Blog Series: The Long Con - Why I Wrote The Long Con



Some Stories Beg to be told, not because they're pretty, but because they're powerful. The Long Con: A 12-Year Marriage Built on Lies isn't just my story; it's a mirror for anyone who has ever doubted their intuition, ignored red flags, or believed love could save someone determined to deceive. 

I didn't write this book for revenge. I didn't write it to relive the trauma. I wrote it because silence only benefits the liar, never the truth-teller. My voice, my pen, and my willingness to share became the very tools I used to reclaim my power.

The Weight of Silence

For years, I carried the weight of secrets that weren't mine to hold. Secrets about betrayal, manipulation, and the erosion of trust. Outwardly, it looked like a marriage. Behind closed doors, it was a performance staged to keep me questioning my own worth.

The hardest part wasn't leaving. The hardest part was realizing how much of myself I lost while trying to hold onto someone who was never real in the first place.

When the truth finally unraveled, it wasn't just about him; it was about me. What had I sacrificed? What patterns had I ignored? How would I rebuild from ashes without letting bitterness become my new home?

Writing As Healing

Every chapter I wrote felt like peeling back another layer of illusion. Putting words to my pain turned shame into strength. 

Instead of asking, Why me? I began asking, What now?
Instead of being haunted by lies, I learned to anchor myself in truth.
Instead of clinging to the brokenness, I chose to create something whole.

The book became both a confession and a compass. A way to document what happened, but also to map out a way forward, for myself and for anyone reading.

The Testimony

What I know is this:
Lies may trap us, but they can't define us.
Survival is not weakness; it's proof of resilience.
Rebuilding is possible, even after the deepest betrayal.

By sharing The Long Con, I wanted other women to feel less alone. To know they weren't "crazy" for believing, for hoping, or for trying. To know that walking away doesn't mean failure, it means freedom. 

This book is more than a memoir; it's a testimony. A record of the con that tried to break me, and clarity that set me free.

If you've ever found yourself questioning your reality in the shadow of someone else's lies, I want you to know that you can rewrite your story. Truth has a way of lighting up even the darkest rooms, and once you step into that light, you never have to return to the shadows.

Have you ever rebuilt yourself after betrayal? Share your story in the comments, or pass this post along to someone who needs to be reminded that freedom is worth the fight.

✍🏾 Published by pRose &nd Ink | Written by Dr. Tonya Johnson

With love and fire,
Ms. Bina
The Renaissance Woman the Algorithm Warned You About


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