Rose CARLSON

A naked exploration of one woman's life fully lived.

If you made it through my last post—hi. Welcome back to the sinkhole. I’ve had a few people reach out. Some whispered “same,” others offered gentle encouragement, and a handful asked the hardest question of all: “What can I even do?” So here’s the truth no one likes to say out loud: sometimes the answer…

Still Here, Still Writing—Now What?

If you made it through my last post—hi. Welcome back to the sinkhole.

I’ve had a few people reach out. Some whispered “same,” others offered gentle encouragement, and a handful asked the hardest question of all:

“What can I even do?”

So here’s the truth no one likes to say out loud: sometimes the answer isn’t get out now. Sometimes it’s survive this day. And then tomorrow, survive that one too. It’s not lazy or weak. It’s strategic. It’s what some of us have to do until the timing, resources, or strength finally show up in the same room.

But if you are stuck—trapped emotionally, legally, financially, or all three—here are a few things that might help you keep your footing, or at least remind you that you’re not crazy for feeling this hard:


1. Get Your Own Version of “Safe” in Place

“Safe” doesn’t always mean gone. Sometimes, it means:

  • A separate bank account your partner doesn’t know about.
  • Digital copies of all important documents saved to a private cloud folder.
  • A burner email or phone number in case you need to contact help undetected.
  • One person—just one—who knows the truth. Who believes you. Who doesn’t ask why you’re still there.

You don’t have to tell everyone. You just need one lighthouse.


2. Document Everything

It sucks. It’s retraumatizing. It feels petty. But it can save your ass.

Keep a log. Screenshots. Photos. Emails. Dates. Threats. Bruises. Voicemails. Even if you’re not ready to use them in court, you’ll have a record when you are ready. Because trust me: abusers gaslight. They rewrite history. But the truth in your own handwriting? That doesn’t lie.


3. Use the Systems—Even If They’re Broken

I know. I know. I just wrote a whole essay about how broken the system is. But sometimes, you still need to file that police report. You still need to call the DV hotline. You still need to talk to a family law attorney and say the words:
“I don’t want to leave yet. I just want to know what would happen if I did.”

That one call can change your understanding of what’s possible.


4. Mental Health Is Not Optional

You don’t need to be in full-blown crisis to talk to someone. Whether it’s therapy, EMDR, group support, or a trauma-informed coach—please, please seek someone who is trained to walk people through emotional hell.

If therapy feels out of reach:

  • Check with local universities (many have sliding scale clinics).
  • Use apps like BetterHelp or Open Path Collective.
  • Look for DV-focused nonprofits—many offer free trauma support.

You’re not “crazy.” You’re living in crazy. That’s a huge difference.


5. Creative Survival Is Still Survival

Journaling. Voice notes. Secret Instagram accounts. Poetry. Messy painting. Blogging under a pseudonym. If you’re still creating in any form, you’re still reclaiming your story—even if it doesn’t fix anything tangible yet.

Don’t underestimate the power of saying “This happened to me” in your own words.


6. When You’re Ready to Leave—Here’s a Place to Start

Leaving is often the most dangerous part. So when you’re ready, do not do it alone.

  • Call the National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233 or text “START” to 88788.
  • Reach out to your local women’s shelter. Many provide legal help, emergency housing, and restraining order assistance.
  • Meet with a divorce attorney before leaving to understand what “half” really means. Sometimes it’s more navigable than you think.
  • If there are weapons in the home, talk to your attorney or a DV advocate before confronting anyone.

7. You Don’t Owe Anyone a Resolution

You don’t have to be “healed.”
You don’t have to explain why you stayed.
You don’t have to inspire anyone.
You don’t even have to tell your story if you don’t want to.

Surviving is enough.

Living through this makes you a badass in ways the world will never fully understand. And if today, your only accomplishment is staying alive and not throwing your phone at a wall—you’re doing just fine.


You’re not alone. You’re not crazy. You’re not weak. You’re in it.

And one day—not today maybe, but someday—you won’t be.

Until then, I’ll keep writing from the bottom of this hole. Sending up smoke signals.

If you see them, feel free to send one back.

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