Coercive control is a haunting reality for many, intricately tied to the insidious patterns of intimate partner violence. It’s a form of abuse that often goes beyond emotional manipulation, bleeding into physical, sexual, and psychological realms that can leave lasting scars. For those who have lived it, the experience is a devastating journey through a dark maze, where love morphs into a weapon and the very essence of who you are is systematically dismantled. Intimate partner violence is not just about physical blows; it encompasses a broad spectrum of abusive behaviors, including sexual assault. Many people assume that violence in relationships is limited to physical confrontations, but it extends far deeper. Sexual coercion and assault can become tools of control, reinforcing the abuser’s power and eroding the victim’s sense of agency. The trauma of these violations can be profound, leading victims to question their worth, their reality, and ultimately their desire to live. For me, the reality of coercive control became painfully evident during a relationship that lasted less than a year. I was drawn in, captivated by the initial charm and attention, only to find myself engulfed in a nightmare of manipulation and emotional abuse. It’s hard to describe how quickly everything I knew about myself became clouded by doubt and fear. The moments of affection were often followed by intense control and belittlement, leaving me feeling like a mere shell of my former self. I could feel my identity being stripped away, layer by layer, until I was left with nothing but confusion and despair. Gaslighting became a constant in my life, where my perceptions and feelings were invalidated, twisting my reality until I no longer trusted my own thoughts. I remember moments when I would confront my partner about their behavior, only to be met with hostility and blame. “You’re overreacting,” or “You’re just being dramatic,” would echo in my mind, eroding my confidence and reinforcing the belief that I was the problem. This psychological manipulation is designed to isolate victims further, making them feel alone and unworthy of love or support. Isolation is a powerful tool in the hands of an abuser. My world began to shrink as friends and family were pushed away, often through smear campaigns that painted me as unstable or untrustworthy. It’s remarkable how quickly someone can turn your support system against you, spreading lies that leave you feeling vulnerable and exposed. The loneliness was suffocating; it felt as though I was cut off from the world, trapped in a nightmare with no escape. I lost my home, my belongings, and my sense of self. I was left homeless and vulnerable, a situation that left me feeling utterly powerless. The psychological toll of this kind of abuse is devastating. As the manipulation and isolation intensified, so did my despair. I found myself at a breaking point, grappling with feelings of hopelessness that ultimately led to nine suicide attempts. Each time I survived, the weight of my trauma bore down heavier, making it increasingly difficult to envision a future free from pain. The thought of ending my life felt like the only way to escape the torment, the only way to silence the incessant voice that told me I wasn’t enough, that I didn’t deserve to be loved. In those moments of crisis, I longed for understanding and connection. I wanted someone to see past the facade of normalcy and recognize the chaos beneath. I wanted my voice to be heard, my experiences validated, yet I felt trapped in a cycle of shame and silence. It’s essential for others to understand that the push toward suicide is not a reflection of weakness but rather a desperate response to unbearable pain. The experience of coercive control often extends into a terrifying reality where the abuser seeks to silence their victim through extreme measures, including false accusations and legal battles. My journey was marked by such horrors, where I faced a criminal trial that was built on lies, designed not only to defame me but to obliterate my existence. The pain of false charges weighed heavily on me, turning my life into a courtroom drama filled with anxiety and fear, all while I was still grappling with the emotional scars of the abuse. It’s an insidious tactic used by abusers to maintain control. In my case, not only was I fighting against the psychological manipulation of coercive control, but I was also thrown into a legal battle that felt rigged from the start. The abuser, Frankie Zerella, sought to erase my voice by fabricating stories that painted me as a villain rather than the victim I was. The criminal trial became a brutal game of character assassination, where I was left feeling exposed and vulnerable, a pawn in a vicious attempt to silence me once and for all. Amidst all of this chaos, the loss of my belongings felt like a physical representation of the emotional devastation I was experiencing. My property, everything I had worked for and held dear, was stolen and tossed aside as if it were nothing more than refuse. Each item discarded represented a piece of my identity, my history, and my sense of self, stripped away by someone who thrived on control and domination. Perhaps the most painful moment was when my dog’s ashes were callously discarded, a final act of cruelty that signified a profound loss. My dog was more than just a pet; he was a companion who brought me joy and comfort through some of my darkest moments. The ruthless disposal of his ashes felt like a violation that cut deeply, reinforcing the reality that I was up against someone who would stop at nothing to exert power over me. Through this turmoil, I learned to fight back and reclaim my narrative. My journey toward healing began when I took my pain and turned it into purpose. I wrote two bestselling books, Voiceless: A Silent Epidemic of Suicide Due to Narcissistic Abuse and My Heartbreak Diary: My Journey Healing from Narcissistic Abuse. In these works, I detailed not only my struggles but also the insights I gained along the way. Through writing, I articulated the complexities of coercive control, intimate partner violence, and the journey toward healing. I found solace in my words, a way to reclaim my narrative and share it with others who might be experiencing similar struggles. Creating a documentary centered on the narcissistic true crime of Wilton Manors was another avenue through which I could reclaim my voice. This project allowed me to shed light on the realities of coercive control and intimate partner violence, highlighting the stories of others who have suffered in silence. It was an opportunity to bring awareness to these often-hidden experiences, showing that the effects of such abuse are far-reaching and devastating. In sharing these stories, I hoped to foster understanding and empathy, encouraging conversations that might empower others to break free from their silence. Healing loudly became my mantra a call to action not just for myself but for others. It’s a way of saying that our stories matter, that our pain deserves to be heard, and that reclaiming our voices is a powerful act of resistance. It’s about standing up against the forces that seek to silence us and finding strength in vulnerability. Each time I shared my story, I felt the fog of shame lifting, replaced by a sense of empowerment. I began to understand that healing doesn’t have to be a solitary journey; it can be a collective experience where we support one another and share our truths. As I share my story, I hope to illuminate the complexities of coercive control and the profound impact it can have on one’s life. It’s a journey that many endure in silence, and I want to emphasize that you are not alone. If you’re feeling trapped or overwhelmed, remember that there is hope. Healing is possible, but it requires the courage to confront your reality and seek the support you deserve. In raising awareness about coercive control and the intertwined nature of intimate partner violence, I want to foster understanding and compassion for those who have been affected. By sharing our stories, we can break the silence and create a community of support, reminding one another that we are worthy of love, respect, and a future free from the shadows of abuse. Together, we can reclaim our narratives and advocate for a world where no one has to endure the pain of coercive control in silence. In this ongoing battle, let’s foster a culture of support and understanding. Let’s remind one another that we are worthy of love, respect, and safety. Together, we can illuminate the path for others, guiding them out of the darkness and into the light of healing and empowerment. No one deserves to suffer in silence, and it’s time for all of us to speak up, reclaim our voices, and demand the lives we deserve.


Coercive control is a haunting reality for many, intricately tied to the insidious patterns of intimate partner violence. It’s a form of abuse that often goes beyond emotional manipulation, bleeding into physical, sexual, and psychological realms that can leave lasting scars. For those who have lived it, the experience is a devastating journey through a dark maze, where love morphs into a weapon and the very essence of who you are is systematically dismantled.


Intimate partner violence is not just about physical blows; it encompasses a broad spectrum of abusive behaviors, including sexual assault. Many people assume that violence in relationships is limited to physical confrontations, but it extends far deeper. Sexual coercion and assault can become tools of control, reinforcing the abuser’s power and eroding the victim’s sense of agency. The trauma of these violations can be profound, leading victims to question their worth, their reality, and ultimately their desire to live.


For me, the reality of coercive control became painfully evident during a relationship that lasted less than a year. I was drawn in, captivated by the initial charm and attention, only to find myself engulfed in a nightmare of manipulation and emotional abuse. It’s hard to describe how quickly everything I knew about myself became clouded by doubt and fear. The moments of affection were often followed by intense control and belittlement, leaving me feeling like a mere shell of my former self. I could feel my identity being stripped away, layer by layer, until I was left with nothing but confusion and despair.


Gaslighting became a constant in my life, where my perceptions and feelings were invalidated, twisting my reality until I no longer trusted my own thoughts. I remember moments when I would confront my partner about their behavior, only to be met with hostility and blame. “You’re overreacting,” or “You’re just being dramatic,” would echo in my mind, eroding my confidence and reinforcing the belief that I was the problem. This psychological manipulation is designed to isolate victims further, making them feel alone and unworthy of love or support.


Isolation is a powerful tool in the hands of an abuser. My world began to shrink as friends and family were pushed away, often through smear campaigns that painted me as unstable or untrustworthy. It’s remarkable how quickly someone can turn your support system against you, spreading lies that leave you feeling vulnerable and exposed. The loneliness was suffocating; it felt as though I was cut off from the world, trapped in a nightmare with no escape. I lost my home, my belongings, and my sense of self. I was left homeless and vulnerable, a situation that left me feeling utterly powerless.


The psychological toll of this kind of abuse is devastating. As the manipulation and isolation intensified, so did my despair. I found myself at a breaking point, grappling with feelings of hopelessness that ultimately led to nine suicide attempts. Each time I survived, the weight of my trauma bore down heavier, making it increasingly difficult to envision a future free from pain. The thought of ending my life felt like the only way to escape the torment, the only way to silence the incessant voice that told me I wasn’t enough, that I didn’t deserve to be loved.


In those moments of crisis, I longed for understanding and connection. I wanted someone to see past the facade of normalcy and recognize the chaos beneath. I wanted my voice to be heard, my experiences validated, yet I felt trapped in a cycle of shame and silence. It’s essential for others to understand that the push toward suicide is not a reflection of weakness but rather a desperate response to unbearable pain.


The experience of coercive control often extends into a terrifying reality where the abuser seeks to silence their victim through extreme measures, including false accusations and legal battles. My journey was marked by such horrors, where I faced a criminal trial that was built on lies, designed not only to defame me but to obliterate my existence. The pain of false charges weighed heavily on me, turning my life into a courtroom drama filled with anxiety and fear, all while I was still grappling with the emotional scars of the abuse.


It’s an insidious tactic used by abusers to maintain control. In my case, not only was I fighting against the psychological manipulation of coercive control, but I was also thrown into a legal battle that felt rigged from the start. The abuser, Frankie Zerella, sought to erase my voice by fabricating stories that painted me as a villain rather than the victim I was. The criminal trial became a brutal game of character assassination, where I was left feeling exposed and vulnerable, a pawn in a vicious attempt to silence me once and for all.


Amidst all of this chaos, the loss of my belongings felt like a physical representation of the emotional devastation I was experiencing. My property, everything I had worked for and held dear, was stolen and tossed aside as if it were nothing more than refuse. Each item discarded represented a piece of my identity, my history, and my sense of self, stripped away by someone who thrived on control and domination. Perhaps the most painful moment was when my dog’s ashes were callously discarded, a final act of cruelty that signified a profound loss. My dog was more than just a pet; he was a companion who brought me joy and comfort through some of my darkest moments. The ruthless disposal of his ashes felt like a violation that cut deeply, reinforcing the reality that I was up against someone who would stop at nothing to exert power over me.


Through this turmoil, I learned to fight back and reclaim my narrative. My journey toward healing began when I took my pain and turned it into purpose. I wrote two bestselling books, Voiceless: A Silent Epidemic of Suicide Due to Narcissistic Abuse and My Heartbreak Diary: My Journey Healing from Narcissistic Abuse. In these works, I detailed not only my struggles but also the insights I gained along the way. Through writing, I articulated the complexities of coercive control, intimate partner violence, and the journey toward healing. I found solace in my words, a way to reclaim my narrative and share it with others who might be experiencing similar struggles.


Creating a documentary centered on the narcissistic true crime of Wilton Manors was another avenue through which I could reclaim my voice. This project allowed me to shed light on the realities of coercive control and intimate partner violence, highlighting the stories of others who have suffered in silence. It was an opportunity to bring awareness to these often-hidden experiences, showing that the effects of such abuse are far-reaching and devastating. In sharing these stories, I hoped to foster understanding and empathy, encouraging conversations that might empower others to break free from their silence.


Healing loudly became my mantra a call to action not just for myself but for others. It’s a way of saying that our stories matter, that our pain deserves to be heard, and that reclaiming our voices is a powerful act of resistance. It’s about standing up against the forces that seek to silence us and finding strength in vulnerability. Each time I shared my story, I felt the fog of shame lifting, replaced by a sense of empowerment. I began to understand that healing doesn’t have to be a solitary journey; it can be a collective experience where we support one another and share our truths.


As I share my story, I hope to illuminate the complexities of coercive control and the profound impact it can have on one’s life. It’s a journey that many endure in silence, and I want to emphasize that you are not alone. If you’re feeling trapped or overwhelmed, remember that there is hope. Healing is possible, but it requires the courage to confront your reality and seek the support you deserve.


In raising awareness about coercive control and the intertwined nature of intimate partner violence, I want to foster understanding and compassion for those who have been affected. By sharing our stories, we can break the silence and create a community of support, reminding one another that we are worthy of love, respect, and a future free from the shadows of abuse. Together, we can reclaim our narratives and advocate for a world where no one has to endure the pain of coercive control in silence.


In this ongoing battle, let’s foster a culture of support and understanding. Let’s remind one another that we are worthy of love, respect, and safety. Together, we can illuminate the path for others, guiding them out of the darkness and into the light of healing and empowerment. No one deserves to suffer in silence, and it’s time for all of us to speak up, reclaim our voices, and demand the lives we deserve.

Sitting Down with Sean Cribbins: From Victim to Advocate in the Wake of a Serial Killer

 Sitting Down with Sean Cribbins: From Victim to Advocate in the Wake of a Serial Killer



When you’ve been hunted, when someone has sought to take everything from you, the act of surviving becomes a shadowy existence one where each breath feels like a defiance against the darkness that nearly consumed you. This week, I had the profound honor of sitting down with Sean Cribbins, a survivor of one of Canada’s most infamous serial killers, Bruce McArthur. Our conversations were a journey through pain, resilience, and the transformative power of shared stories.


In 2017, Sean was brutally targeted by McArthur, who preyed on vulnerable men in Toronto's LGBTQ+ community. Known for his charm and manipulative nature, McArthur lured victims to his home before ultimately murdering them. Sean’s harrowing escape from McArthur’s clutches is a testament to his will to live. Had it not been for McArthur’s roommate returning home unexpectedly, Sean would have been the next victim a fact that haunts him to this day.


McArthur’s gruesome legacy included the deaths of at least eight men, with their bodies found in planters at a property where he worked. The chilling details of McArthur’s crimes send shivers down the spine of anyone who hears them. His possession of photographs of all his victims, including Sean, underscores the true horror of his predation. Sean described the suffocating fear he felt during that encounter he remembered struggling to breathe as the reality of his situation sank in. The memories of that night remain shrouded in a fog of trauma, with pieces lost to memory, but the emotional scars are ever-present.


As Sean recounted his story, I felt an unbreakable bond form between us. Though our traumas were different his the physical violence of a serial killer, and mine the psychological torment inflicted by a malignant narcissist we shared an understanding of what it means to be targeted, groomed, and violated. Our discussions about the survivor’s guilt he endures were raw and poignant. Sean grapples with the reality that he survived while others did not, a burden that weighs heavily on his heart.


The aftermath of such trauma often brings a cascade of emotional turmoil. Sean and I spoke openly about the dark thoughts that accompany survival. There were moments when the pain felt insurmountable, leading to thoughts of self-harm and despair. It’s a brutal paradox: having lived through the unthinkable, yet still grappling with a desire to escape the memories that haunt us. In those quiet moments of vulnerability, we admitted to each other that the act of surviving is often fraught with the impulse to surrender.


Both of us have faced the demons of our past every day, navigating the scars that linger long after the physical threats have faded. The guilt and shame that often cling to survivors are burdens that society places upon us. People tell us how strong we are for enduring what we went through, but strength is not what we sought; we merely wanted to exist. Living with PTSD is not a badge of honor; it’s an ongoing struggle.


One of the most poignant moments in our discussions was when Sean spoke about the emotional turmoil he faced during McArthur’s trial. The act of confronting his abuser in court brought a flood of emotions fear, anger, and a complex mixture of healing and pain. It’s a moment that many survivors dread, and I could relate intimately, having faced my own abuser in court and feeling the suffocating weight of their presence.


Sean's courage to face McArthur is not just a testament to his resilience; it's a beacon for others who may one day have to confront their own tormentors. We both understand that survival extends beyond the moment of escape. It involves a daily reckoning with the past and a commitment to finding a way forward.


In sharing our truths, Sean and I found a connection that goes beyond friendship it’s a lifeline for others like us, a beacon for those still navigating their own stormy seas. We’ve seen firsthand how these stories have the power to heal, to bridge the chasm of isolation that trauma often creates.


Sean’s advocacy is nothing short of admirable. His documentary, which chronicles his journey and the experiences of other survivors, has reached millions and won multiple awards for its raw and honest portrayal of trauma and healing. Through his work, he offers hope and a voice to those who have suffered in silence, reminding us that we are not alone in our struggles.


Survival doesn’t end when you make it out alive. Both Sean and I learned that the hard way. What comes after the long days of recovery, the nightmares, the isolation requires immense strength. Advocacy for us isn’t a choice; it’s a necessity for survival. By sharing our stories, we’re not just giving voice to the trauma; we’re reclaiming control over it.


If you find yourself grappling with your own trauma, know that your journey is valid. Reach out, share your story, and take back your narrative. Together, we can create a tapestry of resilience that reminds us all: while the scars may remain, they do not define us. Together, we rise, stronger than the darkness that tried to hold us captive.


Meeting Sean Cribbins was not just an encounter with a fellow survivor; it was a reminder that every story matters and every voice deserves to be heard. In sharing our journeys, we shine a light on the shadows of trauma, offering hope and healing to those still searching for their way out. Survival isn’t strength; it’s resilience, a testament to our capacity to endure and to transform pain into purpose.


If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, abuse, or the effects of trauma, please reach out for help. Here are some resources:


National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255) 

A free, 24/7 service that can provide support, information, and resources for individuals in distress.


Crisis Text Line: Text “HELLO” to 741741 

A free, 24/7 text line for anyone in crisis, providing immediate support.


RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): 1-800-656-HOPE (1-800-656-4673) 

A national hotline for survivors of sexual assault, providing support and resources.


NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness): 1-800-950-NAMI (1-800-950-6264) 

A national organization providing information and support for mental health issues.


LGBTQIA+ Resources:


Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386 

A national organization providing crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to LGBTQ+ youth.


GLBT National Help Center: 1-888-843-4564  A national resource for LGBTQIA+ individuals seeking support, information, and resources.


Local Support Groups: Consider reaching out to local mental health organizations or community centers that offer support groups for survivors of trauma and abuse.


You are not alone, and help is always available.

Coming Nov 4th to Amazon. Beneath The Ashes: Haikus on Narcissistic Abuse and Healing by Daniel Ryan Cotler

 


Coming November 4th to Amazon: Beneath the Ashes: Haikus on Narcissistic Abuse and Healing by Daniel Ryan Cotler.


From best-selling author, poet, and renowned advocate for survivors of narcissistic abuse, Daniel Ryan Cotler brings a deeply personal and transformative collection of 215 haikus that explore the journey through narcissistic abuse and the profound process of healing. Cotler, a survivor of narcissistic abuse and a nine-time suicide attempt survivor, has dedicated his life to raising awareness about the devastating impact of narcissistic relationships and the possibility of reclaiming one’s life.


Through his acclaimed blog, podcast, and community, Cotler reaches millions of people globally, offering guidance, support, and validation to those grappling with the aftermath of abuse. His personal experiences infuse every haiku in Beneath the Ashes, creating a raw and honest exploration of pain, heartbreak, and resilience. Structured into eight chapters, the book takes readers through the cycles of abuse, the psychological toll it takes, and the journey toward empowerment and recovery.


Drawing from nature as a central theme, each haiku captures the cyclical nature of healing, using metaphors of the changing seasons to reflect the stages of growth, decay, renewal, and rebirth. Cotler’s mastery of the haiku form blends traditional poetic structure with emotional depth, making this collection a deeply moving experience for anyone who has faced the emotional scars of narcissistic abuse.


Beneath the Ashes is more than a collection of poems—it is a beacon of hope for survivors, a reminder that even from the deepest pain, there is the possibility of new life, strength, and healing. Cotler’s work serves as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, providing readers not only with validation but also with a roadmap for their own healing journeys.


Join Daniel Ryan Cotler on November 4th as he continues his mission to heal loudly and help others rediscover their strength beneath the ashes.







I no longer protect my reputation or keep the peace.

 


For years, I was conditioned to stay quiet. Trained to keep the peace, I held my tongue to avoid conflict and discomfort. I had learned to smooth over situations, even when they crushed my spirit. I absorbed the false narrative that maintaining a calm exterior, no matter how turbulent the storm inside, was my duty. I became an expert at protecting everyone else’s peace at the expense of my own.


But after enduring the most horrific narcissistic abuse and finally embarking on my healing journey, I made a decision: I would no longer protect my reputation, or anyone else's comfort. Instead, I would protect my peace at all costs. That protection, however, didn’t look like the quiet submission I had been taught. It often involved disrupting the peace, shaking the silence, and standing up to those who expected me to stay small.


During the years of narcissistic abuse, I was manipulated into believing that silence equaled peace. I was gaslighted into thinking that if I didn’t speak out, if I didn’t push back, things would remain “okay.” I was told that to disrupt was to destroy to point out wrongs was to be wrong. Narcissistic abuse doesn’t just condition you to tolerate mistreatment; it rewires your understanding of what peace even is. Peace, I was told, meant quiet submission. It meant agreeing when I didn’t agree, nodding when I felt crushed, smiling when my heart screamed.


For so long, I accepted that lie. I believed that going home with a war inside was preferable to speaking out and risking confrontation. I lived with constant cognitive dissonance, protecting the peace of those around me while silently destroying myself in the process.


When I finally started healing, I realized that real peace doesn’t come from silence. It doesn’t come from sacrificing my truth or putting on a mask to keep others comfortable. Real peace comes from within and to get there, I had to disrupt the false peace I had been maintaining for so long. I had to learn that it was okay to say, “This isn’t right,” even if it rocked the boat.


It wasn’t easy. Speaking up for myself felt foreign and dangerous at first. I had been so deeply conditioned to avoid confrontation, to prioritize the comfort of others over my own needs, that reclaiming my voice felt like an act of rebellion. And in a way, it was. But this rebellion was necessary it was my way of reclaiming my life from the grip of narcissistic abuse.


Now, I no longer fear disrupting the peace. I no longer stay quiet just to avoid uncomfortable situations. If something needs to be said, I say it no matter where I am, no matter who’s around. It’s not about being aggressive or starting unnecessary conflict. It’s about honoring my truth, setting boundaries, and refusing to go back to the person I was the person who thought keeping everyone else happy was more important than protecting myself.


There’s a profound power in reclaiming your voice. After years of being silenced, of being told your voice doesn’t matter, the act of speaking up becomes a form of liberation. It’s not just about the words; it’s about the energy behind them the refusal to be silenced any longer.


In the past, I thought I was avoiding war by staying quiet. I believed that speaking out would lead to chaos and that the best way to protect myself was to keep things smooth on the surface. But I didn’t realize that the real war was happening inside me. Each time I suppressed my feelings, each time I smiled through the pain or held my tongue, I was creating an internal battlefield. The longer I stayed quiet, the louder the war raged within.


When I finally chose to speak up, that war started to dissipate. It wasn’t easy. Confrontation, standing firm in my truth, and challenging those who had expected my silence all felt terrifying. But with each step, with each boundary I set, the internal conflict lessened. I started to experience true peace not the false peace of silence and compliance, but the real peace that comes from being fully aligned with myself.


Part of this journey has been letting go of the need to protect my reputation. Narcissistic abuse often leaves you trapped in a cycle of hyper-awareness about how you’re perceived. The narcissist makes you believe that your value lies in the image you project, and over time, you become consumed with maintaining that image. You become terrified of being seen as “difficult,” “dramatic,” or “too much.”


But now, I no longer care about protecting my reputation. My peace is what matters most, and sometimes protecting my peace means disrupting the image others have of me. It means accepting that some people won’t like me, that some people will label me as difficult or too outspoken. But that’s okay because I no longer live for them. I live for me.


The freedom that comes from this mindset shift is indescribable. I no longer feel the need to justify myself to others or to stay quiet just to keep the peace. If something needs to be said, I say it. If a boundary needs to be set, I set it. I no longer sacrifice my well-being for the sake of keeping things comfortable for others. My peace, my truth, and my voice are my priorities now.


This journey healing from narcissistic abuse and learning to protect my peace has been one of the most difficult yet rewarding experiences of my life. It has required me to challenge deeply ingrained beliefs, to disrupt long-standing patterns, and to reclaim my voice in ways I never thought possible.


Protecting my peace doesn’t mean avoiding conflict or keeping the waters calm. It means speaking up, setting boundaries, and refusing to stay silent when something is wrong. It means owning my truth, no matter who it offends, and no longer prioritizing other people’s comfort over my own well-being.


Most of all, it means understanding that true peace begins within and I will never go back to sacrificing that inner peace for the sake of maintaining someone else’s version of it.

New Book Release: "Beneath the Ashes: Haikus on Narcissistic Abuse and Healing" by Daniel Ryan Cotler

New Book Release: "Beneath the Ashes: Haikus on Narcissistic Abuse and Healing" by Daniel Ryan Cotler


Available Exclusively on Amazon November 4, 2024


St. Louis, Mo — Daniel Ryan Cotler, best selling author, poet, and advocate for survivors of narcissistic abuse, is set to release his latest book, Beneath the Ashes: Haikus on Narcissistic Abuse and Healing, on November 4, 2024. This transformative collection of haikus delves into the profound emotional turmoil experienced by victims of narcissistic abuse while offering hope and pathways to healing.


Drawing on his personal experiences and extensive knowledge of narcissistic abuse, Cotler presents a powerful narrative through the lens of nature and the seasons. Each chapter explores various aspects of narcissistic abuse, including the cycle of manipulation, the impact of trauma bonding, and the struggles of recovery. Cotler’s poignant haikus serve as both a reflection of pain and a beacon of hope for those navigating their healing journeys.


The book is divided into eight chapters, each containing thirty traditional haikus that capture the essence of each phase of the abusive cycle. The nature-oriented theme is woven throughout the text, using metaphors of seasons to highlight growth, resilience, and the beauty of recovery.


In addition to the haikus, Beneath the Ashes features educational introductions and interactive reflections that invite readers to engage with the material on a deeper level. Cotler's commitment to empowering survivors is further emphasized through insightful discussions on complex PTSD (CPTSD), trauma bonding, and the silent epidemic of suicide associated with narcissistic abuse.


“I wrote this book to shed light on the often-unseen struggles faced by survivors and to offer a voice to those who feel silenced,” says Cotler. “My hope is that readers will find solace and strength in these pages and recognize that healing is possible.”


Beneath the Ashes: Haikus on Narcissistic Abuse and Healing will be available exclusively on Amazon starting November 4, 2024. 


For media inquiries, interviews, please contact Daniel Ryan Cotler at Danryanpoetry@gmail.com 


About Daniel Ryan Cotler

Daniel Ryan Cotler is a best-selling author, poet, and advocate for survivors of narcissistic abuse. He is the author of two critically acclaimed books: Voiceless: A Silent Epidemic of Suicide Due to Narcissistic Abuse and My Heartbreak Diary: My Journey Healing from Narcissistic Abuse. Cotler is the founder of the Narcissistic Abuse Recovery Community Blog and Podcast, which has reached millions of individuals worldwide and is ranked number 8 in the world by Feedspot. He is also the visionary behind the Heal Loudly Movement and the creator of the documentary Narcissistic True Crimes of Wilton Manors. Cotler strives to empower survivors to reclaim their voices and embrace their healing journeys, providing profound insights and practical guidance for those navigating the complexities of abuse and recovery.