Written by Julie Vilaboy*

When you have spent years surviving, you can’t imagine what peace looks like. Then you meet someone who has walked the same road, found healing, and reached back to help you take your next step.

I quietly prepared for my escape.

Then the day came.

I walked out with a suitcase.

One suitcase for me. One suitcase for each of my two kids.

I was out of the space he and I shared as a home, but there’s no way to prepare for what it is like to leave your home after abuse, your photographs, your memories – the place that holds your entire life – carrying that grief, and then still feel terrified.

Every noise made me jump. Headlights approaching on the road could leave me shaking and crying.

I was removed from the bank account and locked out of the credit card. I entered an unfamiliar legal world I never imagined that I would have to navigate and then began the long work of recovery.

In the aftermath of fleeing abuse, I felt alone. My family was far away, and when I tried to share my fear with them and the reality of what was happening, my family slowly pulled back.

A woman I met told me to contact Called to Peace Ministries (CTPM). She told me they had connected her with an advocate who understood her and helped her start rebuilding.

In the fog that filled my mind, I reached out.

I didn’t even know what to say.

How do you ask for help when you don’t even know what you need?

I was immediately connected with an advocate who listened and understood me through the tears and chaos that consumed my words.

She was gentle. I could feel her calm.

I kept saying, “I don’t know,” on repeat.

Yet, she understood my confusion. She understood my fear.

And for the first time, I realized I wasn’t walking this journey alone.

Within days, I had practical resources, safety information, and someone who understood the confusing world I had suddenly walked into. She reached out consistently when I needed to speak but didn’t have the strength to call, when I was confused, when the pain felt so intense, and the world seemed to be collapsing around me.

She helped me understand what the months ahead might actually look like.

She gently suggested that I complete a danger assessment. We reviewed it together, and the results confirmed what my body already knew:

I was still at high risk. Seeing it named gave me clarity.

My fear had a reason.

That assessment also became an important resource as I navigated the legal process, helping others understand the seriousness of my experience.

What I remember most, though, wasn’t a form or a checklist.

It was her presence.

She listened without rushing me and understood the confusion, grief, and exhaustion trauma leaves behind.

She reminded me that peace was something I could learn to find again.

Before I had words for what was happening, my advocate loaned me her presence, her calm, and her understanding—and opened a path toward recovery.

And that healing didn’t stop with me.

My children had walked out carrying suitcases too. They had lived through the fear and upheaval alongside me. As I began to find safety, stability, and peace, I was helping create something different for them, too.

I’ve noticed that so much of their healing has come through watching me heal. 

The stronger I became, the more peace and clarity I found –  and the more they seemed to follow. They look to me as they navigate their own healing, finding stability and peace as they see it taking root in me.

Abuse impacts generations. Healing can too.

If you’re reading this while wondering whether anyone could possibly understand what you’re carrying, I want you to know this: there are people who do.

They’ll meet you where you are, help you take the next step, and remind you that peace isn’t something reserved for other people.

Healing is possible, and you don’t have to find your way there alone.

Today, I get to say the words I once couldn’t find.

I get to share my story, my resilience, and my calm with others.

And I am so honored to say:

Thank you, Called to Peace Ministries.

 

*The photo in the banner is a woman CTPM has served but isn’t Julie