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The Self Love Dilemma

Can you remember any time when you were so disappointed in yourself, thinking: “What’s wrong with me?”

And then you frown, going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole: “I’m making too many mistakes; I just don’t get it right. I often fight with others, I never stop complaining, and I hate myself for what happened that day, so long ago, when it was all my fault. I let myself down too often, so how can I trust myself to ever do the right thing? Come to think of it, I actually don’t even like myself. Loser…”

This is the typical train of thought of most people who treat self-love merely as a reward for one ultimate day — when they finally become the person they want to be. This behavior implies that their self-love is based on, or subject to, them being objectively “good” or “successful.”

However, as Aristotle stated: “Humans, deep down, love the self more than their favorite others (family and loved ones). But, as cultural animals, they can come to believe that they love their favorite others more than they love the self.”Which means, you already love yourself…

Which means, you already love yourself…which is fucking bullshit, but okay?

Just as Rumi stated, “Your task is not to seek for Love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” And this scripture example from the Christian Bible shows, Jesus is not “commanding” self love – but “assuming” it, evident in the text: ‘Love your neighbor as you (already do) love yourself,’ which means: Jesus assumes that every human being by nature loves himself.

You don’t have to fucking learn to love yourself- you just need to remember and believe in it.c87ac1e066bf573c1e475d30d8b7c626

its not over quite yet…

“It’s over.”
Where to even begin….
Should i start with how i currently feel or the way i feel now, because my past?
I am probably the most corrupt individual with the biggest heart for the ones around me.. I have never written one of these but i plan on making this the most personal thing i have come to know.
If this whole blogging thing is supposed to sound intelligent or meaningful, i should not be attempting this..
Back to the basics, where to begin.. this is going to last for hours.
As a child, you come to love and believe in everything you are introduced too… It is just a normal instinct to have trust in the ones that are supposed to be your guiders and protectors! Coming from a broken home of parents that constantly fought, adultery was natural to the both of them. or so it seemed that way.
DAMN, it was supposed to be so easy being a child..
One night, detail by detail… my life had changed forever. My outlook on parenting, my outlook on right from wrong. My outlook on love and trust. You read books and hear stories about the people your parents warn you about.. “danger, danger” Good touch, bad touch. Being taught by the ones, that impounded these terms into our minds.
.. then it happens. something happens. It feels like dream; more like a nightmare.
What am i talking about? I’m just a child with a wild imagination. For i am just a voiceless infant with words. I am fruit, an unripe fruit.. that was picked way to early..
Why me? I haven’t even blossomed yet.. I knew i was going to be more than just a fruit. I was supposed to be such a beautiful tree, with so many wonderful roots to grow from.
Well, i was wrong.. again.. It just kept happening, and happening. At this point, its kind of a natural instinct. Not really, just something you’re forced into doing… like chores.. Yeah? exactly like chores.. Like if i didn’t do what i was told, i would be punished for it.. How was i supposed to know if i was doing the right thing or not? I was only being led by my leader, my superior!
At this point, i am scared. I am unfamiliar with myself, my family, whom i could actually trust. Feeling violated for years… i lose myself.
Years go by, i don’t come around..
I try to forget this has happened.. Without having to go into detail just yet..
How is one, supposed to talk about them being violated.. revealed to the world. Well the touch and eyes of the ones they thought loved them as their own..
I was just a ten year old, trying to figure out what kind of plastic outfit i wanted to put on my polly pocket doll.. Yet, it wasn’t that simple. I was so scared.. SO very, very scared to come home every day.
Years go by,
its like every fucking thing around me clashed at once.. Not to mention, i was only 14.. The year i finally learned the difference in sexual activity, right from wrong.. This was my body and no one should violate it..
So basically, four years go by and it just keeps happening.. At this point i didn’t even care about living or dying.. I wake up, the only thing i could think about was this.. that..ALL OF That.
Somewhere along the lines, i find courage. The courage to say something.. The only voice i do actually have is to write it in a letter.. To a very close friend of mine at the time. Fuck… was this a MISTAKE..?
How is one supposed to believe me, at 14…stating this has been happening for years now. no evidence, no witnesses…actually( ones that were shelled and scared). I knew i wasn’t the only one that knew.. but i definitely felt alone.. And man; was i alone at this point.. Cops, defax, the whole corrupt city of this place.. I was hated..
I knew i had to move. I knew life was over in this place. My secret was out, (more like my lie) or so people referred it too.
Miles, and miles, Months and months…
Nothing could get rid of the memories and torture my mind had gone through.. My mind was the least of my worries.. the perception of me, ate at me everyday…and I’m still a child,..
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Lets pretend we skip a couple years. I space.. life is so shameful… I feel as if everything that has happened to me is my fault..
WHAT am i talking about, it only been a couple months.. I wish it were a couple years..
After leaving, more like disappearing for a couple months, i show my face again. hoping this would be forgotten about..
Like i said, logically, its only been a couple months. (6 minimum).. Lets play this game again…
What game?
What game you ask? The “favor”, game…..
At this point, we can already assume what starts to take place again..
Like i said, its only natural to play along..Not like “play” but be contaminated, used… What the fuck is going on… I have no clue.. My mind is gone.. MY heart is racing.. I secretly cry out… I desperately cry out.
I disappear for a while..
years pass.. I say nothing, why would i say something, its not like anyone believed me the first time… i had been sexually abused for six years, secretly..but not so secretly.. just ignored and distracted but what they didn’t want to actually know..
Wait a second..They didn’t want to face.. For me? ha! For me? I had to face this demon..this burden, every day!!!! At this point, it is…yes, still normal..
At this stage, they call it “grooming” their victims..and buddy, i had a fresh mane.
I guess you could say i was 15, 16? at this point… not really sure.. mind is gone. Emotions are fucking out of wack..
Junior in high school..It finally calms down. You would think, being the age i was, you would know..
OH, i did..this was the worst to come.
Junior year had ended..
Not the best years of the past at the last school…so i move back into the same place as this monster…
what the fuck is wrong with me? But wait its not me..its what seems natural..
Senior Year:
This will be seven (7). years of torture, it may be hard for most to understand..
even typing this i am still having a hard time understanding..
the the final step to his finishing came to an end.. my life, my soul and my dignity had been penetrated but not my body..
And we’re done just like that.. I am a woman.. Its time to stand up..
With EVERYTHING i had in my body, i had the courage to stand up to my worst enemy and say no.
This wasn’t the end….
I kept silent for a a couple years.
Throughout those years, i was more self destructive than before.
Sex, drugs, alcohol… whatever made me forget the reason i hated myself..
I absolutely hated myself……………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………….
It all came down to the day i couldn’t take it anymore.. My own life before my hands, also the hands of the person i had just laid the burden into.
My absolute life savor…lord how she saved my life that day…
No actions were made, just open ears..no judgment, just tears and sorrow.
And all she did was listen as i told my story.. she believed every word.
FUCK, i hated myself even more.. Now someone else knows..
i knew it wouldn’t be long until should couldn’t keep this disgusting secret.
About a year later,IT ALL WENT TO HELL..
She had told..
My world has unraveled at this point, no one was supposed to know..
God, i wanted everyone to know but i was scared more than life itself,..
not even being in the same state..I am being interviewed over the phone.. I knew my life was over.
The only person i felt that had my back, was myself.. I was so wrong..
At this moment. I was scared and so happy at the same time i didn’t know what to think.
Precincts, Investigators, and lawyers get involved…..i am nothing but secretly ecstatic.
Mind, body, soul…I am Shaking..This my my word…My own evidence, personal encounters against someone else’s… I’m exploding in the dark. Reaching for the endless dream… Endless miles between myself and my right state of mind.
I cannot go through this… This is the time when shit gets real!
YES, SHIT!!!!! FUCK!!! I’M GOING CRAZY…what does everyone expect right now?
for me to be “lying again”??????????????????
Buckle up, fuckers.. you’re in for hell of a ride…
Plea deals…
Oh wait,
This actually makes sense now?
OMFG….
Im stunned, NOT!
I will not give full details of this happening, but lives are (were) at stake…
but what no one knows is, what i had told that one person my “burden”, was only the half of the truth…
God damn..it comes down to me….
The DA..
HIs word, his attorney……MY word, against theirs… i WAS NOT WORRIED..
for the last time in my life, was i scared of someone..
At this point, everyone knows; no one necessarily knows, but has an idea.
Back to the Plea deal…
HA.. 180 days of, aggravated sexual abuse on an innocent child
sorry guys, this gets intense… Not happening buddy..
But he was only getting this because i have not yet been interviewed for my say…just for he said she said..
three days later.. i am sitting in the DA’s office.. Beyond scared for my life and innocence and sanity.. but at this point, my word is all that matters!!
I tell every god fearing, trenching story, happening….. every fucking detail..
I leave in tears.. MY life had been revealed..
Every second, moment, memory of my “lovely” god forsaken, tragedy, was spilled, for the world to trample upon……………………..
thinking my life was over, after not getting feed back for about a week,
I gained confidence in life again..
here i am 21 years old..
Just now getting closure of the worst childhood anyone could ever imagine..
hearing his sentence was the easiest..
Trial was the worst,
his family versus mine, one court date and it was final..
didn’t even give him a chance in a story, i felt like it was my turn to on life again,
i didn’t hold back one fucking second!! Every detail, every disgusting detail was told that day… five hours, by myself in the district attorneys office.. was hell and a rude awakening,.
but the moment i was able to tell my full story, with no judgment, no worries and no regret.. i was safe! My siblings were safe, my life was safe! MY whole fucking world was resurrected!!!!!!!!
Minimum 7 years, Max 20…
The court day came up, after i had spoken my entire life fulfilled, story…
Every detail of my child hood was spread around the court for every one to hear!
A good 200 people of the court,
Let alone, MY family! Who was there to support me.. Whom have never hear day tesified story, and then they did..
Every aspect of my life, envy detail, every mistake i ever made because of this, brought up in court.. A Federal Court System.
Yes, i was scared.. No i was not ashamed!
After every detail had been addressed, AND admitted too, I Knew it was all over..
I was finally free…I am me. I am human. I can now live. I can now tell my story!!
“A trigger is anything ( a sight, sound, smell, toucher thought ) associated with a past of negative event that activates a memory, flashback or strong emotion. Because triggers are directly associated with a particular event or event(s). That explains why different stimuli will trigger different people; and why a therapist can never remove or avoid every potential trigger in practice setting..”- Life


 

Im sure you’re wondering why I’m copying and pasting this random post..

 

 

  • HI

alexis Shelton here, im not really sure how to write this letter, but if its alright…ill make it into a blog.

 

see blogging is my way of coping and escaping  from reality.

if you only knew how I actually felt day to day. Can we start with myself?

im a very pretty 24 year old woman that has potential to actually do something in life but yet I’m to worried about what life Is like after  “Steve” will get out

so as a victim of a very fucked up situation that should have gotten more attention than it did, I’m not dealing with this release easily

wanna fucking get real? I heard that Stephen Holder was getting two years early release for good behavior

 

 

How in gods in gods god damn name does that happen???

 

, I’m wondering the same thing…

 

he has tried contacting my mother through his ex wife and his own kids to know how I was doing.

Plus then..  he left them with no money, house or sanity because he left it to his ex wife who always believed them.  Funny thing is, look where he is now. But honestly  jokes on me .

 

tbey promised me I would be safe

THEY is the FORSYTH COUNTY DEA SYSTEM…

and yet it isn’t happening that way.

 

Can i just start over again? This is how I think everyday.

In the past 6 years I feel disgusting and horrible things about  myself.

This is very random and all over the place but this resembles my fucking life.  I am overly sad everyday. Don’t believe me, ask my ex I thought I would be with my whole life because I treated him like dog shit . He only wanted to help and I’m yet in a mind set of hate and more hate.

And three years later I’m even worse..

 

 

 

 

someone steals your childhood and sanity at 10 years old life feels over.

yeah I’m scared for my life Bc he has to reside in Forsyth so I just got an apartment somewhere else. Why should I have to suffer every time? I cant even afford mental help for myself for something that isn’t my fault. I have to move away .

 

it impacts me to where I’m scared.  I’m scared to live. My boyfriend has to wake me up sometimes from screaming in my own fucking dreams. Or I end up screaming and waking  someone else up. I can’t be scared my whole life from something that wasn’t my fault.  So why am I being punished for it.

 

 

What if your kids had gone through this? What if your kids were touched on their private parts at 10 years old and groomed for years? Had to lie and make it feel Normal?? . What if it were your god damn kids?

He does not need to be out.

 

what if your kid had to deal with 7 years old secret sexual assault… ??

 

sorry Is not a reaction.

Being sorry is keeping him locked  away.

Do not put me or my family through more abuse by Norbert caring..

Listen and learn.  Do not let this happen to anyone else

i do not want to have to fear for my own safety

 

#2019 FeElS

“Life is tough” — that’s our favourite form of expression towards our existence these days. No?

Not beautiful, not wonderful, not hopeful. But tough. Tough because we can’t stop thinking about what’s coming our way. Tough because we spent the past 2-3 years in denial, in denial that we are growing up. In denial that we want to make it big but don’t know how. The confusing moments in our life soon became moments of denial. Those vague ideas about the “real” world are now so in-your-face that you’ve lost sight of the greatness you once dreamed of.

You feel safe having the job that makes you wear a blue ID card thing around your neck all day, and when no one is looking, you feel the tag choking you in your ill-ventilated cubicle. Then you see the likes of your shit bag boss  standing tall with the big boys — a teenager who’s making it in the world of cricket. You realize that he was nine years old when *** started. He made it. And then you ask yourself —

You find an old word doc dumped in your hard-drive. Your finger twitches as you open it, and you find a half-written love story that was your rebound project after you broke up. You squint at the words. The memory of the relationship seems silly now but the words spring out of the page and punch you in the face. They’re powerful. You’re surprised that you could feel that strongly about something, that you had clarity and keen intent.

Today, “frenzy” is the speed with which you can close your Facebook tab when you see your manager in the distance; “willingness” is clicking on the share-button; “aggression” is a hash-tag. Happiness stays in your bank account for the first half of the month before well-deserved weekends take it all away. You have a job, but there is no love that you can profess to it.

Your milestones have been “i want love, respect, and loyalty”. But when did anyone in this age want to settle for anything? Settle for love, settle for a job, settle for a house. Settle for a life. Basically 24. It’s a confusing age isn’t it? You could call yourself “young”, tell yourself that you still have time. But a year from now, you’ll be on the other side of your twenties. What are you saving the panic for?You have reached the point where you do something because you’re afraid, or you do something because there’s nothing to be scared about. But passion? Zero.

You say life is tough but you don’t say life is too short and you still have to think of a way of being remembered after you’re dead. You say “I’m too worked up” and you don’t realize in the same sentence that you’re selling your talent instead of using it in your advantage. You spend most days at home because by the time you come back from office, you’re too tired to do anything.

 

You’ve spent the last two years doing this and now, you’re sitting by the window looking at the dark sky thinking, “What am I doing? Why am I doing this?”. This is the best and the worst time to question your existence. If you don’t see meaning, write your own. If you don’t want to, then fine, continue existing.

Working for yourself versus working your ass off to make someone else richer — You know you’d always choose the former because it’s one life. The choice is yours. You either make a name and die or you lose yourself in making someone else’s name and die, what’s the obvious choice? The problem is you stopped thinking. It’s scary, it’s super frigging scary to work for yourself.

You don’t get holidays but you get contentment. You’re constantly working but you earn every outing. You don’t have a fixed salary but all the revenue you make out of your idea is solely yours. You make it big or keep trying to make it big, the point is you’re adding value to your life. Will you let the fear of failure stop you? Or will you fail now, when you’re still 24, and only become better?

You’re at an age where you can make it or break it. It’s better to break it and then make it because you learn from that. It’s stressful but it’s sweet. You’ll never know what it feels like to build a baby that’s not human and crying for it like you actually gave birth to it, if you don’t stand up right now.

You know you always wanted to be your own boss, you know you’re full of innovative ideas, you also know the wackiest ideas are the best ideas in this world. Then why resist? What’s the worst that can happen when you have youth on your side? You’ll fall but you have no responsibilities. You don’t have kids to take care of yet. If you don’t fall, how will you ever learn how to walk? How will you ever know you could or couldn’t have ever made it big? Failing is better than regretting.

Stop reading this for a second, look around, see your colleagues going mad on the computer over something that’s not even theirs. Look at them, banging their heads over something that can never be theirs. They are comfortable. Good. But you are not. You were never.

Quit your job today. Find out what you care about. Be broke. Dive into the sea. Make friends with strangers. Smile at a street urchin. Paint. Scream till you make music. Run till you dance. Look up till you fly. Dig deeper, rake the soil with your fingers, find your love for Mother Earth. Plant a seedling, an idea, your own heart- watch it grow with your sweat and toil and worry and moments of genius.

Because when you’re in love, time and money don’t matter. Because like your one and only lover, it will keep you up all night, working all Sunday, and your heart will swell with happiness. You love what you’re doing, you care, and you have a cause.

You can make that U-turn now, and you can do it with grace and patience. Or you can also do it with violence. Because this is your claim to a life, to live like a trail-blazer, to be the rebel tattoo in the world’s naked bottom — other people can find something cushy to sit on when you find your way into history, legend, and children’s story books.

There is a guitar gathering dust, a deflated basketball, an incomplete MS-Office 2003 doc, broken oil pastels, forgotten dreams, dysfunctional imagination — all of which are in some corner of your over-worked heart, but you couldn’t care enough to give them as much attention as you would give to an unpaid bill. You pay tax to have a good time but you won’t give real happiness a second chance.

You weren’t born to be tamed into comfort, convenience and normalcy. Anybody can be ordinary, anybody can stand in the middle of the population bell curve and believe that the world is made of people like themselves. But you — you are different. The question is if you want to continue letting your voice fade into the background.

It is a great time to be an american. 65% of the country’s population is under the age of 35. How long will it be before we become a country of old people? And what stories are we going to tell our grandchildren?

i could be a radical, a feminist, a communist, or any idealist. But when are you going to be yourself? The time is now. Close your eyes, let your heart race, listen to your pulse drum in your ears.

Being a believer and still suffering from anxiety…

“Mathew 6:25 –Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes . Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, AND YET your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying, add a single hour to your life?”

Hahaha WELL, i can wish that i can take some time off…or i can wish that i were dead sometimes, it’d sure take a lot off.

I’m just really dealing with emptiness, and in this emptiness, i realize its a lot of time that my values are shallow.. I’ve been thinking about my values. Not what i think they should be.. not what i want them to be but just gods values for me,

The worst thing someone could tell someone else that’s worrying; don’t worry.. unless you know something that i don’t , THEN GO AHEAD.

So i was watching a football game the other day with someone and it had been recorded until we could catch up. And they had checked the score. .and we were cheering for the same team. So while i was watching the game, i was also watching them. So when it got a little scary and they didn’t look scared, I didn’t look scared.

So when Jesus says “don’t worry”, he already sees how this shit is gonna work out, I should start to believe in this. This might be the only reference that i have but it made since..I mean, does Bama ever lose?

I’m not trying to preach church but i feel grateful that the one who knows the end from the beginning is already proficient to this current moment, it declares that HE. Is faithful is making me better.

If I’m worrying, I should start worrying about things worth worrying about.. like teen/ children suicide, racism.. things that are tough to seek change..

It’s time to turn it around. The question is, Why do i worry?

Stress> worry> anxiety> lack of sleep…then come the emotional neglect you go through. Do other people go through this? Lately, I’ve felt like nothing but alone.. but time to make a change and i know I can’t do it by myself.

And i keep asking myself..Why do I actually worry about things I currently cant change?

The reason that i worry and being really honest about it ..its not about what is happening to me, its about what’s in me that is strong enough to handle what happens to me..

But what is it that had me up at 3:30 this morning.. my mind just starts spinning.. and spinning.

Ill end with this..

Take no thought.

A thought that presents itself to you, can start you spinning in a direction if you take it. But it cant start you spinning, if you don’t hold on to it..

Blogging?

SO i most recently got calls and texts regarding what blogging meant to me.

In this day an age, who and when can you talk to? Can you tell them everything?

Uh,  actually 1 in 3 people suffer from depression and anxiety,

I am that 1/3.  I do not verbally spill my shit.. i either write or keep it bottled up.

So, that might answer your question.. I blog.

For the first two years I kept it anonymous.. then I joined group therapy from past bullshitt.. which i highly recommend,.

I am now a free spirit dealing with diff i don’t even think blogging will help,..

 

Can i invent my own area code?

 

 

Feels.

“Yeah, don’t talk down to me
That’s not gonna work now
Packed all my clothes and I moved out
I don’t even wanna go to your house
Everytime I sit on that couch
I feel like you lecture me
Eventually, I bet that we
Could have made this work
And probably woulda figured things out
But I guess I’m a letdown
But it’s cool, I checked out
Oh, you wanna be friends now?
Okay, let’s put my fake face on and pretend now
Sit around and talk about the good times
That didn’t even happen
I mean, why are you laughing?
Must have missed that joke
Let me see if I can find a reaction
No, but at least you’re happy”

 

Current lyrics of my fucking life..  i just need some time, i need to think straight.  i just need a moment in my own space..  you ask me how im doing, i say im ok… isnt that what we all say..

 

If you want love, you’re going to have to go through the pain. If you want love, you’re gonna have to learn how to change.

Brain stains

In my head lately, I can’t tell if I’m a fake it till I make it or a happily depressed person.

I just can’t seem to get rid of this dark cloud that shadows over my head everyday. I seem so happy at one point of the day but then if I really think about it, there is nothing to be happy about. Relationship wise…. do I really like this person because my emotions change on the Daily. Do I just not want to be alone or do I feel like in need to drag this person down with me as I spiral into an emotional pit bullshit.

Pathetic as fuck to think I feel like this about relationships because of a previous shitty one.
Crazy how one bad go around can ruin it for the Rest of them. Cheating, lying and whatever else was involved. Both parties but only I didn’t feel at fault. I’m curious to wonder if the SO can see that these feelings still reside within me….?
I can’t bring myself to get rid of these thoughts, memories, dreams and pictures of this shit bag to save my life.

My life is a gif

fuck people

what the fuck do i owe you?

 

 

Nothing!! i owe you nothing.

 

you go through life asking yourself who actually has your back..

This is a hard question.

It’s over.

Where to even begin….

Should i start with how i currently feel or the way i feel now, because my past?
I am probably the most corrupt individual with the biggest heart for the ones around me.. I have never written one of these but i plan on making this the most personal thing i have come to know.

If this whole blogging thing is supposed to sound intelligent or meaningful, i should not be attempting this..

Back to the basics, where to begin.. this is going to last for hours.

As a child, you come to love and believe in everything you are introduced too… It is just a normal instinct to have trust in the ones that are supposed to be your guiders and protectors! Coming from a broken home of parents that constantly fought, adultery was natural to the both of them. or so it seemed that way.

DAMN, it was supposed to be so easy being a child..

One night, detail by detail… my life had changed forever. My outlook on parenting, my outlook on right from wrong. My outlook on love and trust. You read books and hear stories about the people your parents warn you about.. “danger, danger” Good touch, bad touch.  Being taught by the ones, that impounded these terms into our minds.
.. then it happens. something happens. It feels like dream; more like a nightmare.
What am i talking about?  I’m just a child with a wild imagination.  For i am just a voiceless infant with words. I am  fruit, an unripe fruit.. that was picked way to early..
Why me?  I haven’t even blossomed yet.. I knew i was going to be more than just a fruit. I was supposed to be such a beautiful tree, with so many wonderful roots to grow from.
Well, i was wrong.. again.. It just kept happening, and happening. At this point, its kind of a natural instinct. Not really, just something you’re forced into doing… like chores..  Yeah? exactly like chores.. Like if i didn’t do what i was told, i would be punished for it.. How was i supposed to know if i was doing the right thing or not? I was only being led by my leader, my superior!
At this point, i am scared. I am unfamiliar with myself, my family, whom i could actually trust. Feeling violated for years… i lose myself.
Years go by, i don’t come around..

I try to forget this has happened.. Without having to go into detail just yet..
How is one, supposed to talk about them being violated.. revealed to the world. Well the touch and eyes of the ones they thought loved them as their own..
I was just a ten year old, trying to figure out what kind of plastic outfit i wanted to put on my polly pocket doll..  Yet, it wasn’t that simple. I was so scared.. SO very, very scared to come home every day.

Years go by,
its like every fucking thing around me clashed at once.. Not to mention, i was only 14.. The year i finally learned the difference in sexual activity, right from wrong.. This was my body and no one should violate it..

So basically, four years go by and it just keeps happening.. At this point i didn’t even care about living or dying.. I wake up, the only thing i could think about was this.. that..ALL OF That.

Somewhere along the lines, i find courage. The courage to say something..  The only voice i do actually have is to write it in a letter.. To a very close friend of mine at the time.  Fuck… was this a MISTAKE..?
How is one supposed to believe me, at 14…stating this has been happening for years now. no evidence, no witnesses…actually( ones that were shelled and scared). I knew i wasn’t the only one that knew.. but i definitely felt alone.. And man; was i alone at this point.. Cops, defax, the whole corrupt city of this place.. I was hated..

I knew i had to move. I knew life was over in this place. My secret was out, (more  like my lie) or so people referred it too.
Miles, and miles, Months and months…
Nothing could get rid of the memories and torture my mind had gone through.. My mind was the least of my worries.. the perception of me, ate at me everyday…and I’m still a child,..
……………………………………………………………………………………………
Lets pretend we skip a couple years. I space.. life is so shameful… I feel as if everything that has happened to me is my fault..
WHAT am i talking about, it only been a couple months.. I wish it were a couple years..

After leaving, more like disappearing for a couple months, i show my face again. hoping this would be forgotten about..
Like i said, logically, its only been a couple months. (6 minimum).. Lets play this game again…

What game?

What game you ask? The “favor”, game…..
At this point, we can already assume what starts to take place again..
Like i said, its only natural to play along..Not like “play” but be contaminated, used… What the fuck is going on… I have no clue.. My mind is gone.. MY heart is racing.. I secretly cry out… I desperately cry out.
I disappear for a while..

years pass.. I say nothing, why would i say something, its not like anyone believed me the first time… i had been sexually abused for six years, secretly..but not so secretly.. just ignored and distracted but what they didn’t want to actually know..

Wait a second..They didn’t want to face.. For me? ha! For me? I had to face this demon..this burden, every day!!!!  At this point, it is…yes, still normal..
At this stage, they call it “grooming” their victims..and buddy, i had a fresh mane.

I guess you could say i was 15, 16? at this point… not really sure.. mind is gone.  Emotions are fucking out of wack..

Junior in high school..It finally calms down. You would think, being the age i was, you would know..
OH, i did..this was the worst to come.
Junior year had ended..
Not the best years of the past at the last school…so i move back into the same place as this monster…

what the fuck is wrong with me? But wait its not me..its what seems natural..

Senior Year:
This will be seven (7). years of torture, it may be hard for most to understand..

even typing this i am still having a hard time understanding..
the the final step to his finishing came to an end.. my life, my soul and my dignity had been penetrated but not my body..
And we’re done just like that..  I am a woman.. Its time to stand up..

With EVERYTHING i had in my body, i had the courage to stand up to my worst enemy and say no.
This wasn’t the end….
I kept silent for a a couple years.
Throughout those years, i was more self destructive than before.
Sex, drugs, alcohol… whatever made me forget the reason i hated myself..
I absolutely hated myself……………………..
………………………………………………………………………………………….

It all came down to the day i couldn’t take it anymore.. My own life before my hands, also the hands of the person i had just laid the burden into.
My absolute life savor…lord how she saved my life that day…

No actions were made, just open ears..no judgment, just  tears and sorrow.
And all she did was listen as i told my story.. she believed every word.

FUCK, i hated myself even more.. Now someone else knows..

i knew it wouldn’t be long until should couldn’t keep this disgusting secret.
About a year later,IT ALL WENT TO HELL..
She had told..

My world has unraveled at this point, no one was supposed to know..
God, i wanted everyone to know but i was scared more than life itself,..
not even being in the same state..I am being interviewed over the phone.. I knew my life was over.
The only person i felt that had my back, was myself.. I was so wrong..
At this moment. I was scared and so happy at the same time i didn’t know what to think.
Precincts, Investigators, and lawyers get involved…..i am nothing but secretly ecstatic.
Mind, body, soul…I am Shaking..This my my word…My own evidence, personal encounters against someone else’s… I’m exploding in the dark.  Reaching for the endless dream… Endless miles between myself and my right state of mind.
I cannot go through this… This is the time when shit gets real!
YES, SHIT!!!!!      FUCK!!!  I’M GOING CRAZY…what does everyone expect right now?

for me to be “lying again”??????????????????

Buckle up, fuckers.. you’re in for hell of a ride…
Plea deals…
Oh wait,

This actually makes sense now?

OMFG….

Im stunned, NOT!
I will not give full details of this happening, but lives are (were) at stake…
but what no one knows is, what i had told that one person my “burden”, was only the half of the truth…

God damn..it comes down to me….

The DA..
HIs word, his attorney……MY word, against theirs… i WAS NOT WORRIED..
for the last time in my life, was i scared of someone..
At this point, everyone knows; no one necessarily knows, but has an idea.

Back to  the Plea deal…
HA.. 180 days of, aggravated sexual abuse on an innocent child

sorry guys, this gets intense… Not happening buddy..
But he was only getting this because i have not yet been interviewed for my say…just for he said she said..

three days later.. i am sitting in the DA’s office..  Beyond scared for my life and innocence and sanity.. but at this point, my word is all that matters!!
I tell every god fearing, trenching story, happening….. every fucking detail..
I leave in tears.. MY life had been revealed..
Every second, moment, memory of my “lovely” god forsaken, tragedy, was spilled, for the world to trample upon……………………..
thinking my life was over, after not getting feed back for about a week,

I gained confidence in life again..
here i am 21 years old..
Just now getting closure of the worst childhood anyone could ever imagine..

hearing his sentence was the easiest..
Trial was the worst,
his family versus mine, one court date and it was final..
didn’t even give him a chance in a story, i felt like it was my turn to on  life again,
i didn’t hold back one fucking second!! Every detail, every disgusting detail was told that day… five hours, by myself in the district attorneys  office.. was hell and a rude awakening,.

but the moment i was able to tell my full story, with no judgment, no worries and no regret.. i was safe! My siblings were safe, my life was safe! MY whole fucking world was resurrected!!!!!!!!
Minimum 7 years, Max 20…
The court day came up, after i had spoken my entire life fulfilled, story…

Every detail of my child hood  was spread around the court for every one to hear!
A  good 200 people of the court,

Let alone, MY family! Who was there to support me.. Whom had never heard my testified story, and then they did..
Every aspect of my life, every detail, every mistake i ever made because of this, brought up in court.. A Federal Court System.
Yes, i was scared.. No, i  was not ashamed!
After every detail had been addressed, AND admitted too, I Knew it was all over..
I was finally free…I am me. I am human.  I can now live. I can now tell my story!!

“A trigger is anything ( a sight, sound, smell, toucher thought ) associated with a past of negative event that activates a memory, flashback or strong emotion. Because triggers are directly associated with a particular event or event(s). That explains why different stimuli will trigger different people; and why a therapist can never remove or avoid every potential trigger in practice setting..”- Life..

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