Fleeing my Abusive Family Home: Embracing a Season of Change

As the seasons shift into Autumn, I am learning how to release my own fears and embrace a season of change that is happening within my own life, trusting that it will carry me into an abundant Spring. 

I’d like to share my journey thus far, of how I’ve been moving through family domestic violence into a life that is filled with the fruits of healing and possibility. 

---

For the past few years, I have been living with my maternal family in my childhood home, and it has been its own special circle of hell. Although one can never step into the same river twice, this is nothing new. I have written about the psychological terrorism I’ve faced at the hands of my Mother countless times, in old blogs, the memoir I published back in 2022, and in several recent essays on this platform. 

As my Mother has chosen to rot within her own unhealed wounds, her abuse towards me and other members of the household has only worsened over time. Her behavior grows more shocking, dangerous, and hurtful each time she has an outburst, causing me to feel like I am constantly on the edge of something terrible. Our relationship has deteriorated to a point of no return. 

I understand why my brother ended his life within 6 months of moving back here. This place will break your spirit if you aren’t equipped with the right tools, and especially if you are mentally fragile. There were plenty of days when I didn’t think I would make it, either—wishing MAiD was freely available for all to use. 

I’ve been here purely for economic reasons, and this is not my first time living here as an adult, however it is the longest. In the past, when I have found myself back here—I would save up a few thousand dollars and boldly launch myself back into the world, running far and fast away from this place, attempting to make it all on my own. 

I would try to find a job within an excruciatingly short period of time (which never really worked out), and then return to relying on my Art for income because that was the only thing that was ever there for me through thick and thin. Art has always made me the most money, and it has been my most accessible and reliable income stream. 

Over the years, I have learned a few things about myself…

For one, I am naturally entrepreneurial, and I am meant to work with my Creative gifts. This is how I, Nevline, am meant to carve out my space and sustain myself in this world. 

Life has always redirected me back to this knowing. I’ve chosen to trust my nature instead of internalizing the voices of those who want me to fight it; people do not value the fruits of my labor, honor my unique challenges, or believe in me. I do not aspire to be like them. 

I’ve only stayed at my family home as long as I have this time around, because I wanted to establish the route to financial stability that would allow me to release any sort of dependence on my family forever—without having to return due to lack of resources. Most of all, I wanted to do it my way, in a way that will be sustainable for me. I wanted to break the cycle, and I knew it would take time.

While I’ve cultivated a lot of beautiful things in my life during my time living here, such as my cat-sitting endeavors (which I will write about some other time) and this Substack blog—living here has been excruciatingly painful, and it has taken its toll on my mind and body. I have always been welcome here, with the unspoken condition that I make myself available as a punching bag.

Ever since my Mother finally threatened my life and sent me into a full-blown panic attack, I have been slamming my finger down on the Red Panic Button, striving to figure out a way to exit as quickly as possible. 

My financial sustainability plan has taken off but I could still not sustainably afford to move outside of my family home.

However, I need to leave. My life and sanity depends on it.

I have already been on all the waiting lists for low-income housing for months, and since I have an open case with a domestic violence agency, I also applied for domestic violence priority, which speeds up the process. But they were not approving me fast enough. My application was just sitting there, collecting dust.

My Naturopath, a Chinese immigrant, was experienced with these matters and suggested I call my state representative. It actually worked! Not only did my local Rep. call me back the same day, her assistant was extremely caring and compassionate—helping me to get my application moving along. By the following week, my priority status was confirmed. I am grateful for her. 

However, amidst the flurry of daily phone calls and late-night research about the low-income housing program I had applied to, my local housing agency informed me that it could still take up to 2 years for me to receive a housing voucher. 

Two years?!

When I received that news last month, it crushed me because I knew I could not afford to wait 2 years to leave this place. 

That is when I immediately decided that I would make myself homeless as quickly and gracefully as possible by purchasing a used car to live in. 

---

Every time I would tell someone about this exciting new endeavor, they would mask a slightly worried look on their faces, and ask if I had somewhere else to stay. The police officer I recently reported my Mom to did the same thing. 

Nope! I don’t have any friends or family to stay with. What is the problem? I am going to live in a car to free myself from domestic violence and treat it like a bohemian adventure. Plenty of people are doing it these days—get with the times!!

I figured, I could purchase the car with some of the settlement money I had recently received after getting hit by a car —and then raise my income to cover ongoing car-related costs through delivery work. 

I had a very long, elaborate, and well-researched plan written out for my car homelessness journey, including the exact make, model and year(s) I would be searching for: all within the Toyota Prius family. 

Given that I don’t know diddly-squat about cars (I have been a year-round biker since 2021) I am actually proud of how much I have learned within such a short span of time, about how to select a used Toyota and live well in it.

About two weeks into this endeavor, I received a text from an old friend who lives in a neighboring town-someone I hadn’t seen or spoken to in over a year. 

She was so excited to tell me about her new bike and how exhilarating it is to be cycling. Given that I rely on my bike for daily transportation through thick and thin, I couldn’t relate—but I was happy for her. She asked me how I was doing, and I told her the truth:

“Honestly, I’m not doing so great. Things have been hard at home and I am looking for a car to live in.”

That is when she invited me to live with her. She had been living alone in her Father’s retired commercial building for the past few years, and she had plenty of beds and space to share. 

I was very grateful for her offer, and I accepted—setting a date to visit her for the first time and discuss possibilities. 

Despite this, I still continued looking for a Toyota Prius to live in. I needed to give myself options, and I wasn’t sure if I could trust this offer, or trust her. My financial situation has made me vulnerable to a lot of bad roommate situations.  

The idea of depending on anyone for survival after being betrayed so deeply by my own Mother, was completely unacceptable. 

My version of security was to live alone, off my own money and resources—resources that could not be “cancelled” from me because of who I am. Even if I have very little-at least it is mine. 

I have also been in a lot of situations where women offer me support in my vulnerable state and use it as an opportunity to have sex with me—something I’d also like to write about in the future. I didn’t want to be taken advantage of by anybody. 

In my mind, having a car would mean I had a shelter of my own. If something happened, I could just leave and camp out in my car. For a while, I even thought of an arrangement where I could just sleep in her driveway or come inside only when there is a snowstorm. The survival mode was real.

---

When I visited my old friend, I was surprised at how beautiful the space was. Yes, it had all the remnants of a commercial space, including an industrial kitchen--but it was bright, naturesque, and sunny with lots of wooden touches and sky-high ceilings. It is an ideal space for pole dancing. The thought of returning to my pole dance practice warmed my heart. 

My old friend—Aura—is an Artist and dancer like me, and really wants to use her living space to build community. She understood what it was like to struggle in relationship with family, and empathized with my situation. 

We agreed on a very affordable rate for me to sleep in a living area upstairs (not a proper bedroom but still a large, beautiful space that is perfect for dancing) in conjunction with some work-exchange hours to help her with household projects, and maybe some creative trades, too.

I would be based there for 8 months, until she moves out—and then we would figure out our next steps. This sounded good for both of us. 

I suggested a one-week trial for me to spend proper time there, so that we could test the waters and see what it is like to live together in real-time. We walked away happy about the possibilities, awaiting to reconnect in a couple of weeks for my trial stay. 

But despite this opportunity opening up for me, I still continued to look for my Toyota Prius to live out of. I wanted a backup plan.

It was hard to find this type of car for less than $5k in my area—most of the ones that fit my budget were in small towns in the middle of nowhere—places that required a car to get to. My search became all-consuming and exhausting. 

By this time, a little voice was telling me to let it go—and I did, for a couple of days. 

But suddenly, a stubborn fire rose up within me. I just had to try to get a car. 

So I woke up at 6am one morning, and biked to the Bus stop to travel to a dealership in a little town I had never heard of. I wanted to check out two Priuses on their lot. 

I had meticulously planned my day, packed lunch, and made appointments with the dealership, as well as a trusted nearby mechanic to get a pre-purchase inspection to ensure I would not make the mistake of buying a Lemon. 

Between my bike ride, Intercity Bus, breakfast stop, and Lyft—it took me 4 hours to get to the dealership, where I was instantly welcomed by two Turkish salesmen who told me that nothing at all was wrong with their cars. 

The first Prius was trash. However, the second Prius I looked at was nearly 20 years old, but it was beautiful. As soon as I got in, it reminded me of Daddy’s old Mercedes, with its golden leatherette seats, tan exterior, CD player, pleasant scent, and sunshine streaming in from all directions. I was interested. 

But when I drove it to the local mechanic, they waved me over to stand underneath the car alongside them. With the help of a young man who graciously translated their Brazilian Portuguese, they all showed me how rusted the entire undercarriage was. It was basically a Lemon, and wouldn’t be worth my money. 

I gladly paid them the $100, thanked them with prayer hands for saving me thousands, and drove it back to the dealership, where the salesman still continued to convince me to buy the car. 

In that moment, I immediately decided that I would not buy any car. 

Like a light-switch, I reminded myself that I don’t actually want a car—I never wanted one. I only got my driver’s license so that I could take the wheel in case of an emergency, or borrow a car as-needed. 

I don’t like car culture. Every day as a biker, I see the damage they cause to small animals, and how arrogant and disconnected people become riding in their huge metallic vehicles. Whenever I do drive, I take it slow and try to stick to calm roads.

My dream is actually to live in an environment that is designed for people to use their bodies to get around via walking, biking, and public transportation—and I have always thrived while living in such places.

I am working towards moving to such a place once again, and I don’t intend to stay in this area.

I figured, it will not be a good investment to spend so much money on a depreciating asset that is designed for a lifestyle which I am actively digging myself out of. 

In the mean-time, I’d rather spend that money on travel and other enriching experiences and resources. 

Although most people don’t understand how I do it, I have learned how to bike year-round through the depths of winter, and meet my own needs using my bicycle and my physical fitness. 

Being a car-free biker has its limitations, yes, but it also has its freedoms. I like those freedoms.

The deal was sealed. 

Between travel, meals, and mechanic—it cost me $350 to “explore” buying a car within my budget, and I could not afford to keep doing that.

Ironically, I didn’t consider the hundreds I spent to be a waste—I took it as a valuable lesson and experience. Now I know.

---

I am now writing this after having spent a week with Aura in her home. 

We had a really good week. We do have our differences and she did admit being attracted to me *ahem*, but overall we were harmonious in each other’s company.

I’ve set some boundaries, and bonded with her cats. I think we can work well together as housemates and support each other during this phase of our respective journeys.

However, towards the end of the week I still had some resistance to staying there-some things that almost made me want to throw in the towel. 

The neighboring town she lives in is not my favorite place, and I like my town better. Although I lament the lack of diversity in my town, and it is too small for me—it still has a lot to offer-more than hers. I missed the beauty, accessibility, and cosmopolitan energy of my area—not to mention, the food is superior and yes I am a snob. 

Aside from that, I also wept about missing my Mother’s kittens.

But it wasn’t the blandness of her area-or my kittens-that broke the camel’s back…

It was the road culture. 

I felt unsafe while sharing the road with cars in her area—in a way that I don’t usually feel at home. The demographic was different—lots of young, entitled white boys who don’t know the state law or rules of the road, cutting me off and yelling at me when I clearly have the right of way. People in my area are usually more courteous and civil.

In general, traffic was also a lot busier and the roads were too narrow. I knew that biking in that area was a recipe for disaster. It was only a matter of time before I’d be killed or maimed. 

Since biking has been a huge source of autonomy and freedom in this area for the past few years—basically it has been my “car”—the idea of not being able to use it as freely or as often as I’m used to made me reconsider living there. Freedom and autonomy is extremely important to me. 

But the thought of returning to my Mother’s house saddened me. The pain in my heart was palpable. I reached deep inside and gentle-parented myself towards the light. 

How can we make this work, Nevline? Can we explore different biking routes? Public transportation? 

The night I came home stubbornly frustrated, was the same night I stubbornly stayed up late, studying various maps. I had to reach beyond what Google was serving me, and look at maps created by various organizations and city councils, to understand which routes had biking infrastructure, off-road trails, and legally rideable sidewalks. 

I also looked at the local bus schedule and discovered that there is actually a free bus that rides every 15 minutes (shockingly frequent for this area) to the business districts, which are not far away to begin with. I appreciated the option to take a bus directly from home, or walk to a nearby corner store for snacks, as that is not an option at my family home. I strategized until I was satisfied I could make it work. Aura’s place does offer accessibility-just not in a way that I am used to.

My stubborn lapses have demonstrated that this is indeed, a major change in my life. In fact, I have a feeling that this change will provide the foundation for me to catapult myself into where I truly want and need to be.

An emotionally stable place to live while I work on my dreams and goals--will allow me to pour positive energy and focus into my work, instead of melting down every few weeks in a new crisis, running helter-skelter in survival mode, and recovering from all the damage. I can also see how Aura’s home may help me foster more creative energy. 

But even for someone like me who has had to adapt to so many different circumstances—change can be scary, especially when it is major, and when the resulting challenges I face are unprecedented. 

I can also feel some major life changes happening as a result of expanding my Blog. For the first time in my life—the thought of success actually scares me. I never thought of myself as someone who is afraid of success. But the reality is that the closer you are to success, the more you see that it is not all rainbows and flowers, even if it is totally worth pursuing. However, I am not allowing fear to break my stride. 

Fear is always what moves us into self-sabotage, which I tinkered with when I thought about throwing in the towel and continuing to live with my Mom for the sake of familiarity.

Of course, if I were offered a way to move out of my family home through a path that I was familiar with, then I would do it right away. But that is not what god gave me. 

Sometimes what you need in life will be found through walking an unexpected pathway, and you have to take that high road, anyway. 

Moving out of my comfort zone is necessary for growth, and it’s what has made me the person I am today. I will always choose the path of growth, even if it’s difficult or scary. 

So here I am, moving forward into new era of my life. I am back at my family home for some weeks, where I will organize my belongings and store them while I am away, until I am ready to move into a permanent home.

In the meantime, I will be renting my friend’s space and traveling—while slowly undressing the thick armor I’ve worn for so long, in order to open up space to heal.  

Ideally, this move will lead me to the next, and I will leave and never look back.

My intention is to spend the next several months re-building my income through my Art (Substack and Film) to a level where it can support me in affording more options for where I can live. I have a very detailed plan as to how I will go about that, and I have recently been awarded some Artist grants to support me in those endeavors. 

Eventually I would like for this Blog to be able to generate enough income to support me completely, and to be able to create an aligned community who would like to engage with my other creative works and future offerings. 

If you love my work and would like to support me as a Woman and Artist, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. If you’re not able to afford to be a paid subscriber, please share the works I create that resonate with you.

All forms of support are very much appreciated, including kind words, likes, and shares--they boost my morale, warm my heart, and help me expand my network to reach those who are able to tangibly support me through a paid subscription. 

This article is paywalled, only because I have included an audio version of this article for paid subscribers and that is what Substack requires me to do. Otherwise, this is the end of this piece, as I wanted to share the full version with everyone. 

I have been living this story so hard, keeping my head down, and it is only now that I’ve reached a turning point that I feel called to share. It feels good to finally release, put it into words, and bring some perspective to my situation.

I hope that you’ve enjoyed reading my story and that it can help some of you who have experienced similar things. 

Sending lots of Love & Gratitude. 🌺