthed his daughter
has not been used
for her care. lol.
one venmo—$100
in 10 months.
the rest?
i guess diverted.

✶ legal risk → same combat-trained
beneficiary is technically still
extremely violent.
considering my guy
strangled and assaulted
his pregnant wife.
lethality factors recognized
under doj lethality assessment protocols.
and yet your checks keep cashing.

✶ reputational risk → every fact here
exposes you as
the only employer in america
where:

severe-level DV +
nonpayment of support =
continued paycheck.

cool. 💀💀💀

🪖 here’s your own rulebook:

✘ 38 c.f.r. § 3.450: if the vet fails
to reasonably discharge
his responsibility
for support,
benefits may be apportioned
to the spouse/child.

✘ 38 c.f.r. § 3.451: “special apportionment”
is supposed to prevent hardship
to dependents.
spoiler: my baby is on welfare.
hardship achieved.

✘ va handbook 5019: you even
claim to have a domestic violence
program coordinator.
comic, where she at?
because i walked in to the local VA,
and they told me support was
only for him.
doesn’t seem
100% legal—am i right? lol

✘ dod instruction 6400.06:
family advocacy program 🔥
is allegedly designed to
“address and prevent family violence.”
ok. command discretion = lol 💀

so you tell me:
is the “support” being provided
when i’m rationing groceries
and he’s posting bond
while living on your money?

⚖️ so, my federally funded wife beaters inc. :

consider this not just an email,
but constructive notice.
you’ve clicked my site.
you’ve read the allegations.
you are now bound by
your own statutory authority:

✘ investigate dependency misuse (38 u.s.c. § 1115).
✘ process apportionment (38 u.s.c. § 5307).
✘ stop financing an abuser under the guise of “service.”

failure to act = complicity.
failure to redirect = fraud by omission.

💀 conclusion:
you created him.
you trained him.
you funded him.
and now you’re fucking here.

because hey—

this is no longer just his problem.
it’s your institutional liability.

because look,
i’m not the only wife—
this shit
happens to,
and i bet you know that.

✶🪖🇺🇸

you are all
complicit as fuck.

💫

nah but this is me being chill. 💀

yeah,
i forgive you.
but yeah—
i also reported it.

because baby?

this is:

truth,
accountability,
and why i don’t hate you—
but i’m done protecting
you from your-fucking-self.

and nah, babe.
this ain’t emotional—
i’m just done covering for
your fucking crimes.

…

yo, for real—
i don’t hate you.
i never fucking did.
i’m not built like that.
hate rots your insides
and makes you carry people
longer than they fucking deserve.
and god knows,
i’ve already carried this shit
long enough.

(fucking amen)

but what i do believe in?
truth.
accountability.
and the fucking audacity
to say what happened—
out fucking loud.

✶

because here’s
the psychology of it:
the fucking 101:
when you protect people
from the truth of what they did,
you don’t love them.
you enable them.
you build them a delusion.
and they’ll live in it—forever—
if no one burns it the fuck down.

when you let someone
hurt you
and you absorb it in silence,
you’re not healing.
you’re fucking decaying.
you’re erasing yourself
to keep the peace
in a room
that has already
declared a goddamn war on you.

truth must be spoken.
out loud.
with fucking teeth.
with the goddamn records.
with your whole fucking chest.

because trauma
doesn't just stem
from the violence—
it stems from the denial of it.
the gaslighting.
the erasure.
the “was it really that bad?”
yes.
it fucking was.

and silence is how it happens again.
and again.
and again.

✶

the philosophy of it?
truth is sacred.
truth is relational.
truth is the only way
any of us can ever really be known.
and i fucking refuse
to be a stranger
to myself
just so someone else
can stay comfortable
in their fucking hallucination.

forgiveness is
not the same as erasure.
i can not hate you,
and still require you
to fucking look at what you did.
i can not wish you harm,
and still say: you harmed me.
you harmed our child.
you destabilized my entire fucking life.
you cost me
peace,
money,
health,
safety,
time.
and no,
love doesn't erase the fucking debt.
it demands justice.

you wanna be better?
then sit in what you’ve done.
feel it.
own it.
fucking name it.

because without that?
you’re not healing.
you’re hiding.
you’re not changing.
you’re just mutating in horseshit.

and i am not your
mirror anymore.
i’m not the surface
you get to bounce
your goddamn denial off of.

people think
withholding the truth
is fucking grace.
it’s not.
it’s fucking cowardice.
and i’m not a coward.
i’m not a martyr.
i’m not your punching bag,
your rebound,
your emotional fucking accountant.
i’m not here to swallow my screams
so you can sleep better.

truth is necessary.
accountability is fucking holy.
and consequences
are the only language
some people understand.

so no,
i don’t want to destroy you.
i want to interrupt you.
i want to say:
this ends here.
not just for me.
but for the next woman.
for the next kid.
for whoever would’ve been next.
for my daughter, watching.

you don’t get to leave blood
on the fucking floor
and call it spilled milk.
not in my home.
not in my goddamn life.

✶

i don’t hate you.
i just refuse to be your accomplice.
and if that feels like betrayal to you?
good.
maybe now you know
how the fuck it feels

to be stabbed
in the goddamn back.

accessory after the fact: the most classic enablers of violence against women 🪦👏🏻

aka: aid, abet, pretend:
how “helping” becomes homicide-adjacent

✶

💀🔫

nah, not bystanders—
co-fucking-conspirators
you “didn’t know.”
deadass?
baby, you knew.
but hey—
it takes a fucking village
to break a woman
clout, cash, & cover:
the fucking trifecta
that gets women killed.

🪦👏🏻

damn.
breathe.

✶

—

pattern (aka how the abusive fuckery is powered)

fund the abuser → financial aiding.
ignore documented dv → reckless endangerment.
paperwork under conflict/duress → fraud + fiduciary breach.
hide him, lie for him, smear me → obstruction.
call it “private” → it’s public crime with your goddamnn fingerprints.

so?

⚖️ 18 u.s.c. § 2 — aiding & abetting.
⚖️ 18 u.s.c. § 3 — accessory after the fact.
⚖️ 18 u.s.c. § 1343 — wire fraud (digital money/paperwork).
⚖️ dv crimes — strangulation, assault, stalking, coercive control, economic abuse.
⚖️ civil claims — negligent supervision, fraud, iied, conspiracy,

wrongful fucking death for the kid if her mom doesn’t make it.

💔🪦👶🏼

—

receipts the bench will give a shit about:

✘ notice. you were told. repeatedly.
✘ benefit. he got money, cover, logistics.
✘ act. you did something that helped him offend or evade.
✘ nexus. your help tied to our harm.

yo.
that’s the fucking four-square you can’t duck.

#translation

if you helped him,
✘ you helped it.
money moved = ✘ help.
transport given = ✘ help.
lying to cover = ✘ help.
“don’t get me involved”
while sending him cash = ✘ involved.
“two sides of the story” = ✘ accessory vibes.
lol, please,
don’t play dumb.
for real,
play the fucking lotto
if you wanna gamble.
not dice on my fucking life.

⚀ ⚁ ⚂ ⚃ ⚄ ⚅

—

#the math

(aka: how enabling fuels abuse)

→ inputs you fed him
cash + couch + car + power + cover

💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸

→ outputs i’m forced to eat
debt + danger + downtime + doubt + delayed justice

minus (💸💸💸💸💸💸💸💸)

→ equation you keep pretending isn’t real
your dollar in his pocket = a dollar i don’t have for utilities, food, lawyer, safety

• an hour i lose to fix what you financed 💸

• one more day he’s free to escalate 💸

→ line items (plug your numbers, my guy):
bond you posted + flights you bought + ubers you covered + facts you lied about + car you spotted
– child support paid (lol) – diapers he bought (lol) – bills he covered (lol) – massive debts he left (lol)
= the gap i carry while you pretend:

you can’t see that
he obviously
kicked my ass
at 9 months pregnant.

🤰🥊💥💀💰💰

lmao, delusional bullshit.

→ time is currency too:
every “quick favor” you ran for him = hours i spent calling courts, pharmacies, daycares, shelters
while holding a baby and a stack of past-due fucking bills.
the exchange rate is brutal: your 10 minutes of ‘help’ buys him 10 more hours to evade and abuse.

→ risk multiplier (no bullshit, just facts we all fucking know):
pregnancy + strangulation history + access to cash + a goddamn cheering section
= spike in lethality.
you kept the spike.

—

#ignorance shit audit (stop fronting)

did you hear “she filed a restraining order”?
did you see bruises? hospital wristbands? police cards on the counter?
did you know about the warrant? the bond? the court dates?
did he stay on your couch “just for a bit”?
did you text “you good?” while zelling your buddy $200?
did you tell me “it’s not that serious,” “it’s between y’all,” “she’s a liar”?
congrats—you passed the threshold. knowledge + assistance = you’re in it.

—

#the usual suspects: moms, coworkers, desperate females, firms, & goddamn cowards

🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒🐒

→ the mommy 🏆
i said pills.
i said stolen money.
i said fucking violence.
i showed her goddamn pictures.
you fucking shrugged until the warrant—
then suddenly you care.
to protect him, not us.
that’s not confusion. that’s convenient.

🫡

→ the co-worker 🏆
you had a license and a pulse.
fiduciary duties aren’t a goddamn suggestion.
you funneled him money on the low and pushed paperwork while i was in crisis.
two policies vanished. fucking shocker.
stop pretending venmo is a confessional. it’s a receipt.

🫡

→ the aunties & distant fam 🏆
you openly lurked my stories.
typed “she’s fine” while i posted pregnancy black eyes.
sent him cash.
ate up his bullshit.
while never giving a single shit,
about this actual child.
nah. you’re logistics.

🫡

→ the fucking firm 🏆
you gave him a little desk, a title, and a pipeline.
you ignored the disclosures.
you let the conflict eat shit.
if i died, you’d be in court calling it a tragedy.
save it.

🫡

—

#how it plays out (cause → effect → body count)

you pay his bond → he’s sidesteps fucking reality.
you float his rent → he skips child support.
you buy his flights → he violates, then “restarts” somewhere adorable.
you co-sign his narrative → cops and courts second-guess me.
you hide his location, his car, his phone → i look “dramatic” while he conspires.
repeat until someone’s obituary “has no cause listed.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

—

#what you call love, i call aiding and abetting

cash is complicity.
couch is harboring.
“she’s crazy” is smear tactic.
your silence is supply chain.
that’s aiding & abetting.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

—

for the fucking record

i carried the debt. the bills. the child. the threats.
he re-enrolled in school with defrauded money.
promised transfers for our kid that never came.
meanwhile you wired him help and called me crazy.
i delivered a baby with two black eyes.
you’re still making goddamn excuses.

😑😐😑

the fuck?

—

relief sought ✨

charge the helpers.
prosecute the firms.
subpoena the phones. the venmos. the imessages. the onboarding logs.
depose the mommys, the aunties, the “only coworkers.”
freeze the money. void the shitty paperwork. claw it the fuck back.
name them in the fucking caption, not just the goddamn footnote.

✨ that’s how you fucking end dv. ✨

—

#jersey closing arguments (for the inhabitants in the stalker section)

you knew.
you liked the version of him
that looks clean, but
that cost me blood.
and every dollar
you laundered through “helping”
became another inch
of fucking rope
around my throat
and our life.

so here’s the new policy:
if you fund it, you own it.
if you hide it, you’re fucking in it.
if you witness it and silence me,
you chose a fucking side. ✨

🤰🥊🏆

every abuser has a supply chain.
you kept it operating.

✶

you are not fucking bystanders.
you are goddamn accessories.

✶

squad pic: 🧙‍♀️🐸🤡👹🧟‍♂️

💥 why wives getting their asses beat is the military’s 🪖🇺🇸 fucking problem.

not a vibe. not a one-off. a pattern.

🇺🇸
🇺🇸
🇺🇸

🧠 fact: veterans are 2–3x more likely to commit intimate partner violence (IPV) than civilians.
→ that number jumps for combat vets, especially special forces or infantry-trained.
→ and no, it’s not because their wives are “crazy.” it’s because war breaks people.

🇺🇸 fact: the military tracks suicide and PTSD—but barely touches DV.
→ 1 in 3 female military spouses report abuse.
→ 1 in 4 military women experience sexual assault—by other servicemembers.
→ 40%+ of substantiated DV cases in the military result in no criminal charge or separation.

📉 fact: most bases prioritize optics over intervention.
→ commanders can ignore or “informally handle” DV complaints.
→ most survivors report retaliation or career damage when they report their abuser.
→ military court-martial for DV? rare. outcomes are: counseling, demotion, relocation. not accountability.

💰 fact: VA + DoD benefits still flow to abusers post-separation.
→ restraining order? doesn’t stop the direct deposit.
→ dependent pay? gets pocketed while the survivor is left applying for food stamps.
→ DV charges? he can still access Tricare, GI Bill, and disability while financially choking out his wife.
→ military service is the only job in america where beating your wife doesn’t stop your paycheck.

🩸 fact: strangulation + pregnancy assault = lethality indicators.
→ DV victims are 750% more likely to be killed by their abuser if strangled once.
→ pregnancy abuse is one of the top predictors of homicide.
→ and both are common in combat vets w/ untreated trauma.

🕳 fact: “combat conditioning” overlaps with coercive control.
→ isolation? standard op.
→ surveillance? learned skill.
→ dehumanization? trained in that shit.
→ rage cycles? buried under “discipline.”
→ the man you trained for war is not harmless when he comes home.

📦 fact: the VA has a “domestic violence coordinator” in fucking theory.
→ most spouses never hear from them.
→ most DV survivors in military families don’t even know that’s a resource.
→ and if they do? they’re told: “go to the family advocate.” aka: the military’s HR for bruises.

⚖️ fact: the U.S. military is functionally exempt from the systems that hold civilians accountable.
→ no mandatory reporting.
→ no public records.
→ no fucking transparency.
→ and a thousand-page NDA culture where silence is loyalty and those who report are “unstable.”

💀 conclusion:
you created this.
you trained him.
you ignored the signs.
you paid them.
and when his wife ends up in cover,
with a baby and a fucking trauma file—
you still call him a soldier. 🪖

it’s not a domestic issue.
it’s fucking institutional.

🇺🇸

✴︎ men be like “i love you” 💀

yo—
in one second,
that shit hits you
not like a fucking punch
to the goddamn skull
more like that
slow realization
they never fucking loved you.
none of them.
they liked the ego boost.
the sex.
the fucking survival package.
the unpaid emotional labor.
the therapist that sat on their goddamn lap.

💔

nah,
you didn’t love me.
you just liked having
someone prettier than you
sit quietly while you
talked about your-fucking-self.

you didn’t love me.
you just liked knowing someone
would still text you the fuck back
after you disappeared
for 3–5 fucking business days
and came back
with a weak ass
"sorry i’ve just been in my head."

you didn’t love me.
you just liked not having to do dishes
in the fucking condo i paid for.

you didn’t love me.
you loved saying
“i'm just really not good at emotions”
while i carried the weight
of your entire fucking nervous system.

you didn’t love me.
you loved being forgiven.

i was never your soulmate.
i was your fucking hospice nurse
for the dying parts of you
that you refused to fucking fix.

because sweetheart?
not one of them
has ever truly given
a single, whole, fuck
about you.

sure.
they loved the fucking mirror you were
when they looked into your eyes
and saw someone who
still fucking believed in them.

they loved what you did for them
but not who you are.
nothing ugly or complex.
they loved your body
like a fucking piece of trash—
they could throw away
when they were finished.

and when that shit broke down?
yeah, babe—
they fucking left you
on the side
of the fucking road
and called it goddamn closure.

none of them
brought water
when you were in fucking flames,
none of them watched your kid
while you studied for fucking finals—
none of them showed up
unless your downfall fucking profited them.
they sent flowers—
after inflicting the fucking wounds.

they loved the idea of you.
but not your wars.
your rage.
your fucking truth.
your shitty backstory.

and still—
you fucking loved them.
fed them.
goddamn defended them.
fucked them.
believed them.

and they
let you
burn alive.

💔

the fucking conclusion?

you were never the love of their life.
you were
collateral
fucking
damage.

and babe?
they’ll miss you
only when
they’re fucking nauseous
and need help
remembering where
the fuck
their goddamn
souls went.

💀👻💨🪦

how to bankrupt your baby mama and still post bond… twice ✴︎

coercive control: the deluxe financial fuck-you edition

monthly disability check:
→ $1600+ from military,
→ that shit was raised $300+ when i birthed his fucking daughter
→ keeps it all. doesn’t share a fucking dime.

• child support sent since 2024:
  → one (1) venmo: $100
  → memo said: “daddy misses you”
  → payment rejected prior. never re-sent.
  → we’re on WIC.
  → he’s on double government-sponsored benefits.
  → refuses to pay $87/week for food.

• mutual debt left in my name:
  → $600 car loan + $400/month insurance
  → co-signed + promised to cover before he totaled my old car
  → vanished despite promising not to abandon us economically
  → drove it into the fucking ground like it was his.
  ~$20k+ in transporting, repairs, labor.
  
  

• GI bill transfer (baby, i swear):
  → promised to transfer benefits to me or our child
  → aka: the price of my fucking loyalty + my entire fucking life savings
  → used my savings account / tuition money to launch his career
  → never transferred shit / refused after i drained everything
  → guess who’s now enrolled again?
  
  

• career investment (funded by me):
  → licensing, training, wardrobe, travel
  → $10k+ minimum
  → all during my second / third trimester
  aka: real man shit.
  → all while he sat on his ass saying “i’m trying”
  aka: texting his female coworker and getting
  untaxable kickbacks from her, instead of making
  money for your actual family.
  
  

• tax fraud?:

  → claims $5k total on joint-taxes despite various jobs +
  whole ass career in finance for ~half a goddamn year
  → malevolent other half = currently being hunted by the IRS.
  → my $3,000 refund is eaten by his fucking tax bullshit

…this is all in:
~one
fucking
year.

reads like: god-tier fucking abusive exploiter.

deadbeat daddy ≠ suddenly got stacks? 🧐💸

let’s break that felony funding shit down.

• ✦ two private criminal defense attorneys:
  ~roughly $7,000–$12,000 retainer each

• ✦ felony-level bond posted (twice, lol)
  → $50k texas + $10k colorado bonds
  ~roughly $5,000–$10,000 cash minimum

• ✦ flights TX ⇄ CO (2x round trip):
  ~roughly $500+ total

• ✦ all this while “not working,”
  claiming to be “a teacher’s aide,”
  living on “just disability + stolen child bump $,”
  and “can’t afford” to feed his kid.

*🤡 he said “i’m broke.” but he meant: broke morally.”

👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼

lmfao.
who
the
fuck
is bankrolling this bullshit?
nah, like—for real:
who
the
fuck—
is backing this absolute
abusive-levels of financial fuckery?

you are
aiding
ongoing
domestic
fucking
violence.

👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼
👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼
👏🏿👏🏽👏🏻👏🏾👏🏼

these bitches (👺👺👺👺) are
really fucking out here:
funding a
fucking
felony
(!!!)
y’all are fucking clowns.
🤡🎡🎪🍿
while his baby remains
economically abandoned—
ok sure.
that’s true devil shit.

🔥💰💰💰💰💰🔥

🚨 why this ain’t financial hardship — it’s fucking abuse 🚨

coercive control: deluxe army ranger / ivy league — golden boy courtroom edition

baby—
this isn’t financial hardship.
this is coercive control—
weaponized through money, timing, and legal maneuvering.
abuse doesn’t end at the restraining order.
it just changes fucking form.

▶︎ coercive control is a recognized pattern of domestic abuse under
laws like the UK’s Serious Crime Act 2015 and reflected in U.S. DV literature:
 → economic deprivation 💀
 → isolation 💀
 → legal funds out of fucking nowhere 💀
 → reputation gaslighting (she’s lying about being punched/strangled) 💀
 → selective access to resources 💀

= 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

▶︎ he’s not funding survival (diapers, food, child support)
 → he’s funding strategy (attorneys, bonds, unnecessary fucking travel)

▶︎ control by proxy is a DV fucking hallmark
 → enablers, lawyers, money, and institutions used as shields or fucking weapons

▶︎ economic abuse is a fucking lethality factor
 → especially post-separation, duh.
 → especially when combined with legal retaliation or parental abandonment

this isn’t broke behavior.
it’s battlefield budgeting.
and y’all—
he’s fighting to control,
not to get help.

baby,
he’s not broke.
he’s just refusing to support
the fucking life he goddamn created.
instead, he’s spending fucking thousands
to dodge accountability for crimes
he actually fucking committed.

🤡💀

sweetheart,
go back to repenting.
lying to a judge looks pathetic on you.

🪖 FIELD MANUAL 666: RANGER OPS IN MARITAL NEUTRALIZATION 🇺🇸

=★=

classification: blacksite. eyes only.
approved by: god, country, and your colonel who don’t ask no fucking questions. 🇺🇸

“RANGERS LEAD THE WAY—

TO FAMILY COURT, FEMALE TRAUMA, AND FELONY WARRANTS.”

MISSION OBJECTIVE:
🧨 disable, discredit, and disappear
your spouse using tier 1 ranger tactics,
legal blind spots,
and government-funded
fucking trauma credentials.

target: 💥 female. pregnant. under-resourced.
timeline: t-minus 9 months to annihilation.

🇺🇸

🔍 PHASE I: INTEL & TARGET CONDITIONING

"if you know the terrain, you own the war." – sun tzu / your f.o.b. roommate

operational steps:

1. recon early. pick a woman smarter, more stable, and absolutely morally superior to you.

2. mirror her values. fake a spiritual awakening. talk therapy. pretend you want a kid.

3. establish financial dependency. no job? perfect.

4. initiate love-bombing. weaponize combat excuses like suppressive fire.

codeword: “i want a family.”
translation: i need a fucking hostage.

🧠 PHASE II: PSYOPS + CONTROL

"deny, deflect, dominate." – ranger doctrine for civilian entanglement

operational steps:

1. cut off external comms. (see: friends, money, resources, outsiders.)

2. erode confidence. gaslight. deflect. invalidate.

3. introduce fear cycles. intimidation drills disguised as “conflict.”

4. establish plausible deniability. cry in front of her. tell her you feel unsafe.

bonus: call the cops on her. 🇺🇸
create a first-response narrative.
control the frame = control the future affidavit.

💥 PHASE III: PHYSICAL ENGAGEMENT

“energetically will i meet the enemies (pregnant women) of my country. i shall defeat them (manually strangle and punch them in the head) on the field of battle (in our marital home)…”

operational steps:

• engage when terrain is soft.

  • pregnancy

  • illness

  • isolation

  • postpartum

• aim for:

  • throat (control)

  • skull (disorientation)

  • abdomen (plausible deniability)

• leave no evidence...
  unless the bruises hit right under her eyes.
  (then say “she fell.”)

🪖 PHASE IV: COVER & CONCEALMENT

acknowledge that as an elite predator, my country permanently expects me to manipulate further, profiteer faster, and destroy harder than any other “husband.”

never shall i help my spouse.

i will remain mentally absent, emotionally void, physically invisible—and morally fucking bankrupt.
“shouldering more than my share” means pushing off every burden onto her.

operational steps:

• invoke the uniform.

  • ranger 🇺🇸

  • combat vet 🇺🇸

  • special forces 🇺🇸

  • goddamn hero (optional)

• deploy diversion language:

  • “discipline issue”

  • “ptsd episode”

  • “she’s just crazy”

  • “this is a family matter”

  • “don’t ruin his future”

• use chain of command to block accountability.

  • j.a.g.

  • veterans affairs

  • military therapist

  • “classified deployment trauma”

💰 PHASE V: EXTRACTION

“i will never leave a fallen comrade”
unless she’s
your baby’s mom.
your lawful wife.
or the woman
you gave
two black eyes.

operational steps:

1. disappear.

2. relocate across state lines.

3. enroll in college, again.

4. tell the judge you’re “rebuilding.”

5. never pay child support.

bonus: get bonded out with money that should’ve bought your kid diapers.

aka: “no man left behind—unless she’s bleeding.”

💀 PHASE VI: LEGAL SHIELD OPS

i will never let the truth see the light of day in the court of public opinion.
instead, i’ll use every loophole—lawyers, military status, gaslighting, and privilege—to disappear clean,
after financially exploiting my wife and the mother of my child.

operational steps:

1. retain an attorney who salutes before speaking. 💀💀💀

2. invoke combat status in every court filing. 🇺🇸

3. deny all wrongdoing.

4. claim she’s “lying about getting punched.”

5. plead the goddamn golden boy standard.

6. deflect, deflect, deflect.

🛡️ goal: run out the fucking clock.
💸 bonus: make her pay to fucking survive.

👏🏽 AFTER ACTION REPORT:

bodies: 2 💀💀

• one living, walking shell of a fucking woman.

• one baby without a father who gives a fuck.

evidence destroyed:

• most of it.
  (but she kept fucking screenshots. oops.)

mission success rating: pending extradition.

SUA SPONTE 🎖️🫡

“of my own accord”

yeah my dude,
you did that shit.
not because you were ordered.
not because of PTSD.
not because of the combat.
not because your lawyer said “go no contact.”

you.
chose.
this.

🇺🇸🫡

because you’re a fucking manipulative, abusive, coward. 🪖🎖️

✨ RANGERS LEAD THE WAY ✨

the great fuck-this escape 🖕🙂 (part three: restraining orders & revelations)

✶

part 3

the part that still
blows my fucking mind—
when i finally filed
for a restraining order?

i didn’t want to.
i felt fucking bad—
isn’t that insane?
because i didn’t want to
fucking hurt him,
or fuck up his life 💀💀
despite (!!!)
(his confirmed, explicit, violent fucking crimes)
his absolute lack of fucks—
while directly
fucking us over.
fucking threatening me.
fucking draining the accounts.
fucking harassing me—
repeatedly.

but not to see his kid.

ok bro.

yo—
i didn’t dream of being
“that wife in court.” ✨
i wanted him to get normal.
to stop lying.
to stop draining my money,
promising GI bill tuition 🇺🇲
and to be a fucking dad,
then bailing to texas
for a job (lol)
and then fucking school?
never sending shit—
while i’m left broke,
raising our baby alone,
stack of fucking bills
wondering if he been cheating
the whole goddamn time,
with the office gremlin
or literally just
fucking anyone
who gave
him any
fucking attention.

but the day i filed?
yo—
they asked,
“have you ever had one before?”

i said no.
they said,
“wait, you’re in the system.”

💀🔪📂

turns out,
the O.G. asshole—
my dad—
obviously had
restraining orders
in the same fucking county.
the same courthouse
where my father’s name
sat on fucking DV files
is the one where
i had to drag my
nine-months-postpartum
fucking body
to protect myself
and my daughter
✨from my own goddamn husband. ✨

that was the
most wack-ass
fucking foreshadowing.
violence is apparently
genetic ✨
in this bloodline,
and i was
the one
who had to
slam the fucking door shut.

and once i did,
reality hit:
the house i thought
we’d hide in
from one monster—
immediately becomes
a danger zone
with the goddamn original,
fucking obviously.
so now,
it was me,
my daughter,
and a cycle i refused to fucking repeat.

so i packed my shit.
alone.
no squad.
my mom suggested
i move into a shed.
a literal fucking shed.
while me and my baby
bounced
between couches,
cars, and nowhere.

just like she did.

and still—
heroes showed the fuck up.
not many.
but enough.

my best friend.
the one with a
golden fucking heart.
the one who,
when i told her everything—
the spit in my face,
the truth from the c-section
with two black eyes,
my dad’s house of childhood terror,
the monsters in both men—
she didn’t cringe.
she fucking nodded
with goddamn tears in her eyes.
and suited the fuck up.
because:
she got it.
she checked in.
she understood the motherfucking assignment.

when i had to cut
when i got that fucking call?
bitch just looked at me
mid-fucking-road-trip
michigan to colorado—
this down-ass
ride or fucking die
just handed me
her fucking credit card
didn’t say a fucking word—
and without a fucking
second thought,
helped me:
dump the car,
hop a fucking plane,
and literally rip my daughter
out of new jersey
after my family tried
to leave her there?

nah,
over my goddamn dead body. 🪓

so i did it. ✂️
i got the fuck out.
twice.
and when i got back,
she was waiting.
cleaning my fucking condo,
making sure we had
a safe place to land.

lending me her goddamn sister,
raising funds for furniture,
calling her mom and dad to send help,

bro.

my fucking heart.

another hero:
the bad bitch who flew in,
bought fucking everything,
helped me set it up,
held my kid for a week straight—
no questions asked.

but that’s it.
the rest?
during this era?
true fucking villains.
family who left us on our own—
and tried to leave my goddamn kid—
in the same fucking environments
that fucked me up,
while gaslighting me into thinking
that shit was “normal”
or “unchangeable.”

nah, i don’t fucking think so.

🥊🤡

not this time.
not my kid.
not this life.

final fucking betrayal? ✨
because it only took one second—
seeing them try
to normalize her being left
with that abusive fuck—
for me to realize
nothing
they did to me was okay.
not then.
not ever.
not the abandonment.
not the minimization.
not the “probably your fault”
family fucking motto. 🤡

and the fake-ass “friends”?
🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
the ones who swore
they’d be fucking “aunties”?
the one who brought me
a bagel like twice and
texted from down
the goddamn street
on my birthday
but never lifted a fucking finger
when it actually mattered?
they don’t count.
effortless, empty, performative bullshit.

the only real support i had?
strangers online.
the people DM’ing me,
sending late-night venmo payments,
voice memos,
rooting me on when no one in my bloodline would.
@samseesworld gave me an audience,
but you gave me courage.

and the men?
fucking mistakes.
all of them.
babydaddy with his “combat hero/ivy” delusions.
the random-ass
“maybe-he-won’t-suck-this-time”
fucking distraction
who turned out, shockingly,
to be another
fucking manipulator.
because all of them
proved the same shitty thing:
they never loved me.
not even for a second.
they just wanted to fuck,
to lean on me,
to use me for stability
i didn’t even have left to give.

when i fucking needed help.

so that’s where they all go—
into the fucking trash can labeled mistakes.
not partners.
not boyfriends.
not chapters.
not even fucking footnotes.
just fucking mistakes.

✶

escape part three is fucking transparency:
heroes are rare.
villains are fucking everywhere.
and the system?
built to watch you die slowly
unless you turn your pain
into fucking evidence.

the escape continues—
but the next chapter?
it’s not just survival anymore.
it’s goddamn retaliation.

it’s fucking justice.

🥀

“your honor, they can eat shit: everyone knew”

baby.
the actual wildest shit?
this was not a secret.

like,
the funniest fucking part
about watching those
goddamn liars in court?
they really had the fucking audacity,
the motherfucking balls—
to stand there like no one knew.
psych—guess the client
didn’t fill you
the fuck in.

so newsflash motherfuckers:
as if i didn’t roll
into the fucking hospital
for a fucking c-section—
with two black eyes.
as if no one fucking asked.
as if
my own friends
didn’t side-eye
the shit out of me
and say,
“that doesn’t look
like you fell down the stairs.”

DING DING DING

✨ motherfucking winners ✨

because yeah—
i told the stair story.
in the ER.
because i knew the cops
weren’t going to protect me.
because i was on my own,
with a 67-year-old mother
on fucking facetime,
bleeding out
mid-fucking-assault,
while my stepdad watched
in motherfucking real time.
yeah, they knew.
my hubby knows
they fucking knew.

baby—
this was a
regular,
ongoing—
conversation
once we relocated.

💫

because when my family
asked me point blank,
“did he punch you?”
lol, yeah bitches
i told them the truth.
because i knew.
this motherfucker was
not fucking around.

homicide was on the horizon. 💫

babe—
i knew i wasn’t crazy.
i knew i wasn’t wrong.
yo—i could barely fucking walk.
so,
i knew i had enough
fucking proof
even with the victim-blaming
absolute dogshit—
that when the time came,
i could stare a sheriff
dead the fuck
in the face and say,
“fuck off, get me the DA.”

so for you
to walk into court
now
like,
“she’s fucking lying…”
bitch, shut the fuck up.
babyboy (!)—
there’s half a state
full of motherfucking people
that knew the depths of your crimes
before they even signed the goddamn warrant

and you know that.

babe—

💡 you confessed.

many.
fucking.
times.

💡 you repented.
💡 you fucking begged.
💡 you enrolled in more counseling.
💡 you got on those meds.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

sweetheart—
you took ownership,
and i really thought
you were
fucking growing.

🌱

babe, we were there.

so yo homie—
i know you have that
”gi joe ivy league degree”
but stop insulting everyone’s intelligence.

and while we’re here—
northwestern fucking mutual.
you thought it was funny as hell
to tell me,
after i became your client,
after he drained my lifesavings,
after the constant contact,
after i paid for your bullshit—
that the weirdo-below-mid-level-chick
my abusive husband
talked to non-fucking-stop,
the one
who made
everyone
fucking uncomfortable,
the one
glued to his
fucking phone
seemingly
our entire fucking marriage—
that she was in
a “close, awkward,
personal relationship” with him?

💫

LMFAO.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

you thought that
was fucking funny?
listen.
nobody laughed.
not my friends.
not my family.
definitely not fucking me.
because attention dipshits—
if anyone
had known
he had dual loyalty
to that annoying-ass
-zero-fucking-boundaries chick?
while begging
for fucking forgiveness?
for beating my goddamn ass,
to some little creepy obsessed
coworker fixation
he openly paraded the fuck around,
under the guise of
motherfucking professionalism—
he would’ve been
gone instantly.
kicked the fuck out.
evicted from my fucking life.
and i wouldn’t
have had to burn
through three
more fucking moves
ducking homicide—
and tens of thousands
of fucking dollars
just to survive
with the goddamn
war hero.

🇺🇸🎖️💥🥊👑🫡

you are true assholes.

because yo:
you hid that shit.
you concealed it.
you slapped her name
on my fucking accounts
like it was a “professional”
fucking relationship.
giggled as she texted
my legal fucking husband—
smirked as you
fucking told me about it,
and you created
a monster of a situation
you couldn’t even begin
to fucking handle.

🗣 so let’s go there:

→ criminal cases?
way harder to prove than civil ones.
so ask yourself—

→ do you think they extradite someone
on a two-year-old felony warrant
if they don’t think
they can fucking win?

nah, baby.
→ you’re fucking tripping.
those lawyer’s are really feeding
you some hero bullshit, aren’t they?
you clearly don’t know
the fucking DV system at all.

💡

babe—
you don’t get this far,
unless they got mad proof.

and baby, you know they do.

🗣🗣🗣

because it happened,
and you fucking know that.
better than fucking anyone.

so sweetie,
good luck with that.

i’ll see all of you in fucking hell.

🇺🇸 🦅🔥