After an abusive 19-year marriage and then a two-year engagement that turned out to be just as harmful, I truly believed I would spend the rest of my life raising my three kids on my own. I had lost trust in love and men, and it was going to take nothing short of a miracle to change my mind. Little did I know, that miracle was on its way.
Six years ago, life with my husband Joe, the father of my children, had become unbearable. At first, his abuse was emotional, manipulation, cruel words, constant criticism. Over time, it grew into physical violence. I was a shell of a person. Years of being told I was worthless had stripped me of my confidence. He convinced me the punishments were always my fault and that no one cared about me anyway. I was drowning and couldn’t see a way out.
Then, one night in April of 2016, everything changed. Joe flew into one of his violent rages, which ended with him stabbing himself. Our oldest son, just sixteen at the time, bravely called 911. That phone call started the chain of events that saved us. Once Joe was gone, I focused on keeping us safe and creating a new life for my kids, my “trifecta.” For the first time, I let the world outside our four walls see the truth.
It was hard for my children to realize that not every home looked like ours. They thought it was normal for dads to punch holes in walls or throw knives. It broke my heart when my oldest told a therapist, “We had a bully, not a dad.” Slowly, I began to feel free. Even the smallest choices, like how to style my hair or what color nail polish to wear, felt empowering.
Not long after, I reconnected with a childhood friend from church. I thought I had healed enough to give love another chance. The relationship started well, and since our families had known each other for years, I felt safe. We got engaged, and I moved my kids across the country to be with him. But as soon as we arrived, everything fell apart. He installed cameras in the house, yelled at me over tiny things, and tried to control my daughter’s access to me. It was all too familiar. I called off the wedding, but the damage had been done. My kids were hurting again, and I was ashamed I had led us back into another toxic home.
Back at square one in a new state, I put my kids back into therapy and started intensive therapy myself. I had to face the hard truth: I was the common link in these unhealthy relationships. I was determined to understand why I kept choosing abuse and how to change. I told myself that from now on, it would just be me and my trifecta. Surprisingly, I didn’t find that idea lonely and I found it powerful.
But life had another plan. Around the same time, I started following the journey of a man named Matty Gregg, someone I had met briefly through my ex. He was running across the country over 5,400 miles, to raise awareness for firefighter cancer support. His determination was incredible. In January 2019, I reached out with a simple message of encouragement. That small step grew into daily conversations. At first, I told him I only wanted friendship, and he respected that. But when he had a close call during his run, I realized he had become my best friend. The kids loved chatting with him too, and before long, we couldn’t imagine life without him.
At first, I worried about trusting someone with my children again. But then came a defining moment. We were with Matty in Alabama, walking through Kelly Ingram Park. My youngest daughter asked difficult questions about the civil rights movement, and Matty knelt beside her, answering with such patience and care. She walked beside him, not looking back for me once, a huge step for a child who had never left my side. In that moment, I knew he belonged in our story.
Matty proposed in 2020, and we married in his childhood home, which is now ours. Not long after, each of my kids, without knowing the others had done the same, asked Matty to adopt them. In January 2021, their wishes came true.
Our journey started in pain and survival, but today it is about healing and thriving. Words will never fully capture the gratitude I feel for Matty or the pride I carry for my children. Together, we have built a life filled with love, respect, and peace. After everything, I can finally say: we didn’t just survive, we are thriving.
