⚠️ This piece contains references to abuse, sexual violence, and political trauma.
Dear America,
First, I want to tell you how much I love you. I see that you are hurting, and I know why you cry. In so many ways, we are the same… outsiders with big hearts, grand ideas, and the best of intentions. We were young and naïve with an idealistic worldview and saw the best in people. We opened our arms, welcomed everyone, helped everyone, gave everything… until nothing was left.
We wanted to make the world better, to make everyone happy. But some saw our kindness as a weakness. They preyed on our good nature, twisted our ideals, and drained our resources, our trust, and our self-worth — until we were a shell of what we once were.
But I need you to know something.
There is a way to break the cycle. There is help. Once you make it through this, something so much better will be waiting on the other side.
It is easy to see how things got here. Your string of status quo partners weren’t living up to their promises, and you were tired of being repeatedly let down.
Then he comes in, dazzling and confident, making grand promises about a brighter future.
He tells you how great you are. How special. How much better, stronger, and more powerful you’ll be with him in your life. He doesn’t just promise change… he promises a return to something better, something purer. He makes you believe that you were once whole, once thriving, and only he can bring you back to that golden age.
He showers you with attention, with checks in the mail, lower gas prices, and a booming stock market. He tells you, “America First,” that the world has taken advantage of you for too long and that only he knows what’s best.
Everything is big, bold, historic… proof that he is the one you’ve been waiting for. He makes you believe he is fighting for you, that only he understands you and can fix what’s broken.
And just like that, you are hooked.
At first, it’s subtle — just little comments here and there. A mocking laugh. A dismissive wave of the hand.
But then it gets worse.
Every time you disagree, he calls you crazy, weak, a loser. He tells you that you’re stupid and unappealing and that no one else would ever love you.
He convinces you that anyone who questions him is the enemy.
They’re “fake news.”
They’re part of a conspiracy.
They’re trying to trick you.
But he loves you, and he will tell you the truth.
If things aren’t perfect, it’s not his fault. No, he inherited a mess. The last guy was the problem. Corrupt, weak, ineffective… everything wrong today is because of them.
The media? They’re lying.
The deep state? Out to get him.
The courts? Rigged.
He’s not responsible for anything, and if you even start to question him, well… he has a list of people to blame for that, too (including you).
Slowly, he starts pulling you away from those who care about you. Your friends, your family; suddenly, they’re the problem. He tells you they don’t really understand. They’re working against you. They don’t want what’s best for you, but he does.
He tells you to cut them off, that if you truly loved him, you’d only listen to him.
He does the same on the global stage by insulting allies, pulling out of agreements, and picking fights where none existed before. Siding with people who actively work against your interests because, after all, he knows best.
Then, little by little, he starts taking things from you.
Your education? Useless.
Your job? Holding you back.
The things you love, the things that bring you joy, the things that make you, you?
All distractions.
He strips funding for research, guts protections for clean air and water, and pillages your natural resources — mining sacred lands, auctioning off what should have been preserved for generations.
He dismisses the scientists tracking disease outbreaks.
He fires the very people entrusted to watch the nukes.
He pulls out of climate accords and global health organizations meant to protect you.
He gambles with your safety for his own gain, and when you push back, he dismisses your fear — mocking it as weakness, labeling it hysteria.
He tells you he knows best.
You don’t need those things.
That he will take care of you.
He tells you he’s rich, the best at business, a financial genius. But somehow, it’s your money that keeps disappearing. He boasts about using and abusing financial systems, sticking others with the bill. And still, he asks for more — donations, campaign funds, legal defense fees — always promising something bigger and better that never comes.
It doesn’t take long before the rules no longer apply to him.
Not your rules.
Not anyone’s.
He breaks them openly, brags about it, dares anyone to stop him. When someone does, he fires or ignores them: Congress, the courts, federal watchdogs, and even the Constitution itself.
He acts like he is untouchable.
Above all.
And when the consequences finally come knocking — like they did (twice) when he was in your life last time, and again after you separated — he doesn’t apologize.
And now, as he stands trial for crimes committed in your name — classified documents hoarded, votes tampered with, hush money exchanged like silence is currency — he still refuses to take responsibility.
No, he rages.
It’s all a conspiracy. It’s a deep-state takedown — a setup. A corrupt plot to destroy him.
He can’t stand the thought of losing you.
Even when you’ve made it clear you’re done, he refuses to accept it.
He clings, screams, accuses you of betrayal.
“It was stolen,” he says.
“Rigged.”
“Unfair.”
His rhetoric turns darker.
He calls his enemies “vermin.”
Promises retribution.
Deportations.
Camps.
He tells his followers to stand back and stand by —
and quietly suggests that next time, they won’t have to wait for permission.
He doesn’t care what burns, so long as he stays in control.
He lets loose, unhinged and unfiltered. He shouts down anyone who challenges him, belittles those he once praised, and lashes out at your allies.
He yells, insults, throws tantrums — until the whole world sees what you’ve known in your heart but were too scared to admit to yourself.
The mask has slipped. And now, finally, you see him for what he truly is.
It’s okay.
I’ve been there.
I know what it feels like to realize that the person who once made me feel so strong, important, and seen… was never who he claimed to be.
Just like you, I was isolated from the people I loved — the ones who truly cared about me. My time, my money, my self-worth — everything — was taken and used against me. A weapon, sharpened by my own love and trust.
And when things went wrong? It was always my fault.
When he cheated.
When he stole from me.
When he crashed my car, hit me, raped me…
it was always my fault.
At least, that’s what he told me.
I know what it’s like to wake up one day and realize that all those things you thought were “just jokes”?
He really meant. That you aren’t safe. That you never were.
And I know that moment of horrible clarity, the one that hits like a punch to the gut — the moment where you see, with terrifying certainty, that if you don’t make a change right now, you are going to die.
Mine came when he turned to me, that wicked grin spreading across his face.
“I already know how I want to kill you,” he said.
I laughed. I thought he was joking.
“LMAO, how’s that?”
He leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath.
His eyes lit up with something cold.
Something hungry.
“I’m going to choke you,” he whispered, “so that I can watch the light leave your eyes.”
And later, he did… choke me, that is. He broke my grandmother’s necklace I always wore with the force of it.
I’m lucky to be alive.
I know what it’s like to sit in the wreckage — holding the pieces of a life you don’t recognize, wondering how it all happened. To be so hurt, so used up, so lost that the idea of leaving feels just as terrifying as staying.
I know what it’s like to think: Maybe this is just who I am now. Maybe this is all I deserve.
But that’s not true.
It was never true.
And I need you to hear me now, America:
You are not broken.
You are not beyond saving.
And you are not alone.
What he did to you, what he is still doing to you, is not love.
It is not strength.
It is not patriotism…
It is abuse.
And the moment you can name it for what it is —
that’s the moment you begin to take your power back.
It’s okay not to have all the answers yet.
You don’t have to be brave all the time.
Leaving someone like him isn’t just about walking away,
it’s about remembering who you were before he convinced you that you were nothing.
It’s about looking in the mirror and saying, “He does not get to define me anymore.”
It begins quietly, courageously — with a boundary drawn,
a peaceful protest,
a vote cast,
a clear refusal.
It starts with reaching for the hand of someone who still believes in you,
someone who’s been waiting for you to remember your own power.
And once you start?
Once you say no more?
He will rage.
He will threaten.
He will try to rewrite history, to make you doubt yourself again.
But this time, you’ll know the truth.
This time, you’ll see the patterns.
And this time… you won’t be alone.
Because there are millions of us who have been where you are —
Who heard the promises,
believed the lies,
bore the bruises,
and broke the cycle.
And now we’re here,
holding the door open.
It’s time.
Come with us.
Let’s get free.
Once you take that first step — no matter how small — you’ll find we’ve already helped you clear a path.
We’ll walk beside you while your hands shake.
We’ll help you speak truth when your voice cracks.
We’ll wait with you in the quiet when it all feels too heavy.
Because healing doesn’t happen all at once. It’s not a grand speech or a perfect headline.
It’s quiet at first.
It’s the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
The weight you finally set down.
The first time you sleep through the night without flinching.
It’s walking past the wreckage of what he broke and realizing you are still standing.
And from that standing comes movement.
You reconnect with people who held the line while you were lost.
You relearn the sound of your own voice.
You stop flinching every time someone says “patriotism,”
because now you know the difference between loyalty and submission.
You rebuild — slowly, tenderly — with your own hands.
You choose leaders who listen, not ones who demand.
You speak truth, even when your voice shakes.
You protect those still trapped.
You rise for those who can’t yet stand.
And with each small act, you begin to believe it again:
That you were never weak.
You were never broken.
You were surviving.
And now… you’re healing.
You are not the version of yourself he tried to erase.
You are not lost.
You are rising.
Every time you choose truth over comfort,
every time you choose community over control,
every time you vote, speak, protect, and love boldly —
you take another piece of your power back.
He will not save you.
He never meant to.
But we will.
We — the survivors, the protectors, the dreamers, the fighters —
We the People — will build something better.
Where truth and justice really are for all. Not just for ourselves, but for the ones who come after us.
Because we aren’t simply healing… we’re transforming.
And like all survivors do,
we will make something beautiful out of what tried to destroy us.
Never again.
Not ever.
J.E. Novak
If you or someone you know is experiencing abuse —
Please know: you are not alone, and there is help.
Visit: The National Domestic Violence Hotline
Call 1–800–799-SAFE (7233) — available 24/7.
Text “START” to 88788.
Your safety matters.
Your voice matters.
You deserve to be free.
(Note: We are cross posting this letter from Medium with permission from J.E. Novak - a survivor, a writer, and an American citizen who still believes in the promise of healing.)
