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My Journey

I won’t tell you my name because it’s irrelevant, it didn’t matter when I was a child and it doesn’t matter now either.

My biological dad, the man who raised me, taught me to ride a bike, was there to pick me up after school, cooked me tea and tucked me in… Oh sorry, that’s a fairytale for me.. my biological father hurt me, badly, then he abandoned me when I wouldn’t obey him anymore.

My mother? We don’t get on, never have. All I wanted my whole life even now is a mom, but I know I’ll never get one. Not then, not now, not ever. That stings so much. It hurts the heart.

I was 6 years old when he started playing a game with me, just 6. I was 10 when he raped me, tore through my innocence, killed my soul, and destroyed my joy of childhood. I was 13 when it stopped. I didn’t care about myself anymore, I was dead inside. A soul as black as a raven. A heart that felt as though it didn’t beat for life anymore it beat purely to survive.

I started getting myself into really dangerous situations, I self harmed, I suffered with an eating disorder, I experienced trauma, Anxiety, and Depression.

Worst part I guess for me to remember is him drugging me and I started entertaining his friends. I didn’t want to, I just loved the high and I didn’t want to lose that feeling. Plus they all showed me so much attention and by this point I LOVED the attention of men, no matter how young I was or how old they were. He introduced me to a few, I danced, sometimes in school clothes, sometimes in underwear, I didn’t tell a soul. There was pictures, I’ll never know where they are. Sleeping with men much older than me stole a lot more of my life than I care to admit, I continued to search for that attention wherever I went. I felt so rejected if I wasn’t shown it from a man, I felt ugly, worthless, disgusting… funny thing is though, even when a man did show me the attention after he left I still felt ugly, worthless and disgusting. So it was just a vicious cycle.

I have diagnoses now but to be honest I don’t feel the need to go into them, not because I’m ashamed but because I am not those labels, I am just me. They don’t define me, I accept them, I own them, but I don’t live by them.

So, I guess I wrote this because I wanted to tell my dad, that I no longer believe in the monsters he’s created inside my head regrading myself. I know he is none existent in my world and I have battled past every single memory and thought I have about who I am, what I have done, and how I look.

I have forgiving him, not because what he done was okay, but for myself, because I have moved on from my past and I do not plan to allow it to control me ever again, he’s the one who has to worry now, because I have all the control.

I won’t go back there, I won’t go back into that locked box, I have thrown away the only key to keep my secrets with me. I guess sharing it here allows me to talk about it, without anyone knowing who I really am. I am not dead anymore though, I’m trying, I’m fighting, and I’m doing okay.

I want every survivor to read this and know it can get better, it can. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even a year from now, but it can get better. Reach out, talk. Keeping the secret is what kept my destroyed life mine, I wish I had shared sooner, or at all, but I didn’t. Don’t let that secret kill you inside. You are brave! Find someone you trust and tell if you can, I promise it’ll make things better.

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