A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing: Suicide Awareness and the Silent Battles We Carry

It’s a strange feeling to sit back now, with a clear mind and vision and think about everything he put me through. Back then, it was chaos. Now, I see it for what it was—a mask, a disguise, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

To everyone else, he’s a great guy. Funny, life of the party, charming, succesful businessowner, nice to your face, quick to smile, he can make small talk and he played the part perfectly...yet, behind closed doors? That’s when the truth came out. That’s when I saw the wolf.

When Control Creeps In

In hindsight, it was the little things over time-like the day he took the keys to his car so I couldn’t leave and go to work. That may seem small, and at the time, I brushed it off. I told myself maybe he was just upset, maybe I had done something wrong. That’s the thing about abuse—you learn to explain the very things that should have been your wake-up call.

Words That Cut Deeper Than Bruises

Then there were his words. God, his words were so cruel. Some nights I wished he would hit me vs the things he said to me because at least the pain was temporary. One afternoon, my daughter saw his truck at a restaurant on her way home and in small talk, mentioned it to me. I didn’t say anything to her but at that moment, it felt like the wind was knocked out of me. I had spoken to him earlier and he told me he was going somewhere different. When he came home that night, I asked how his day was, mentioning the place he told me he was going but left out where he was. He said it was good and went into some detail. At that point all I heard was the Charlie Brown phone calls of “blah, blah.” I didn’t know how to bring it up or say anything so I didn’t. Later that night, I called and asked one of my best friends. I love her because not only would she be honest with me vs just taking my side but she doesn’t judge. Maybe I was overreacting? He overheard my conversation and was irate with me. He told me he didn’t trust me. “You’re a fu*king nut, everyone knows what you are. I tried to love you but you’re a crazy fu*k. I’m sorry for you. You had it good. You’re a user. You disrespect me. You are an embarrassment to me. I feel bad for your kids because you’ve been with so many guys. You ruined the night as usual. You’re selfish and a dirty, dirty whore. Two weeks tomorrow. I’m filing. You and your kids get out. I should have listened. Everyone told me to run. Get the fu*k out.”

A turning point was when he said to me, “I hope you die,” yelling it loud enough that my kids overheard it. He told me his friends had warned him to run from me, like I was some curse he got stuck with. He said his family didn’t trust me and thought I belonged locked up in a padded room.

When I was already emotionally worn down, he’d pile on more: telling me I wasn’t a good Mom, that I was raising “fucked up” kids, that I was “a whore, a cunt, a crazy fuck and I was the common denominator in all my failed relationships.”

I can’t tell you how many nights I sat with those words echoing in my head, wondering if maybe he was right and that’s where the danger lies. That’s where hopelessness seeps in and when no one knows what you're going through-you feel incredibly alone. When someone you love continues to tell you that you’re worthless, there comes a point where you almost start to believe it.

That’s why I’m writing this today—on Suicide Awareness Day—because those words, those attacks, can push someone to the edge. I know what it feels like to be there, to feel so unloved and unseen that you start to wonder if life is worth staying in. Sadly, I also know the heartbreak of losing a dear friend to suicide, who was in an emotionally and verbally abusive relationship. It’s real, it’s devastating and it’s why this conversation matters.

He didn’t just use words—he used circumstances. My kids and I lost track of how many times he would get mad at me and kick us out of the house. It wasn’t just cruel. It was calculated. It was meant to remind me that despite the fact that I paid all the utilities and groceries, it wasn’t my house. He wanted me to know he could snatch stability away whenever he wanted.

The Mask He Wore

What made it harder was that no one else saw this side of him. To everyone else, he was the sheep—kind, one of the guys, someone who would wine and dine his friends. I carried the shame in silence, especially when he made me out to be the problem. But masks don’t stay on forever. Eventually, the wolf always shows his teeth.

I Pray I Wake Up and You’re Gone

I’ll never forget the night he told me, “I pray I wake up and you’re gone.”

Back then, those words crushed me. They made me feel disposable, unwanted, like I didn’t matter at all. But here’s the twist—his prayer came true. My kids and I did go. And we’re better for it.

It wasn’t easy. It was terrifying. But when the day came that one of my children told me they didn’t feel safe being there, I knew without a doubt it was time.

What He Didn’t See Coming

The truth is, he thought he broke me and for a while, he did. The insults, the slammed doors, the silent treatment—it wore me down, but he underestimated me.

I wasn’t the sheep he thought he was preying on. I was the survivor.

Where I Sit Now

So yes—it’s surreal sitting here today, remembering it all with clarity. I’m proud that even after everything, I never let him turn me into someone bitter or cruel. I still showed compassion and kindness towards him after all

of this. He was in a horrific car accident and when I found out, I routinely checked on him, made & dropped off meals for him. Not because I wanted anything in return or had an ulterior motive, it was simply because that’s who I am.

It goes back to the golden rule-treat others how you’d want to be treated.

But make no mistake-he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And me? I was never the sheep.

I was the mother who kept showing up for her kids—packing lunches with a smile after crying myself to sleep, sitting in the stands cheering when my spirit was worn thin, protecting their innocence even when cruelty echoed through our walls.

I was the woman who tried to hold the pieces together, going to counseling, handing back my engagement ring and any/all jewelry he ever gave me whenever he demanded it. And then, like a twisted game, he’d slip it back on my finger when it suited his story…when he took me with him to buy a sports car or when we went to a friends destination wedding.

Why Suicide Awareness Matters

I share this not to dwell in the darkness, but because I know how many people are still there right now—sitting in silence, feeling unseen, believing the lies someone else has thrown at them. Abuse, manipulation, and cruelty can make you feel trapped and alone. They can make you believe there’s no way out.

But there is.

If you’ve ever felt like giving up, I see you. I know how heavy that hopelessness feels. Please know that your life matters. Your story isn’t over. You are not disposable. You are not broken beyond repair.

And if you’ve lost someone you love to suicide, I know the ache that never fully leaves. That’s why awareness matters—not just one day a year, but every day. Behind too many smiles, there’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing and behind too many strong faces, there are silent battles no one else can see.

He thought he buried me but I am so much stronger. It just took me a long time to fully see that and get to where I am today. This chapter may feel heavy but it’s not the ending. You are not alone and are worthy of love, healing and happiness.

If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, please reach out for help. In the U.S., you can dial 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

xoxo,

fly girl