"I Never Thought I'd Make It Out Alive": A Survivors Story of Breaking the Cycle

Key Takeaways:

• Abuse often begins long before adulthood. Early exposure to violence shapes how survivors understand relationships and increases vulnerability later in life. 
• Surviving abuse is only the first step. Long-term safety and healing often depend on access to advocacy, resources and sustained support.
• Survivors can break the cycle—and help others do the same. By turning her lived experience into action, Monya Engle-Sullivan now helps others find safety and stability.

“I know what it’s like to have your world turned upside down,” says Monya Engle-Sullivan, an administrative assistant at a domestic violence advocacy organization in Florida called Serene Harbor. Years earlier, Engle-Sullivan had to find her own way out of a relationship with an abusive partner—one she and her daughter narrowly survived.

“We had a high-lethality case, and this woman’s story was almost identical to mine,” she says, referring to another survivor’s case that had passed through her desk. The survivor described her abusive partner’s “dark eyes” before he strangled her. It was a description that Engle-Sullivan knew all too well—a look that signaled a potentially deadly shift. 

“It was very reminiscent. I had to do a lot of self-care after that one,” she says. But that survivor’s story didn’t end there. “That woman now is thriving. And doing so well for herself.”  

Abusive Roots That Grew in Childhood

The abuse first started with Engle-Sullivan’s mother when she was a child. Unlike most childhood abuse dynamics, it was her mother who was the perpetrator. 

“My dad was the nurturer, the kind one. My mother was the polar opposite. I remember having to flee the house several times because she threatened to kill my dad.”

Still, her parents remained together. “He took his vows seriously and forgave her.”

She believes her birth intensified her mother’s resentment. “The sun no longer rose and sat on her when I was born.” And when her mom directed that resentment toward her daughter, it came in the form of mental and physical abuse. 

“She had some crazy ideas of what punishment should look like. If I was crying, she would slap me until I stopped crying.”

Engle-Sullivan hid the spatulas, wooden spoons and fly swatters in their home “so she wouldn’t hit me with them,” she remembers. Her mother made her kneel on rice or grits as another way to discipline her through pain. If the young girl didn’t finish her dinner, her mother made her sleep at the kitchen table and eat the cold, sometimes spoiled food in the morning. If she got sick, she had to eat it again. 

“She never did any of this when my dad was home, and she would lie to him about it,” she says. She suspects her father knew, on some level, that his daughter was a target. 

“He told her, ‘If I ever find out, I will take her from you and leave.’” But, it never happened.

In her teenage years, she made sure to stay gone from the house as much as possible, graduating high school early at 17. What followed was not stability but escape. Her tumultuous home life led her to “running crazy,” she remembers. She hung out mostly with a party crowd, and at 17, she was the survivor of a stranger sexual assault. 

Gaslit into Danger

At 18, Engle-Sullivan became pregnant. While she describes her daughter’s father as a committed and loving parent today, that was far from the case at the time.

“He was mentally and emotionally abusive,” she says. “He put me through hell.”

When their daughter was just two months old, he left Engle-Sullivan for her best friend, leaving her to care for the baby alone. She describes feeling untethered. Looking back, she says she understands why the next chapter unfolded the way it did.

“My childhood set me up for relationships that weren’t the best.” 

When she entered a new relationship, she was unfamiliar with “love-bombing,”, but in retrospect, she knows that’s the tactic her new partner utilized at first. 

“He was there for me, he really cared about me, or so I thought. I was in so deep when he started to gaslight me.”

It was little things at first—Engle-Sullivan would put her keys down in the same place every day after work, but the next morning, she’d find them in the bathroom. Her boyfriend told her he saw her put them there. 

“He’d siphon the gas out of my car just to make me think I used more gas than I did. I felt like I was going crazy.” It wasn’t accidental. Her boyfriend’s abuse took a far more sinister turn after that. He struck her at first, then began sexually assaulting her and finally, strangling her—the most lethal indicator that an abuser is capable of murder. Engle-Sullivan tried to leave several times. 

“The fourth time I left was the morning he came close to killing me,” she says. He beat her for several hours and strangled her. She saw his eyes turn a chilling, emotionless black.

“Unless you’ve seen them, you don’t know what it’s like,” she says. 

 She remembers praying silently. 

“God, if you get me out of this, I promise you I will not come back.” Miraculously, he let her go and she took off running. 

Though he never served time for his abuse (a reality many survivors face because of limited evidence or fear of retaliation), a judge granted Engle-Sullivan a lifetime restraining order.

“The judge said he was one of the most manipulative men he’d ever met,” she remembers.

From Trauma to Action

Only 23 years old and caring for a baby, Engle-Sullivan started the process of rebuilding her life. She bounced between entry-level jobs—bartending, office work,  anything she could do to keep a roof over their heads. 

She landed an administrative role at the Department of Corrections. She was assigned to review the letters inmates sent and received, which turned out to be a fascinating study in the psychology of criminals. It inspired her to enroll in college and get a bachelor’s degree in psychology. 

A job opened at a domestic violence shelter working with children. The work was meaningful but emotionally exhausting, and the pay barely covered her bills.

“I would buy gallons of whole milk and split it with water for my daughter. There were days I would go without food so she could eat,” she recalls.

When another job in case management offered higher pay, she took it—but the hours were long (sometimes 12 or 13 a day), leaving her little time with her daughter. She asked if she could return to the shelter in an administrative role. They welcomed her back, and she steadily advanced, eventually becoming program director. This time, she stayed, building a career where she could make a difference.

She’s 44 now, remarried with stepchildren and grandchildren, whom she says she “enjoys so much I can’t stand it.” And, most importantly, she’s broken the intergenerational cycle of abuse that ran through her family.

“My mom was raised Russian and was abused, I know that. Her sisters broke the cycle, but she didn’t.”

Her mother now lives in a nursing home a few towns over. She has multiple sclerosis, and Engle-Sullivan says some days are better than others—but she still feels a responsibility to care for her mother. Her father has passed away, an event her mother blamed on Engle-Sullivan.

“I grew to learn that she would never acknowledge the abuse and never apologize for it,” Engle-Sullivan said, “because, in her mind, it never happened.”

She focuses, instead, on helping survivors who are where she once was. 

“My legacy of all that abuse was turned into something so beautiful that’s going to go on for years. For me, that’s everything. That’s all I need. It’s worth every second—it sounds crazy, but I appreciate what I survived.”

Where Can Domestic Violence Survivors Go for Help?

Engle-Sullivan still remembers the name of the Fort Myers, Fla., advocate who helped her when she was in the midst of abuse and trauma—Daniel. It was unique in the early 2000s to have a male advocate at a domestic violence shelter, but Daniel was “so great with me,” she remembers. She wishes she could thank him today. 

Survivors, like Engle-Sullivan, shouldn’t hesitate to reach out to a local domestic violence organization for support, even if they’re not ready to leave. There are no requirements for calling a shelter—you don’t even have to give out your name. Sometimes, all a survivor needs to hear are those three life-changing words: “I believe you.”

“Our center has a text line as well if you can’t call,” points out Engle-Sullivan.

To find your nearest domestic violence advocacy group, visit our Get Help page and enter your ZIP code. 

What Are Available Domestic Violence Resources?

The multitude of services that domestic violence agencies offer go far beyond emergency temporary housing (though that is one of them), says Engle-Sullivan. Survivors can also expect to find:

• Safety planning
• Emergency shelter
• Pet boarding or temporary fostering to help survivors escape
• More permanent relocation assistance
• Counseling and support groups
• Children’s services (e.g.,counseling, intermittent childcare)
• Legal help and support when visiting a courthouse
• Help with job searching (e.g., resume writing)

And yes, says Engle-Sullivan, male survivors of domestic violence can also expect the same level of support as female survivors. 

“Serene Harbor is a smaller center, but this past year we had nine men in our outreach program,” she says, meaning the men accessed services outside of seeking shelter. 

Find Help Today

Connect with an advocate like Monya and receive help with our Get Help tool or Hope Chat (at the bottom corner of your screen). No matter where you are in your journey, support is here. With help and guidance, you can reclaim your life, just as Monya did