My Scam Story #32

A Romance Scam Victim/Survivor’s Story

Survivor’s Origin: USA

This is the original victim’s story, enhanced by the SCARS Institute Editorial Team to improve comprehension, readability, and continuity.

ADVERTENCIA: LA HISTORIA DE ESTA VÍCTIMA/SOBREVIVIENTE DE ESTAFA PUEDE SER INSENSIBLE PARA ALGUNAS PERSONAS. SE RECOMIENDA DISCRECIÓN.

Si necesita ayuda, únase a nuestro Programa gratuito de Apoyo y Recuperación del Instituto SCARS en support.AgainstScams.org

My Scam Story

Let me start by saying this: I believe it’s important to express your emotions and talk about how you’re feeling. Sometimes, I don’t really need advice, and it’s not necessary for anyone to respond. I just need to let it out—and that’s okay.

Back at the end of May, I quietly acknowledged the one-year mark since being free from my scammer. That milestone came and went without much fanfare, but it mattered to me. For the past six months, things have been quiet—no fake profiles pretending to be me, no private messages from strangers claiming to have “met me” on a dating site (not me, just another imposter). And for the most part, I’ve been doing really well. I’m happy to help others as a volunteer. Being involved with SCARS and helping expose real scammers has taught me a lot. Between that experience and my own painful journey, I’ve built a solid knowledge base—one that covers both sides: the victim’s and the scammer’s.

SCARS has a chart that shows two major emotional hurdles for scam victims: the one-year mark, and the 18-month mark. I think I hit that 18-month wave just a little early.

The other day, I was driving home from the store when a song came on the radio. At first, I smiled—it reminded me of a good memory with my husband at the time. But then, out of nowhere, the tears started flowing. The music had stirred something deeper. I realized I was grieving the fact that I was missing my grandson’s second birthday—a little boy I’ve only held twice since he was born.

That moment opened the floodgates.

Suddenly, the last three years of my life played in my mind like a movie. I had been married. I had a good job, a beautiful house with a big backyard, and a home full of life—kids, grandkids, friends, animals. I used to wake up to laughter, visits, and plans.

Now, I rent a master bedroom in a stranger’s house. No yard work, no housework, no family stopping by, no friends visiting. I work nights, and that job is taking a serious toll on my body. On my nights off, I mostly rest. I’ve had a project on hold, and I recently decided to take a much-needed break from another. So lately, there’s been a lot of quiet. A lot of time alone with my thoughts.

I do have stepchildren and grandchildren in the state where I live now, but I don’t see them often. The rest of the family is back in the state I left behind. They mostly call when they need something—money, help with bills, or expensive gifts for grandkids—because they know grandma won’t say no. (Well… within reason.)

I’ve also stepped back from Facebook. I don’t really post or chat with friends much anymore. Part of me is still worried someone might ask, “What happened with that man you were engaged to?” And I don’t want to answer. Not because I haven’t moved on, but because I don’t want to relive it on demand.

But don’t get me wrong—on most days, I’m actually content. I have freedom. I can do what I want, when I want, without having to ask permission or explain myself. I’ve accepted the choices I made, and I’ve forgiven those who hurt me.

Most importantly, I’ve made a promise to myself: I will never let something like that happen again.

I have a vision for the future. I’m hoping to find a better job soon. My goal is to use the rest of my savings for a down payment on my own place by next summer. I’m not just surviving anymore—I’m planning.

I decided to share all of this today because I needed to let it out. Writing it down helped. And if you’re reading this, I want you to know—it’s okay if you need to let it out too. It’s okay to not be okay. I already feel better, even though I know this emotional “hump” may linger a little longer.

So tonight, I’m giving myself permission to lean into the sadness. I’m going to watch some sad chick flicks and maybe polish off a gallon of ice cream. Because sometimes, that’s just what healing looks like.

Ladies, we are strong. We’ve been through one of the worst things that can happen to anyone. Many of us have lost not just money, but the life we thought we were building—the future we imagined.

But we’re still here. We survived.

I’m sending love to each of you who understands what this feels like.

Thank you for listening.

SCARS Institute Notes:

-/ 30 /-

Thank You to this Scam Survivor for Their Story!
Please Share YOUR Story Here!
We Will Anonymize Your Story to Help Shield Your Identity!