Category Archives: Adult Survivors of Child Abuse

Adult survivors of child abuse can still be affected by their abuse as children. In this category I will be talking about adult survivors and myself, as I am also a survivor of child abuse and I personally have gone through many of the effects of child abuse from sleep disturbance to trust issues.

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Healing from PTSD

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I am currently healing from PTSD and I am in year 2 of dedicated healing. Below are the topics I will be discussing in the video:

Insomnia
Nightmares
Night Terrors
Flash Backs
Intrusive Thoughts
Sadness/Hopelessness/Otherness
Anxiety
Self Hatred
Anger/Hostility
Hypervigilance
Suicidal Thoughts
Disassociation

 

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My PTSD is Trying to Kill Me Again

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“I will take your sleep which in turn robs you of your patience, your energy, and your ability to heal your physical body.

I will take your peace of mind and replace it with daily terror and fear. I will fuck with your memory, some days you will be not be able to put 2 sentences together, or remember to take care of yourself. You will question everyone around you and wonder if you can trust them but I won’t stop there. I will slowly grind away at your ability to trust yourself.

I will erode away at your self-confidence that you could be out in the world and survive. I will make you question your ability to survive by wrecking you with panic attacks, emotional flashbacks, and linking things in your normal life to your past so that it’s always right there in your face.

I will steal your peace away with flashbacks, hallucinations, and intrusive thoughts. I will make you feel crazy. I will pull you into a pit of despair as you struggle to smile and climb out.

Finally, I will steal your will to live. As you struggle to take it one day to time, hour to hour, and minute to minute, I will steal days, months, and years from you as you wait it out, wait to feel better, and wait for me to stop but I won’t. You will watch your life go by and everyone around you while you are at the state of paralyzing anxiety and stuck with me. My claws dig deep into your physiological flesh. I try to rip it.

I am such a mind fuck that I will not kill you myself but I will convince you to do it yourself or to be destructive enough in your urges that someone else might. I will convince you that it’s your only option and the only path to peace.

Death is the only peace-“

I SAY-FUCK THAT!

**This is the part where the superhero me, “self-care and love”  me comes in and kicks PTSD’s ass!

She ties up PTSD, and throws the fucker in the trunk.

“Enjoy the ride, ASSBUTT, you don’t need to be the front seat anymore!”

Superhero gets into the passenger seat and smiles at the driver which is me. In the backseat are my other selves the 3 year old child me, the twenty-something me, the teenager me, the villain me, the big angry guerrilla me, and all the others that occupy space in my mind that are all parts of me.

We listen to some music on the radio that we all like we jam out as we drive down the road to a happier life with PTSD securely in the trunk.

That’s how I see it in my head anyway. 28 people diagnosed with PTSD take their life every day. That is more than 1 per hour. Today, I am not one of them. This illness is trying to kill me and I will not let it. Not only with I live through this, just surviving, I will thrive and to my best to help lift other people up that are also suffering.

I’d really like to create videos of these scenarios as art therapy.  Hopefully, I can some day. I’m working on getting some special effects skills under my belt.

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Living and Coping with PTSD

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I just finished reading this book about PTSD called, “What’s Your Superpower?: Living and Coping with PTSD” by Bob Wagner. Usually I fly through a book, devouring all its bits much like I eat french fries but this was more like a fine steak dinner that you savor each part.  I had a lot of emotional reactions and cried a lot while reading.  I was triggered a couple times but I really loved how the author did not mince his words and got right down to the heart of what it is like to live with PTSD on a daily basis. He describes it perfectly and in a way I just want to shout it to the rooftops that is you have PTSD this book is VERY validating and if you love someone with PTSD, it is a book for you too. I’ll be directing people to this book a lot like I do the other resources that have helped me in my ongoing journey.

It really helps me to read books by people with the PTSD themselves instead of some educated person’s theory on it. Its comforting and heartbreaking that I am not alone in what I go through every day. I’m very thankful that he was able to open up like he did. I also learned that 28 people that have been diagnosed with PTSD commit suicide EVERY DAY! That’s a horribly large number and to think that is just the ones with a diagnosis and just the ones that are classified a suicide. I understand why though. PTSD tried to kill me and continues to through its bitch-ass hat in the ring every few months.

This book also helped me to see the behavior caused by PTSD and what is actually part of my personality. There are assignments in the book for PTSD sufferers and I enjoyed them although some are still in progress in my mind as well as my journals. I had already started working further defining my symptoms vs what is just me and my dorky weirdoness. Reading Bob Wagner’s book further helped to bring that home that my identity is not my disease and visa versa.

If you can not tell, I highly recommend this book and it is worth owning digitally to refer back to again and again. It is a story of strength and understanding. The author still struggles with PTSD and overcomes it every day to live his life. This book made me realize that I do the same and inspired me to keep going. My disease has been trying to kill me again as I go into this new phase of healing. It is lying to me and taking things from me like sleep and time. It makes me feel crazy but what is really happening is that I’m fighting.

This book also addresses the stigma that comes along with mental illness as well as the many stupid things that people say to you if you do happen to have a mental illness. Reading this I began to realize what a fucking underdog that I really am: sex worker, female, abuse survivor, mentally ill. This doesn’t make me feel bad anymore though. I don’t hold near the amount of shame that I used to about anything I listed above.  I hope to one day write a book from my perspective as well. There are some big plans that I decided not to wait to do when I feel better. Here’s the thing: I might not feel better, my disease might kill me, I might get hit by a bus tomorrow. I have started to progress toward my dreams if only one small step per day. This book is one more tool in my arsenal against PTSD and living my life. As it says in the book though: Living another day is one for the win column.

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Anger: Venting- Healing From Child Abuse

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I’m angry and I’m allowing it to happen. I’m allowing myself to feel it fully now and it scares me. It can scares others since I’m female…society says I’m not allowed to be angry, my abusers said I wasn’t allowed to be angry either so I know its fucked to believe anger is an emotion that I’m not supposed to have. Tough titty, here it is! How inconvenient for others and I don’t give any fucks about it. Actually, I’m really pissed about being mentally abused for having a natural reaction to abuse. Anger is normal, anger is ok, its ok to be angry. I have every right to be angry. Now what do I do with this?!? I’ve been really sad and cycling through a lot emotions in the past year and once again the wheel of emotions has stopped at anger.

Its different this time. This is old anger that doesn’t have words. Its anger from my childhood. It was formed when I didn’t know the English language very well yet. I was too young to form the thoughts an older child would.

What I will do:
I’m going to learn everything I can about anger, its driving force, the source(pain,FUCK!) let it happen, and deal with it the healthiest ways I can. I will scream and shout, punch pillows, break items that are designated for that purpose. I will write like mad and work on projects with my new found passionate energy that hopefully I can use from this immense ball of feelings. I’m going to breath and love myself through it like I have other parts of my healing process. I will show up and do my best. I will have compassion for myself as a human that has been through some awful shit.

What I will not do
I will not hurt myself or others(I will try but someone is bound to get their feelings hurt). I won’t destroy anything that isn’t designated for that purpose. I will not direct the anger at myself but at who is really to blame. I will not be shamed into silence by apologists, trolls,ect. I will not suppress it. I will attempt to not stop myself from feeling as much as possible. I catch myself now. I will not make unrealistic expectations of myself that I learned from narcissistic assholes and our asshole society.

VENT/RANT
I will not suffer ignorant fools that choose to not educate themselves or be compassionate with survivors. I am cold and have no compassionate for those who do not have compassion for others. I’m not only done with them, I’m ready to shun them and treat them like they treated me. Of course, they can’t take a dose of what they dish out and some don’t even realize they are re-traumatizing people with their lack of empathy. Also, fuck sympathy. I’m stronger than a lot of people. Many people that have been through 1/10th of what I have are gone, dead, and I am STILL HERE. I will learn to love myself despite everything I’ve been told to the contrary.

Part of me remains here for spite, to one day read about the death of my abusers, to out-live them. Letting them live their miserable lives instead of killing them is a much better plan than any vengeance I could plan to visit upon them. I planned a lot, too. This also keeps me out of prison. It is ok to write it all out and release it. It is when serious plans get made and the fantasy starts to actually take over large amounts of time that I know I need to back off. Besides, I had the chance to kill or remove the genitals of one of my abusers and I didn’t. To me, that means I’m stronger than that. I’m stronger than the abuse that has infected my mind. There is something in me that’s better, stronger, and kinder than that. Kindness and not hurting others no matter how much pain I am in the my true strength. Love is stronger and that is VERY real. I just have to allow it. That I can see someone as another human trusting me and not take advantage even though I can see the direct path to doing so. I see the path to taking care of that person too and choose that(and by other people I mean myself too!). Its not black or white but I am going to strive to turn this force that is anger into something good for my life.

I feel better since I wrote this all down but I’m still pissed. I am going to speak out more about child abuse and share helpful information. Maybe one day I’ll have enough to really help someone and be there for them the way I’m learning to be there for myself. I have another driving force inside me that is not anger but this drive to share what I have learned about healing so others can heal too. I want to show others that it is possible to heal and feel better. It is still difficult and there are bad days but IT DOES GET BETTER. It was heal or death for me. I chose to heal. My anger will manifest to an intense passion to bring awareness and compassion to myself and others.

Thank you for reading.

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I Lived

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I won’t break myself part anymore and hide the pieces that you won’t accept.
The whole of me rejects being apart from itself any longer.
Pieces have become integrated.
Life is being lived.
I’m afraid.

I cry, I scream, I dance.
There is sitting for long silences and bursts of unrepentant laughter.
…and I LIVE.
I allow me to be myself and celebrate what that means every day.
I’m happy and grateful.
Just being me.
Becoming who I have the potential to be.

I forgive myself what had to happen to survive up to this point.
I thank myself for getting us this far.
Us, all of us, the little girl, the teenager, the young woman, and who I am today sitting with all of them and looking with compassion and sometimes wonder that we made it.
I made it.
I lived.

I’m not really sure what to do if it would be considered a bunch of words on the screen or a poem of sorts. It came from my heart so and how I feel today after recovering very dark place that I was in. I’m able to look back now and see that I made the right choice not to kill myself. I feel like I’ve conquered something. I had this feeling of, “They didn’t win” and “Fuck them!”

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Goal: Stop Being So Damn Hard on Myself

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As I started my healing process last year I made a promise to myself that I would stop being so hard on myself about every little thing I could possibly be hard of myself for. I came to realize that I was treating myself much like the people in my life who were abusive. I did not let myself rest very often or let myself have is that I wanted. I second-guessed myself at every turn and I minimized my own feelings and abilities for the comfort of others. I had a broken record of complete and utter bullshit filing cabinet in my mind as to why I wasn’t able to do things or do anything right. I would literally mentally beat myself up if that I did not meet my own unrealistic expectations that eerily matched the unrealistic expectations of abusive people that have been in my past. The words in my head were not mine. It was the echoes of the things said in the past still haunting me. Insults and untruths which I am still working on processing and accepting them for what they are.

I have gone through most of the bullshit and even proven some things wrong with concrete evidence akin to “Oh yeah? Watch this, Motherfucker.” What seems to be left now are remnants. The things that I have to be hard on myself now are nothing now that my brain is really and truly started to make some shit up. For example I was being hard on myself about not updating my clip store or my video diaries on a daily basis and nobody really gives a fuck about that. The world is not going to end if I don’t update something on a daily basis.

When I really thought about this I had to laugh. Is this really all that’s left that I can badger myself about? Is this it? Is this all you’ve got? YES! I feel elated that I have hit this point where I can laugh at what a hard ass I am when it comes to myself instead of feeling blah and continue to beat myself up. Laughter is a game changer. Immediately, it changes my focus. Laughter is cathartic like crying the more fun and less puffy face.

I filmed a video diary somewhere along the way in January that talks about this very thing. I laugh in the video about how hard I am on myself and that I don’t really have anything to be hard on myself for anymore. And this is true! The feeling of elation is now turning into acceptance and into a soft smile for myself out of love. Yep, that is me. I’m doing OK.

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Still Angry – RANT

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I’ve been reading “The Courage to Heal” that I arrived in the mail the other day. It’s really helping me to understand the stages of healing and then everything that I’m feeling is okay. I’ve been grieving and angry…mostly angry. I don’t think the words grieving and angry really cover the mountain and feelings that come with this. It really doesn’t feel okay. Feels awful. It hurts so much.

It is very difficult for me to feel angry and to be in touch with my anger. For many years. I was told I had no reason or right to be angry and eventually after being told over and over again that I had no reason to be angry, starts to just compound upon itself on the inside. This is very unhealthy to go through life for years and not be allowed to really express anger. I even had my ex-husband tell me that he thought I was punishing him, even though all my anger comes from one place and that is the deep pain that I feel every day. It’s just one more way that they can blame me, and it’s just one more thing that seems to haunt me.

I don’t like to feel anger. I don’t what to be mean to people. I don’t want to hurt anybody. When I get into this stage of healing I don’t know what to do. This is usually when men will tell me that anger is not attractive, and that it’s not okay, calm down, its not happening now, what is wrong with you, just don’t think about it, do things to distract yourself, take this pill, drink this wine…

Is this part of PTSD? Will my feelings go from being very angry to this strange feeling of acceptance of not being able to get out of that mindset that I been in for so many years. This mindset tells me that I should feel bad for feeling angry for the things that happened to me. What makes me the most angry is that the people who told me that it’s not okay to be angry, are the ones that hurt me.

Seems as a female, I never allowed to be angry anything for any time anything to matter how unjust or unfair it is. Your just supposed to take it because that’s the way life is. While I’m calling bullshit. If it was supposed to be this way it would feel this way.

It makes me angry that I still hear their voices in my head. Makes me angry that I tell myself the things that they told me in it makes me feel horrible and sad in that sadness that turns to anger.

I’m angry that they weren’t punished for what they did. I do not think that living with what they did no matter how hurtful that could be is good enough of a punishment for what they did to me.

The acts themselves really did hurt and they did mangle my mind but what made it worse was all the mind games that followed to try to blame me and hold me responsible for actions that were not in my control. That fucking hurts.

I’m angry because I’m second-guessing myself but even as I write this because I am more of a conversational writer and and not a great one either. I’m not even the best voice to talk to people about these things because how could anyone understand me when I don’t understand myself.

I think that’s where I need to start and I need to keep forgiving myself, that I need to keep saying to myself positive things and reassurances over and over again until the voices stopped telling me otherwise.

I need to stop being mad at myself to treat myself with some compassion. I had compassion for them. I made excuses for them. I lied for them. I hurt myself. I suffered for them. I hated myself for them so that they could feel better about themselves when they were truly the one who were not worth anyone’s time, especially mine.

No, I want to ask why. Now I’m trying to interrogate myself ask those why? Why did you do this, why did you do that, why did you allow this. Why did you let this happen
None of that really matters, because that way questioning is hurtful and the reason that it’s hurtful is because why is “explain yourself” like an interrogation.

The same bullshit why questions that they used always ask me when I was expressing the fact that I wouldn’t pay what they did. It’s enough to make anyone crazy. It’s enough to make me feel crazy and exhausted and prickly.

My anger scares the hell out of me. When I’m angry I think very dark thoughts. And I think about doing very dark things. My brain starts to plot and plan, and in its own little engineering way, try to figure out solutions to the common problem of how to get away with some type of vengeance. That’s not who I really am though. Its a manifestation of shit I’m not dealing with or accepting of myself. Its a distraction, something to stay busy.

The reason I know that I’m not that kind of person, even though I have little violet fantasies about revenge is that I had the chance. Someone who raped me was lying in front of me tied up. I had every opportunity in the world to hurt this person or kill them. And in that moment that I realized I had power over them, and the opportunity to do things to them that they had done to me. I stopped. It’s like all of a sudden I lost complete interest. Somehow, in their mind, They had justified what they done to me, but I could not justify to myself to do those things to another human being, or any living thing for that matter. That’s who I am. I can be given power over someone else. And instead of wanting to hurt them or damage them, something else happens. I see that vulnerability and I RESPECT and honor it. And all I want to do in the world is for that person to have a good experience under me. I am not a murderer. I am not a rapist. I know how to love and I have compassion for others, even if they may not deserve it.
Weak people tear others down , and put them down in order to feel better about their own pathetic lives. To one up another for what? Wow, good job, you’re the special fucking snowflake now. Do you feel better? What a fucking waste of energy and time.
Part of me hates people part of me loves people. No, I think I actually hate people. I just have a respect for consent, and for life. Does that make me better than the people who hurt me? Fucking ‘a right it does, Fuck them! They are the weak ones for strong people do not hurt children and vulnerable people. Strong people lift people up, support them, and help us all to be better versions of ourselves and WANT to be better than were were yesterday through their inspiration. That is strength. THAT is power.

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Big Decision

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I’ve decided to downsize and move to a smaller place. Part of me feels like it may be holding me back to have all this extra space and stuff and possibilities of things that I no longer really want in my life. This place reminds me a bad times in my life. I don’t think there is any amount of work I could do on this place and not feel slightly disgusted with it. The positive thing about moving from this place is that it is a life-changing opportunity. It really scares the crap out of me to make this big change, but I think it’s can be for the better. I can look forward to a quieter place to work, less to clean, less upkeep, and no triggers from the new space. The new place will be in a new part of town , so there will be even less reminders. I feel like I’ve gone as far as I can go while living in the space that I was abused in. Right now, every room has some sort of memory that hits me as soon as I walk in. When I’m away from the house I noticed that I am happier and my mood is lighter. When I’m home, I tend to want to curl up in a little ball or my demeanor changes more like cranky and angry sort of tone. I don’t want to live my life like that anymore and I don’t feel like I’m running away from this place. It’s just time to move on and get on with my life and live for myself.

Here are the pros about moving to smaller space and downsizing because I’m terrified and I need reassurance that this is the right choice:

closer to family/my support system
more money to expand current business ventures
lower monthly bills
24-7 gym and pool access without having to drive
less clutter
more natural light and windows to look out of
no more sticker plants in my feet or the dog feet
no more triggers when I walk into a certain room
much quieter neighborhood so I can concentrate on work or enjoy a quiet evening
Move forward with the next stage of my healing in my life
Able to donate more and contribute to someone in need through downsizing
The new place is more private
No more home repairs or upkeep
Don’t mention that it’s quieter?

Here are the Cons of moving and downsizing, these are the things that are stressing me:

I will have to deal with a lot of people in order to downsize
I have pride issues with having a smaller, cheaper space
I will be giving up spaces that I would use for work and art projects
I would be giving up having my own space for possible shoots
If I do want to shoot with other people I will need to rent a space
Packing, moving, and deciding what to keep is frustrating

Now that I’m looking at the list of Pros versus the list of Cons, the cons seem a bit silly to me. They’re all centered around self-doubt and shitty feelings that would only be temporary with the gain far outweighing the losses. I look to what’s really inside me and what I want to do with the rest of my life. I can tell that the Cons list is just me trying to hang on to an old life that I don’t want anymore. Change is scary, but it is necessary to move forward in order to heal myself and feel better. All of these temporary inconveniences scary moments are just shit I will have to deal with to move and downsize are nothing compared to continuing to live in a place that is holding me back. It’s too comfortable and too easy to stay here and live in my old patterns and remember the abuse that occurred here. I have been reading about breaking out of comfort zones and that’s what I’ve been doing my entire life. I’m really good under pressure and I know deep down I will be thankful for this decision down the road.

So this stage of my healing and journey through life begins…

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Comforting and Horrifying – Free Writing

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This is free-writing or that’s what I’m calling it and the English majors can piss off. This is a spill of my thoughts onto the page. I’m not interested in correcting it, its raw and my words, my truth. I don’t know why I still feel defensive about what I am doing but I do. Before anyone can bitch and moan and criticize me, I’m already explaining. I expect it. I’m used to it. I’m used to being told to shut up and that my pain is not “Appropriate” and no one cares. Here goes everything…

I am not alone. I am not alone in feeling this type of mental pain and anguish. I find the thought both comforting and horrifying at the same time. I wish I was the only one now as that would ease some of the pain of the world but that’s not possible. I am not alone in being raped as a child. I am not alone in once being a wife that her husband thought he could just do whatever with because he was entitled. I recommend NOT trying to find others online that have been through these things. Many are gone in an attempt to end their pain. Does it end it? No one really knows.

The decision to stay here and not kill myself is yet another selfless act of protecting those I love and care about from from that kind of pain. I’m preventing myself from hurting them. I gave a lot of thought to how I would do it and realized that if I completed the planning and carried out my death, I would damage the people that I cared about the most and more than myself. I came to realize that they would blame themselves and they do not deserve one once of the pain of self blame.

Others have used this love to hurt me and sometimes to hurt them. Not allowing certain acts and standing up for myself, threatening to tell, got my family hurt. This manipulative grooming and cruelty was never my fault yet I was told many times by the men who raped me. I hear echoes of this in our culture and its painful but do I speak out or try to ignore it? Ignoring it does not work. Once its in the engine it becomes part of the mechanism itself. It seeps into everything and destroys happiness until someone somewhere tells us that we don’t have to suffer. Its not our fault, they believe us, and that we can heal.

I don’t know if I can heal. I want to believe I can. I thought healing and getting past things was and end to thinking about it, remembering it, or being triggered. That’s not what healing is according to experts and other survivors. When I learned that healing is really just being able to deal with the memories when they come up and they are part of my life forever, I felt devastation. Devastation was followed by half-ass acceptance followed by denial and around this circle I went, mourning yet another lie of rape culture…that you can get over it and its gone.

I think about that stupid lie I was told and I realize more now about feelings and memories combined with my own life experience that my use of denial actually may have kept me more sane than I can imagine. Why did these people just expect me to be fine after this? Why is this an expectation of fall apart or be just fine and dandy, nothing is wrong, FUCK, sometimes I hate that I bought into the lies but what else did I really have to compare it too? I’m still working on forgiving myself and being nice to myself. I constantly have to forgive myself, my child self, my adolescent self, my adult self as a young woman. I have to forgive my older self now for quirky things that annoy me about myself. Yes, I get annoyed with myself and my sometimes neurotic feelings but then again, those are not my words either. Given the events of my life, how would someone be. What would they think.

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When I Wasn’t Silent Anymore…What Happened?

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So what happens when you aren’t silent anymore? What happens when you tell people you were abused as a child and raped as a young adult? I can’t tell you how your experience will be. For me, it was so scary but I felt like that’s really the only option I had left besides suicide. Keeping what had happened to me a secret was killing me. I was thinking of ways that I would kill myself. I was done. I didn’t want to hurt anymore. As self reliant and stubborn about it as I am I was lying to myself that I could heal this pain on my own. I’ve known from a very young age that people can’t be trusted. I didn’t trust people with my truth. My fears were that they would twist every word I said like others in my life had or somehow use it against me. The reality is that speaking out just made it so no one could use it against me ever again. I was public about it, no more hiding or making up excuses to cover for my depression, anxiety, PTSD. Here is how I saw others react to breaking my silence about being sexually abused as a child and raped by my ex husband.

1. Most People Were Kind

This was the biggest shocker I had while I was tearfully and fearfully spilling my guts on camera about past sexual abuse and how it was effecting me in my adult life now, years later. There was about a 2 week period of time before the roving trolls came around to point fingers and try to poke me. The outpouring of love and support left me speechless. I worked hard to voice my appreciation and not just sit there dumbfounded by feeling of love from caring people. I cried a lot of happy tears and cried a lot of tears reading what others shared with me about their own experiences.

2. Some Blamed Me

There were the typical “you asked for it” for which my response is “3 year olds and sleeping people ask to be raped?” Since the people who raped me also blamed me for what happened (which is typical of abusive people) and used very similar wording to basically treat me horribly. They were also way more upset that I had a wishlist then the fact that I was raped. I really can’t say that I was surprised by these people. It makes me wonder how many of those people that reacted by victim blaming respected boundaries. I don’t know those people and don’t want to know them. I blocked them and left a statement saying I wasn’t going to argue with them. Little rounds of trolls still come wandering by my blog, websites, or YouTube channel and try to poke at me to see if I’ll bite. I don’t. I block and move on. Life is too fucking short to listen to bullshit anymore. I don’t need to defend myself. I didn’t do anything wrong.

3. Some Were Inspired

This is the most positive things that has come out of breaking my silence. Other people have felt hope and encouragement from things that I have shared. They talked about mental illness and depression, anxiety, and other mental health topics that they hadn’t talked about before. When I spoke my truth and talked about what was going on with me, others realized that they did not have to carry their burden alone either.

Negatives:

People are jerks. We already knew this though because that’s the main reason that many survivors don’t ask for help or talk about their abuse at all. Typical bullshit grasping for anything in a desperate attempt to silence/blame the survivor(EPIC TROLL FAIL,HA!).

Positives:

I don’t feel like so much of an outsider now. I feel more determined to treat myself better. I have learned to not interact(as much) with negative people or trolls, just block and move on. I don’t shut up. I have more confidence to stand up for myself personally. I always stood up for myself on a professional level but now I feel like I can carry that through to my personal life. I take breaks from social media when I need too. I am on my own side now. I wasn’t for years but I am now. I’m healing. 🙂

I’ve worked very hard to amplify the positive people in my life. I write down what they say that really helped me to smile that day and hang it on my inspiration wall. This wall has printouts, post-its, cards, letter, ect from people who reached out to me and took the time to tell me that I matter and that they care. I look to this wall when I need a pick me up and when I don’t just because its just a great example of human kindness. I need a reminder that those people exist. Everyone really was helpful even though I couldn’t bring myself to accept the help they offered. Knowing that they were there made a huge difference.

So, that’s pretty much what has happened from me talking about the effects of childhood sexual abuse and partner rape has had on my life. I can’t say that if you tell someone or the world about sexual abuse you have suffered that the response will be the same but know that there are kind people in the world. There will be jerks no matter what you are doing, how you are doing, when you are doing, there always someone there to make the poo face and point out any perceived flaw. I tell myself remember those people are mostly projecting their own crap onto me. that’s really their own issues, and some people like to bitch and whine no matter what is happening(block them with the quickness, the sooner the better). It is my life and I decide how to live it, not them.