Shot, Surviving, and Shining: Taylor’s Story of Rising From the Ashes

What makes you a Beautiful Disaster?
I’ve been through hell and back, but yet I’m shining brighter than ever.

Why do you identify with the Beautiful Disaster brand?
Because I have turned my horrific story into something beautiful and inspiring—exactly what Beautiful Disaster does with their clothing.

My Beautiful Disaster Story

I was in an eight-year-long domestic violence relationship from the age of 15 to 23. The abuse started immediately. At 15, I didn’t know any better and thought it was “normal” to be physically abused. Of course, being so young, my parents couldn’t tell me anything, and I believed I was in love.

I remember one of the first times he abused me. We were at his friend’s house with his best friend and his friend’s girlfriend. I said I wanted to go home, and he slapped me across the face—right there in front of them. I couldn’t believe it. I thought surely someone would speak up. But no one said a word. The only thing said out loud was me apologizing.

Years went by, and I moved in with him, his father, and his sister. I thought things would get better but quickly realized he was worse around his family. He yelled at his dad, screamed at his sister, and even attacked her. How could this be my life? My family didn’t know about any of this abuse—only the girl who saw me get slapped that first time knew, and she eventually became my best friend.

At one point, I broke up with him and moved back home. For the first time, at 21, I felt free to live like a young woman. But one morning I woke up, and he was sitting in my room. I screamed, confused how he got in. He had gone to my mom, crying that he was lost without me. Everyone made me feel guilty for leaving him. He swore he had changed, promised he’d never touch me again. He made all these promises, and I believed him.

We got a house together—biggest mistake of my life. Alone with him, there was no one around to intervene. He strangled me, pointed a gun at my head, and did whatever he wanted. He seemed to get a rise out of us fighting. We had three dogs, and he would hurt them just to make me yell, then start fighting with me. Every time it happened, I thought, “Maybe this will be the last time. Maybe he’ll finally kill me.”

Fast forward to when I was 23: we got married. He gave me two weeks to plan the wedding. I knew there was no way out, so I didn’t care anymore. I wasn’t happy. I remember my dad walking me down the aisle, and I told him I didn’t want to do this. He just laughed, thinking I had cold feet. No one in my family knew the truth.

A few months after the wedding, he left a carton of eggs on the floor. One of our dogs got into it, and he whipped her with a belt. That was my breaking point. Something inside me snapped. I left and moved into a friend’s house. He didn’t know where she lived—or so I thought. But he began showing up at my work, leaving gifts and notes on my car. I told him to leave me alone, but to him, it was a game.

May 17, 2015 – The Day Everything Changed

It was around 5–6 AM when I woke up to find him standing at the edge of my bed. There were two beds in the room—my friend was in the other one. She woke up from me screaming. My ex had a gun pointed at us. I grabbed a box fan and held it in front of me, my right hand covering my friend’s face.

He said to my friend: “You better call your mom because it’s the last time she’ll hear your voice.” We begged him to put the gun down. He had locked the door. My friend’s mom was on the other side, trying to get in, screaming. He looked at me and said: “If I can’t have you, no one will.”

I remember falling to the floor and hearing two more gunshots. I heard what I thought was someone snoring but later learned it was someone choking on their blood.

The Aftermath

I’m not sure how long I was in a coma. When I woke up in the hospital with a breathing tube down my throat, I couldn’t speak. All I wanted to know was whether my friend survived. A week later, when the tube came out, they told me she didn’t make it.

I later found out he had broken into my friend’s home. To this day, I don’t know how he knew where I was.

I had to relearn how to walk, talk, eat, and drink. The bullet went through my right index finger, making me ambidextrous. It then hit something behind me and lodged into my neck between my C1 and C2 vertebrae. Doctors said removing it would cause more damage. I went through months of inpatient therapy, then outpatient therapy. I was diagnosed with PTSD and started seeing a therapist.

Where I Am Now

Ten years later, I am married to the love of my life.

At first, I was shy about my story. But then friends started messaging me, saying my courage helped them leave bad relationships. That’s when I realized: if what I went through could help someone else, I would scream my story from the mountaintops.

What happened for you to turn it around?
At first, I was shy about my story. Then I saw that my courage helped others get out of bad relationships. I was blessed to survive. If my story can help someone else, I will scream it from the mountaintops.

Name 3 things you’ve done to move closer to happiness:

1. I share my story as much as possible.

2. I acknowledge my scars and my disability as something beautiful, not shameful.

3. Even after everything I went through, I didn’t give up hope and found my best friend—my husband.

What is your favorite Beautiful Disaster collection, past or present, and why?
The Phoenix Collection is my favorite. I have overcome my trauma, and I am stronger than before. I rebuilt my life after years of abuse.

From Taylor: I share my story , I’m vulnerable because I want everyone to know it can happen.  I would rather go through everything I did so someone else does not have to