Rock and Roll Saved My Soul

On average, nearly 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner in the United States. this equates to more than 10 million women and men per year. Domestic violence isn’t just about being physically abused. It’s also about the emotional and psychological side, too. Come on a journey with others who have experienced domestic violence and are willing to share their stories, to show everyone else out there that they have a chance. Fighting Chance is a book of stories and poetry for those who have dealt with domestic violence and are sharing how they stood up to it and have moved on with their life. It wasn’t easy for most of us. And some of us still may struggle with it, but we want to reach out to others who may be going through something similar and let them know you don’t have to put up with it. Find your voice and fight back. Amazon Goodreads

The me too. movement has built a community of survivors from all walks of life. By bringing vital conversations about sexual violence into the mainstream, we're helping to de-stigmatize survivors by highlighting the breadth and impact sexual violence has on thousands of women, and we’re helping those who need it to find entry points to healing. Ultimately, with survivors at the forefront of this movement, we're aiding the fight to end sexual violence. We want to uplift radical community healing as a social justice issue and are committed to disrupting all systems that allow sexual violence to flourish. Fighting Chance Volume Two will focus not only on domestic abuse, but also any kind of sexual violence, including rape, sexual harassment, etc. for both women and men. Share your story, let the healing begin, and stop allowing behavior such as these to flourish.  Submissions are due August 31, 2018 Send them to: rockandrollsavedmysoul2014@gmail.com with ...

Karma  by Anonymous  I watched my mom be abused for many years—seventeen to be exact, so you would think I could spot the signs ten miles away, but I was wrong. I met him April 15 th , 2007. It was like those story book moments where you’re with a friend but connect with someone on such a higher level. We talked for hours, had a couple drinks, and I forced myself to go home. All I could think about was him. His eyes. His smile. And oh, the way his lips tasted when he kissed me good night. Three minutes is all it took—three minutes to steal my heart and three minutes to begin the worst nine years of my life. The abuse started June 21st, 2007. He called me a dumbass because he wanted to be single for his 21st birthday. Now mind you I had moved me and my son who was just over the age of one into his tiny apartment because he wanted me around all the time (that’s the first sign, control). Fast forward a year. I stopped contact with him for about eight months. I...