Welcome to the
SCARS Institute’s
Scam Survivor Stories

I realize I’m in the midst of an identity crisis. My identity is heavily linked to my work. Being an accountant means you are viewed at the minimum as an expert in your field. You handle technology everyday, you have training in recognizing scam emails and more. Each day is about accuracy, accuracy in your work, in research, and representation that the financials are complete and correct. I put a lot of myself into my position from filing, being able to locate documents, to verifying payroll and making sure sick time and vacation per employee were correct, to tracing and correcting an unbalanced account or complex transaction. Now, although retired from that position; I am responsible for the household finances and records and the finances of my father. By the grace of God I did not use any of the household budget or savings and did not use any funds of my father’s. While this is a positive thing, I still have trouble seeing that all was not lost to the crime. My word is my bond, my honesty no matter what, is my creed. Those have been broken; I have trouble finding the shattered pieces. Although I acknowledge it was not my fault, if security tapes are viewed it is my face, my signature on the wire transfers, my name of the credit cards. Yet, because I CAN say it is not my fault, I can rise above what happened, the betrayal, the hurt, the illusion of love. I can hold my head up and rebuild my life and not let this episode in my life define who I will be going forward.

The realization that I was a victim of a crime shattered my world. The sense of betrayal was enormous, as stated here, by the criminals and myself. I was left completely shattered and truly didn’t know who I was or what I had become … or how I could survive this. The first sense of relief I felt was the day I reported the crime to my local state police department. A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders and I could fully admit to myself and a select few family members that I was scammed. That relief was short-lived. The shame, guilt and terror I felt (the terror of how I would start over financially, mostly) was all-consuming. I had night terrors, couldn’t eat or I’d get nauseous, couldn’t sleep for more than a couple hours at a time and was riddled with anxiety. The void I felt was unlike any before … all my waking hours, and a lot of nighttime hours, were spent in contact with the criminals for about 10 months. I proverbially put myself in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. I isolated myself and withdrew. I didn’t know how to function. And then I began to have thoughts about taking my life, every day, for about 3 months. My daughter and my dad kept me here. Thankfully. Then as time went on I began to heal and went looking for answers. Then I discovered SCARS and began this journey of recovery. It has saved my life and given me purpose again.

I am grateful to SCARS for providing supportive information and guidance in a very overwhelming situation. The education I have received has helped me to understand what I experienced, helped guide me away from becoming a permanent victim, and aided me to the pathway of recovery. I am learning to not let the crime identify me, but rather that it happened TO me. I live in an area that fosters the idea that a rape victim asked for it, an assault victim never learned how to fight and the new one: a victim of a scam is a willing participant and needs to live with their shame. Such very old-fashioned ideas. But enough that I do not share what happened to me. Instead, the level of crime here is very high, especially substance abuse that leads to spousal abuse. Trying to help someone is considered not minding my business. Yes, very backward, but a part of everyday life.

My gosh! I should have done a reverse photo lookup before deepening the conversation with a scammer. A man claiming to be “John Deets” contacted me on TikTok. I’ve saved text conversations and WhatsApp conversations. The scammer claimed to be Dr. John Deets, a Greek neurosurgeon from Detroit, Michigan. He had 2 children by a Spanish woman who was his ex-wife. I questioned why he was still wearing a wedding ring in his photos and was told he does that so women think he’s still married. We texted each other. He gave me a (719) 225-4140 phone number. I questioned why he had a Colorado area code, and he said that he lived there before Detroit. Later, I found out that these scammers can purchase American phone numbers for $3 to $5. On several occasions, we talked about meeting in person. We discussed meeting halfway between Detroit and where I live, we discussed meeting in my hometown, and we discussed him flying to my location and meeting in person. We discussed taking a vacation together in July. We were chatting back and forth around Easter, and he said it was his birthday on April 18th. Suddenly, the scammer claimed his Dad was in the hospital and he had to fly to Greece to be with him and his mother. I even got a screenshot of alleged flight information. Then, the red flags started popping up. I got messages that he needed money so he could withdraw Bitcoin money because he was losing money due to the market declines. He needed the money to pay the fees associated with withdrawing the money, and needed the money to fly back from Greece and meet me in my state. Luckily, my father was in the financial industry, and my intuition told me something was fishy. I first got asked for $1,000, and I said no. Then, I got asked for $500, and finally got asked for $100. The scammer is using videos and photos of this poor Brazilian doctor. I am heartbroken but grateful for the security features on money transfer apps. I knew something was strange when I got 3 different profile names and a different email on money transfer apps. Thank God I was only out $50 that I spent on a Razr card “for him and his son” to play video games together on his birthday.” The scammer finally came clean and told me he’s a 25-year-old African man who’s in trouble with the police and needed the money.

I experienced isolation in both ways: first as a request and manipulation tactic by the scammers – they didn’t want me to tell anyone what was going on and to keep it a secret. They also wanted me to be in constant contact with them, to check in, under the guise of being concerned for me. If I was on the road they wanted me to check in periodically and to be sure and let them know when I arrived at my destination. And secondly, I self-isolated because I didn’t want to discuss what I was going through. I didn’t think anyone would understand and I didn’t want to subject myself to more shame and guilt, that I was afraid everyone else would judge me.

The level of depression and pain I felt caused by the betrayal also resulted in me contemplating taking my life. During this time, this became a vicious circle: I couldn’t engage with others so I kept to myself and because I spent so much time alone, with my dark thoughts, I wanted to end my life.

I finally healed enough to realize I wanted to heal more. A much better circle of being.

I remember that after the scam, I was so afraid of being scammed again. I felt very vulnerable. Then, when I learned through SCARS that my scam experience could be sold to other scammers and I could be targeted further times, I felt helpless. But I also learned how to better protect myself to not interact with scammers and avoid falling victim to a scam again.

I’m still an arriver. I’ve hit the 5 month mark and heading toward 6 months since my crime. In looking at the curve chart, I now understand why all of a sudden I find myself having to turn away from thoughts of the criminal hourly and daily. I had been doing pretty good in not thinking about that relationship. And I recognize myself for that statement. I see that I need to be patient, practice more self-care care and that I am approaching the crest of that hill of recovery. That is good! I still have a ways to go before I hit the top of that curve.

Go forward at your own pace.
Never compare yourself with others.
Don’t act under pressure.
Don’t do anything by force.
Don’t rush things.
Recognize the fact that everything has its time.
Appreciate what you have already accomplished.
Let every little progress motivate you to take the next step.

“It may be hard to believe when you are in the midst of despair, but healing does not stop at the moment of collapse. That moment is often what opens the door to something new.”

When it feels like you are struggling to simply survive and you can’t possibly see a way out of the pain you’re experiencing, the darkness fades away and the light begins to appear. Giving you hope, a bit of healing and the strength to move forward.

“It may be hard to believe when you are in the midst of despair, but healing does not stop at the moment of collapse. That moment is often what opens the door to something new.”

When it feels like you are struggling to simply survive and you can’t possibly see a way out of the pain you’re experiencing, the darkness fades away and the light begins to appear. Giving you hope, a bit of healing, and the strength to move forward.

I never thought I’d be the one to fall for a scam. The email looked so real, promising a refund for a service I’d canceled months ago. All I had to do was click the link and provide some details. In my haste, I didn’t see the red flags—the slightly off domain, the urgent tone. By the time I realized, my bank account was drained, and shame washed over me like a tidal wave. How could I have been so foolish? The nights that followed were sleepless, filled with self-blame and fear. I felt like I’d lost not just money, but my sense of security, my trust in myself.

The collapse was suffocating. I avoided telling anyone, convinced they’d judge me as harshly as I judged myself. But in that darkness, a small spark flickered. A friend noticed my silence and gently asked what was wrong. When I finally shared, the weight didn’t vanish, but it lightened. She didn’t judge; she listened. That moment of vulnerability became my first step toward healing.

I reported the scam, froze my accounts, and slowly rebuilt. Each action, no matter how small, was a reclaiming of control. The pain didn’t disappear overnight, but it began to shift. I found online forums where others shared similar stories, and their words reminded me I wasn’t alone. Strangers became a lifeline, offering advice and empathy. I started to forgive myself, understanding that the scam wasn’t a reflection of my worth but a predator’s cunning.

The light grew stronger with time. I learned to spot scams, to trust my instincts again. The despair that once felt endless became a chapter, not the whole story. Healing wasn’t linear—some days, anger or doubt crept back—but each step forward built resilience. What felt like an ending was, in truth, a beginning. The collapse cracked open a path to wisdom, connection, and a renewed sense of hope.

Trust is something essential to all of us, no matter if we are a stay at home mom or the executive of a large corporation. Knowing how to use trust in our daily experiences is essential.

But when one loses their trust, such as with a scam, one can feel adrift at sea in a rowboat without a paddle. I know that I do. I am slowly rebuilding trust. But at this stage, after my crime, I have noticed I am willing to withdraw trust even over minor incidents. Feeling safe and secure in one’s relationships or connections is key in rebuilding trust. Without trust, it is hard to move forward, it is hard to have confidence, and it is hard to make a decision. That is why a scam can completely unbalance our sense of being competent. And setting boundaries is definitely crucial. Imagine being elderly and not knowing how to properly set boundaries! That is happening to me.

My parents were so suspicious of everything that even wanting to keep a diary was against their code of ethics. A diary was considered a waste of money and foolishness. And it was considered that I was keeping secrets from them. Of course, in those days, I never considered just using notebook paper to create a diary. I thought the purpose of the diary was to have something I could lock my private thoughts in. But there again, my parents thought my thoughts were weird and unnatural. They were born of curiosity about the world and the people in it. My thoughts were ridiculed, and I felt shame for having them. I learned that my parents established the boundaries as I was growing up. I learned I was a child behind a fence of their fears and co-dependency. That child was not allowed to learn to establish anything that went beyond superficial traits and thoughts. As an adult, I went from my parents’ home into marriage with a narcissist. Boundaries could not co-exist in this relationship.

My cognitive impairment was severe immediately after my scam ended. However, I’ve now noticed that it was particularly bad during the scam itself. Learning was difficult throughout the scam and for about the first eight weeks after it concluded. I realized this, ironically, through scam training required by my job. During the scam, I couldn’t pass any of the quizzes or tests. Since these tests didn’t have many questions, I was failing them spectacularly.

About two months ago, I took a quiz and passed with 100 percent, then I took another and again scored 100 percent. The training method for these quizzes is visual, relying on watching short video tutorials before taking the quiz or test. However, my personal learning process combines reading, writing, and kinesthetic methods. When I learn software, I’m a button pusher, experimenting to see what happens, which differs from the video-based training approach.

Fortunately, I didn’t have any major decisions to make before or immediately after my scam ended. Eventually, I did have to make a financial decision regarding the debt in the aftermath of the scam. I think I managed it well enough.

Not long after my scam ended, I needed to go to the grocery store. It never crossed my mind that I’d need to travel past the bank branch where I sent all the wire transfers. The experience was very upsetting, and for a couple of months, I avoided taking that route to the grocery store. I felt I was making great progress in healing when I stopped at that branch, actually went inside (as I had many times during the scam), and did my banking. I’ll admit I was a bit jittery walking in, but once I completed the necessary transaction and was on my way out, I felt tremendous relief that it was over. I realized I was okay.

Certain music reminds me of the criminal. There were specific artists I listened to on repeat during the scam. Soon after it ended, I felt nauseous listening to them, so I stopped for a few months and then tried again. Now, these songs remind me of a different period in my life—my healing period. Some of the songs make me sad but no longer trigger the intense anxiety I felt when the scam first ended. This feels like progress.

I spend a lot of time each day walking my dog in our rural area. I listen to binaural beats when I go to bed to help alleviate anxiety, and I do breathing exercises to assist during the day. There were certain times of the day or night when the criminal and I chatted, and these techniques help me get through those moments.

After the scam, my emotional state collapsed into a level of misery I had never experienced before. It felt as though my world had been hollowed out from the inside. The betrayal I had suffered was not just financial; it had torn apart my sense of trust, my confidence in my own judgment, and even my belief in my ability to survive adversity. I was left standing alone, more isolated than at any other point in my life.

The isolation grew even heavier because of the lack of understanding from the people I had once believed would stand by me no matter what. Instead of finding comfort, I found blame. Instead of being offered a listening ear, I was met with harsh judgment. Those closest to me—family, friends, colleagues—looked at me differently. Some implied, directly or indirectly, that the scam was somehow my fault. Others simply withdrew, unsure of what to say or how to support me.

Their reactions made me deeply afraid of reaching out to anyone else. If the people who knew and loved me could not understand what had happened, how could strangers or acquaintances? I feared that everyone would judge me, that they would blame me, that they would see me as gullible or foolish. This fear locked me into a deeper loneliness, one that seemed impossible to escape.

On top of the emotional devastation was the brutal reality of financial collapse. I had been left broke by the scam. Every time I had to ask for temporary financial help, I felt a humiliation that cut deep into my dignity. It was not just the act of asking for help that hurt—it was the fear that I would not be able to meet my obligations. The debts weighed on me like an anchor around my neck, and every day brought with it a paralyzing fear that I would drown under the burden. I felt trapped between shame, helplessness, and the gnawing anxiety of financial ruin.

There were moments when the fear and the isolation felt so overwhelming that I could not imagine a way forward. I questioned whether I would ever recover—not just financially, but emotionally and mentally. I questioned whether my life could ever feel safe, stable, or meaningful again.

The turning point for me came when I found the SCARS support group. In the beginning, even reaching out felt risky. I was terrified of being judged yet again. But what I found there was something entirely different: compassion, understanding, and a deep, nonjudgmental support that met me exactly where I was.

Step by step, through the support and guidance I received, I began to overcome my fears and anxieties. The help I found within the SCARS support community gave me a place where I could breathe again. I could talk about what had happened without being blamed. I could admit my fears without being shamed. I could be understood without having to constantly explain myself. The support gave me back a sense of human connection that I thought I had lost forever.

Just as important was the access to a vast resource of knowledge about scams, trauma, and recovery. Understanding the psychological impact of scams helped me stop blaming myself. Learning about how manipulation works helped me realize that what happened was not because of any weakness in me. It was because someone else chose to exploit the best parts of who I am.

It has been nearly five months since the scam—the crime—came to an end, yet this week I’ve felt a profound and heavy sadness settling in. It’s not just grief over what happened emotionally, but also the financial reality I now face. I should be fully retired by this point in my life, resting after years of hard work, but instead I know I’ll be working for at least another four years. That truth carries a deep ache. There’s also sadness about what I gave—emotionally, spiritually, intimately—to people who never deserved it. I willingly offered a part of my inmost self, believing I was sharing it with someone real, someone who cared. But they didn’t care. To them, I was not a person—I was an ATM, a means to an end. That realization still cuts deeply.

What I’m feeling now is part of recovery. I understand that. The sadness, the anger, the betrayal—they’re phases I must walk through. I’m also angry that a human being could treat another human this way. It’s one of the many painful ways people hurt each other, and it’s impossible to make sense of it when you’ve been on the receiving end.

Still, I can feel something shifting. I know this moment of sadness will eventually lead into the next stage of healing. I’m nearly ready for that change. And I recognize I would not be here—at this point in my recovery—without support. The Survivor School from SCARS has played a crucial role. It’s helping me understand the psychology behind what happened and allowing me to reclaim the fragmented parts of who I am. My trauma therapist, and the strength and solidarity of my survivor sisters in the SCARS Alumni Support Group, have also been anchors. I am incredibly thankful. They’ve walked beside me through the darkness, helping me find the path forward.

Our culture does a poor job preparing children for the realities they will face once they enter the world as adults. Teaching that “everyone wins” and “everyone gets a trophy” may soothe temporary disappointments, but it fails to equip young minds for real-life emotional challenges. In doing so, we strip away essential opportunities for resilience, emotional literacy, and personal growth. When discomfort is avoided rather than explored, children learn that emotional pain is something to fear or hide—not something to understand. This avoidance can lead to internalized shame, emotional suppression, and in extreme cases, self-destructive behavior. We also diminish curiosity—an innate drive that encourages independence and growth—and then wonder why so many young adults remain emotionally dependent on their families.

One of the most powerful tools we can teach our children is the art of inquiry. Asking why—especially when paired with what, how, or where—stimulates both emotional and intellectual growth. And perhaps the first terrain to explore with those questions should be our emotions. Questions like “Why do I feel this way?” or “How does this emotion affect me?” guide us toward deeper understanding. Emotional insight is not just therapeutic—it’s essential for healing, resilience, and recovery.

This is especially true after experiencing a personal trauma like a scam. Victims often face a flood of emotional questions: What did I do? How could this happen to me? How am I going to survive? How do I explain this to my family? These are deeply human responses, but our culture’s obsession with blame often distorts them. We are taught that someone must be at fault, and in the absence of clear answers, we blame ourselves. But the truth is simple and liberating: you are not to blame. The crime was committed against you, without your knowledge or consent. Blaming yourself only strengthens the power of the criminal. It is like unlocking the jail door and letting them walk free. Healing begins when we reclaim the narrative and honor our emotions, not suppress them.

I can see that I’m on the path toward healthier, more positive coping in the aftermath of the crime I experienced. It hasn’t been easy, and while I’ve made significant progress, I also recognize that a few negative coping patterns still linger. They’re not overwhelming, but they’re there, quietly influencing how I respond to the world around me. One of the more persistent challenges has been social avoidance, which is less about fear and more about self-protection. I live in a rural, close-knit community where many families are interrelated and deeply entrenched in long-standing social norms. Despite the visible struggles in this area—domestic violence, substance abuse, gambling—there’s little empathy or understanding when it comes to cybercrime, especially scams. The dominant narrative here is one of personal failure: that a victim should have “known better” or “gotten out sooner.” There’s a deep undercurrent of shaming that leaves little room for honesty or healing.

Because of this, I choose not to talk about the scam with people around me. I’ve lived in this community for about three years, and most still don’t know me well. I tried twice to speak openly about my experience, and both times it ended in judgment. So now, I remain quiet publicly, but privately I have found safe places to speak. I’m fortunate to have a trauma therapist who offers understanding and insight without shame, and I meet with her twice weekly. My husband is the only family member who knows, and his support has been unwavering. In fact, we’ve grown closer in these last months, and his compassion has become a powerful source of strength for me.

Beyond therapy, I keep myself grounded. I stay active with regular exercise, I work part-time, and I explore artistic outlets that bring me a sense of peace. I also participate in the SCARS support group every Wednesday, which has become a vital anchor in my recovery. The people there truly understand. They listen without judgment, and that alone has been healing. Slowly, with the right support, I’m rebuilding my life—not back to what it was, but into something more self-aware, stable, and resilient.

I always thought that setting my thoughts and feelings aside so that I could function at work was just a helpful tool to be able to function. Now I see that I was compartmentalizing. To be fair though I was often told from the time I was 7 or 8 that I was very selfish and that I needed to set aside selfish thoughts. Since I had trouble understanding selfishness I found this exercise hard to complete. The only way I found to help me was to believe all my thoughts needed to be put away. This of course didn’t work either because those thoughts and feelings of being misunderstood would come out and haunt me. When I became a young mother in an abusive marriage I was forced to set aside my emotions and thoughts so that I could concentrate on having dinner on the table at a certain time (not one minute before or after), taking care of my child, and doing household tasks and making sure the husband was taken care of to his standard meant I learned how to put myself last for self care, or even thinking about what I was experiencing. This led to negative thoughts. Yes, I can see I have been compartmentalizing both mentally and emotionally. I had to for survival.

After my crime, I decided I had to be educated. But I felt fear, anxiety, shame, guilt, shock, betrayal, disbelief, there was so much. My goal was to learn, to be informed, to protect myself because I’m not getting any younger. Artificial Intelligence being now a part of scams makes everything more risky and frightening. I don’t want to be afraid but I know that I have to feel it and examine it and learn to deal with it before I can move forward.

It is understandable that you may feel afraid or insecure about joining a support group.
The reality is that support groups are designed to be safe and confidential spaces. Most members have experienced similar challenges and understand the vulnerability that comes with sharing.

Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Support groups can help normalize experiences and reduce feelings of isolation.
Sharing and knowing the stories of other people who have gone through the same thing is beneficial to improve confidence and not feel alone
We know that the fear of reliving trauma could be a reason for hesitation about the possibility of talking about what they experienced, but the
truth of professionally facilitated support groups are designed to handle difficult conversations safely and respectfully.
can be assured that they can share at their own pace and that there is no pressure to reveal details that they are not comfortable with, participating in a support group can help them regain control by providing tools and strategies to manage challenges.
since autonomy and empowerment are encouraged, not dependency, hatred or revenge

There are also other benefits to joining and participating in support groups, such as reducing isolation, increasing emotional support, and developing coping skills.

To join a SCARS Institute support & recovery group go to support.AgainstScams.org

My crime has set my world spinning! I was not searching for a love relationship. I am married and have been for nearly 28 years and I love my husband. What I experienced in the crime was overwhelming emotion. Soon I could not wait for the criminal to contact me each day. While I never once thought about divorcing my husband (yes, very strange I understand) the criminal spoke often and lovingly of us both leaving our current relationships and starting a new life together. While this made me feel uncomfortable, I did not question it. I miss that conversation intensely. The criminal used words and phrases that I’ve been struggling to let my husband know that I’ve found I need. It was exciting to feel these emotions, and in many cases gratifying as I’ve never considered myself to be beautiful or desirable. These are not words that my husband uses in our relationship. There is now a void as these conversations would happen throughout the day suddenly popping into my phone with reminders of how much I was needed and how much I was loved. The phone notifications are now silent. I struggle to find something to do and many things I should do are left undone. I see my age, I see the emptiness left by family members who seem to not want to spend time with us since we moved, I see how our culture does not value the elderly or seek their wisdom. In our culture I feel like a useless cog; I’m retired, I’m old and my years are numbered. In other cultures the elderly are sought out, included and valued especially to impart wisdom to the children and young adults. The elderly are not left to wither and die in nursing homes or assisted living wondering when they will have a visitor. Our culture has made it too simple to consign their elderly to a facility who will structure their days with activities leaving their family members free and guilt free to pursue their own agendas.

Each day that passes, I grow more aware of the importance of accepting what I’ve been through. Recovery isn’t just about surviving a scam—it’s about recognizing the experience, learning from it, and actively educating myself so I never walk that same path again. I took a detour into a bizarre, disorienting wonderland—something that feels almost surreal in hindsight, yet is becoming far too common. The internet, once a space of connection and convenience, is now a tool for criminals to exploit us in deeply personal ways. They don’t just steal our money—they steal our trust, our sense of safety, and often, our very identities.

I’ve come to see things in myself that I didn’t want to look at before. Vulnerabilities I didn’t know I had. Patterns I hadn’t acknowledged. And though I know I’ll never be the same person I was before the scam, that realization is strangely empowering. The version of me who was deceived—she didn’t yet have the insight I have now. I know the new me could also be vulnerable, but I’m more guarded, more self-aware, and far more protective of my boundaries.

I meet weekly with my trauma therapist to examine the deeper emotional and psychological layers that played a role in my victimization. It isn’t easy. Looking directly at the parts of me that responded to the scammer’s emotional manipulation—the parts that felt seen, loved, or validated by the fraud—is painful. But it’s necessary. It’s in this uncomfortable work that real healing begins. I have to face these truths, no matter how difficult, so that I can move forward without carrying shame or denial. It’s not about blaming myself. It’s about understanding myself better.

And in doing that, I reclaim the possibility of living fully and vibrantly again—not in spite of what happened, but because I chose to face it.

When I “woke up” and fully realized I had been the victim of a scam—a crime—I was overwhelmed. The emotional shock and shame were immediate, and I kept everything to myself. I had initially blocked the criminal, trying to move forward and shut the door on that chapter. But at some point, I reopened that door, and that decision became a painful mistake. That’s when the next phase began: the grooming to become a money mule. It was subtle at first, wrapped in emotional manipulation, but looking back, it’s clear what they were trying to do.

I filed a police report when I came back to my senses, but in the meantime, life continued. I experienced a significant family event, and the scammers maintained their efforts over the next two months, while I waited to hear back from local law enforcement. By the end of November 2024, the manipulation turned even more aggressive. They started gaslighting me—trying to make me question my own sanity. I blocked them again. But then came the emails. The original scammer resurfaced and pulled me back in emotionally, just enough to convince me to reinstall Zangi.

That was the lowest point. The language turned filthy, the accusations brutal, the emotional manipulation relentless. They claimed I was breaking their heart. I confronted them about the money mule grooming. They denied it and responded with more abuse. That was the final straw. I blocked them, deleted everything, and stepped away for good.

All this time, I didn’t tell my husband. That silence was one of the hardest burdens I carried—being in contact with criminals and hiding it from the person who loves me most. And now, after learning the truth, he treats me with such kindness and support. It makes the guilt even harder. I know I hurt him by not telling him sooner, and yet he stands by me. That’s what makes this healing process both beautiful and heartbreaking.

It is true that each victim-survivor’s experience is unique, shaped by individual history, environment, and upbringing. No two journeys through trauma and healing look the same. For me, one clear aspect of my path has been the complete absence of any desire to revisit the faces—real or fake—of the scammers involved. The fabricated photos used in the scam feel like victims in their own right. Those images represent people whose identities were stolen, just as mine was. They are symbols of others caught in the machinery of deception, victims whose nightmares may never end because they don’t even know they’ve been used. As for the real scammers—those who have been arrested and exposed—their lives reflect something even darker: a nightmare of their own making, forged in systems that are violent, compromised, and often beyond reform. I don’t dwell on them. My focus is on growth, on evolving into the person I was meant to become despite what happened to me. Life’s cruelty and injustice will always raise philosophical questions, but I choose to root myself in compassion. May I be safe, healthy, and at peace. And may all beings, even those I’ll never understand, find love, kindness, and peace.

As scam victims, it’s important to understand that real harm was done to us—financially, emotionally, and psychologically. That harm is valid and should never be minimized. But in most cases, the criminal who deceived us did not weigh the consequences of their actions, nor did they choose us because of something personal. For many scammers, their motivations fall into categories such as greed, survival, or coercion. Some operate out of personal ambition, some are trapped in organized criminal operations, and others are even forced to commit fraud in captivity under threat of violence. Understanding this doesn’t excuse what happened, but it reframes it. It reminds us that we were caught in something larger—a system of exploitation where the scam wasn’t about us specifically. That distinction matters. It helps release the shame, self-blame, and confusion that often linger after victimization. Realizing that we were not uniquely “targeted” can be a turning point in the healing process. It allows us to stop personalizing the crime and start reclaiming our sense of agency. It also empowers us to be more vigilant going forward. By acknowledging that scammers come from diverse backgrounds and operate under different motives, we can stay more grounded and cautious in the online world.

I am acutely aware that stepping into my new life will cost me my old one. This truth sits heavily with me, but I accept it. Letting go of what was—beliefs, habits, relationships, even parts of my identity—is not easy. I embrace this process with care and as much grace as I can hold, knowing it is necessary for growth. The unknown feels intimidating. It’s uncomfortable and often overwhelming, yet I know it is the place where transformation begins. To become who I was meant to be, I must walk through this uncertainty. Lately, finding courage, practicing self-kindness, and building resilience has felt like an uphill battle. It comes slowly, unevenly, and sometimes not at all. Still, I continue to show up for myself each day, even when it’s hard. I try again and again, because I understand now that healing is not a straight path—it is a gradual unfolding. Some days are quieter than others, and progress can feel invisible. But I remind myself that time matters. That patience matters. And that every step I take, no matter how small or unsteady, brings me closer to becoming whole. This reminder helps me stay grounded. It keeps me moving.