My Story

The whole reason I dropped the charges is so I can forget about it, but opening up about it is what helped me heal. 18 years ago, I realized what was happening but, for only 7 of them I’ve told my story. I used to beat myself down for not opening up sooner, because then maybe I wouldn’t have been a “troubled teen”. Honestly, who knows what would have happened. I most likely wouldn’t be where I am now.

I was born into a small town and into a huge family. I have to admit I was very loved, maybe not ideally the way you could imagine. Being born into a family who has generations of trauma can almost always affect the next generations and most of the time without recognition. Most people don’t even realize they suffer from ptsd. Because we have heard the biggest misconception that only soldiers can get diagnosed. I can’t even tell you the amount of times I’ve explained I had ptsd and some uneducated Karen had to throw in that only soldiers get ptsd.

Scientifically, the law of action and reaction is a more reasonable way to explain the way things happen. Everything we do in life has an equal and opposite reaction. Some of us live with trauma the rest of our lives because it goes unnoticed and some of us admit we have a problem and work through it. No one is at fault. It is our human nature to “get over it”. It’s just that a lot of times most of us can’t get over it and it causes chaos.

I, myself, was the chaotic one. I didn’t even like who I was or who I was becoming. I never even thought I’d live to see my 17th birthday. Well, at least I didn’t want to because I was exhausted from life in general. It wasn’t an easy road to recovery, but I’m glad I made it out on the other side. I’m not saying it’s always easy. I still deal with my demons, but I know that I am one over the darkness because I have had and always have brought in the light.

Not only did I grow up with the abuse (and watched as he abused) from the monster himself, but I was also molested and raped before I even knew what the word vagina was. 5 years, I let a man grope me. Scared to go back home, I’d sign up and volunteer while in elementary. I’d sleep over with friends on weekdays and I’d go to church on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. The less I was home, the better. I’d cry and beg my step mom to take me everywhere she went, as if she’d understand, she couldn’t because I failed to open my mouth.

The day I opened my mouth was not planned. I was 12 and he was offshore, my grandmother had stayed with us during the week. My mom came over to visit us and I was to a point where I was begging her to take us with her. We swapped between parents between school days and summer. She told me that we’d have to wait until summer time before she could take us and as I’m screaming at her to take us with her, the words pooled out of my mouth like vomit.

Wait til the summer, she said.” Why? So he can touch me again?” I Didn't realize the words that were coming out of my mouth. “What do you mean by touch you?” my uncle asked for clarification. It had been 5 years and I had enough. Trauma sat with me for so long that I took most of the blame and I remember apologizing for not saying anything sooner. I should have, I know but I was a vulnerable kid and he was my dad. All I wanted was to be loved by him. Just not in that sick tone of visions that he had written all over his consciousness.

Worthy of love, I was. It didn’t stop there though. No. It haunted me. He haunted me. I went to court visits, counselors and doctors. Enough was enough. I couldn’t bear it any longer. The girl was taken out of the environment and she just wanted peace. No more chatting, no more reliving the nights of waking up duck taped in his bed. I was done. I wanted to be free.

No matter what I had done at that point, I wasn’t free. I could barely even live with myself. 14 years old and I had already seen multiple counselors and been on different meds to calm my “depression and anxiety”. Misdiagnosed at its finest. Sure, I was depressed and yes I had anxiety. Most people who experience trauma deal with it amongst other signs, symptoms and diagnosis. I’m a little fucked up. I know it. Most of us are.

There are more situations I like to leave in my private life, but this one; this is the story that threw a brick right through the course of my life. Because I never got angry at him, I never dealt with my trauma. I forgave right away and I went on with my life. It was myself that I was mad at, because maybe if I were the little boy he wanted then he wouldn’t have done it. Maybe if I wore something different, moved differently, acted or talked differently. I almost unalived myself because I blamed myself.

The point is, Trauma sticks with us. No matter how much we think we can handle, no matter if we think just because we’re out of a situation we’re okay. Trauma will always come back to bite us in the ass. Today I’m diagnosed with bipolar (manic depression and extreme impulse), bpd, ptsd, and anxiety. I’ve been med free for 4 years and thriving without it. All with admitting I was and had an issue and putting in the work to freely live without being dependent on trial meds.

I’ve learned to notice key factors of each “episode” and found ways to cope and get me through. Again, not every time is easy but with work and keeping it mind over matter I am surviving and you can too. Don’t think you’re strong enough? Yeah, I didn’t either and still fall into those deep dark intrusive thoughts. I’m on a mission and one thing about me is that I didn’t get this far for nothing. With that being said, helping you is what helps me and I know that we can motivate more and more people to fight their own demons.