The Journey Begins

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Thanks for joining me!

This blog will tell my story and my journey through recovery. I was abused my entire life and kept it quiet from everyone around me. At first I was in denial about what was happening then I was scared about what would happen if people found out. Finally I was ashamed of what I allowed to happen to me. Even after I escaped I still didn’t speak up because of the shame for 7 years. What I didn’t realize was that by keeping quiet my father still held power over me. Through this blog that will now change. I am FINALLY SPEAKING OUT and telling my story. I will no longer be ashamed of my story because it has made who I am. I’m finally realizing that I am a lot stronger than I thought I was and who I am is a survivor. I am a Domestic Violence Survivor and this is my journey.

A new post will be added every Monday as I tell my story and go through my journey. If you are reading this blog and are on your own journey please know you are not alone and if you need support or someone safe to talk to please reach out and know there is never any judgement. Thank you all for your love and support.

 

Numb

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So this weeks blog post is different from weeks prior. This is not my story, this is the story of someone who wanted to share their story but wanted to remain anonymous. I’m sharing her story and supporting her in her journey of healing. 

 

It’s a feeling I wouldn’t wish on anyone. A feeling of complete helplessness. Leaving you dripping in shame, and heavy with feelings of deeply violation. The only way to explain it is like an out-of-body experience. One where you are being forced to watch yourself from a distance while your body is a rag doll being used for someone else’s pleasure.
You lay there numb, slightly unaware and fearful to resist as you know it will only cause more pain. So instead, you endure what seems like an eternity. Once it’s finally over the only thing you know to do is to quickly fall back asleep, as tears quietly stream down your face. How could this be happening? I thought he loved me? I didn’t do anything to deserve this. Did I?
I was stuck in a horrible nightmare, with a constant loop of using sleep as my reset button. Never bringing what yesterday held into today. “Start each day with a smile.”, they said. So that’s exactly what I did. Learning to force myself to black it out and forget became the only coping mechanism that actually worked  anymore.
I hid my nightmares deep inside, while outwardly expressing a facade of positivity and confidence, so people wouldn’t change there opinion of me for something I felt was not in my control. I was the silent victim in a broken home I had chosen to be in.
As day turned to night I never knew what kind of a day it was going to be, good or bad, until it was completely over. The worst nights where those nights I thought were going to be ok, only to be woken up by a very drunk man groping me not willing to take no for an answer. Those nights were the hardest to just relax.. especially with stitches still lining the entrance of my vigina from a surgery only a short time before.
After nearly a year of feeling stuck in my story, something changed. I changed. And I finally wanted change.
With trembling hands and a shaky voice, I gathered all of my strength and finally told him to “Get out.” You see, this was my apartment he had come into. My name was on the lease and I used that to help support my decision. I had gone through yet another surgery, again in the same place, but this time I wanted a different environment for my 3 month recovery period. It wasn’t that I wanted to move out myself, but that I needed a more positive and clean space to allow myself the ability to heal. My fear was that this was going to keep happening to my body if I didn’t change anything.
Something I read online said that we carry our shame and sexual trauma in our vagina. They alluded to the fact that my reoccurring issue could be tied to my sexual abuse, not just for physical reasons but also as the manifestation of the mental trauma I was harboring from it. “Stress is a killer.”, I read. So I did what I had to in hopes of reducing my stress levels and starting the process of healing, from the inside out.
It was about 4 weeks after I forced him to leave when I got a call from him late one night where he was sobbing telling me he had no reason left to live and was staring down the barrel of his .45 cal handgun. Then the phone went silent….. I had a gut feeling that if I didn’t do something then the next sound I was going to hear was a gun shot. So I began to beg him not to do it and asked him to come over so I could see him.
The moment he hung up the phone I called a girlfriend whose father was a head of the Sheriff’s department. Still to this day I don’t quite know how she was able to get to me in a matter of 12 minutes from being nearly 45 minutes away. With her came he father and 8 sheriffs in undercover cars telling me, once I had him inside to answer my phone when called to verify (in code) that he was there and I was still ok. I kept him in the apartment as long as I could block the door with my body, knowing they may not yet be at the door. Then I finally opened it and stepped out to a shotgun in my chest and 8 other officers pointing their guns right at me. I froze. Then one of them grabbed my arm and threw me to the ground, while the rest charged in to tackle him. They cuffed him, took him away and put him in a squad unit. Then began to search my apartment and his car for any signs of a weapon. The fear was that he was going to harm me with the mindset “If I can’t have you, then no one can”.
I left my apartment that night and stayed in another city with my girlfriend, only to be informed they had released him from their custody, only a few hours later the following morning. Out of fear I stayed with her for weeks on end, only going home for new clothes. I was never comfortable in that apartment again and would do anything to sleep somewhere else for a night.
Eventually, about a year or so later I let that place go and have never looked back.
6 years later and I still fear crossing paths with him to this day. I moved over 2 cities, live in a gated community and drive a different vehicle. Yet, I still freeze and have a small panic attack when I see someone driving his old car on the road or pass by someone who resembles him. I fear this will never go away. Part of me wants to look him up to see if he is still in the area, part of me wonders if he is dead, but the majority of me is too scared to even speak his name let alone actually look him up. But for now I will just continue not knowing, and that may be for the better.
Sometimes I let that fear hold me back from doing things that will help me grow my online presence. I am always worried there will be a higher chance of him running across my content and locating me. I’m worried if I end up with something he wants, he may try to come take it from me. Or worse look at the life I have now and try to take my life out of jealousy.
I know these fears probably seem unrealistic or impractical to you, especially as I am writing them now. But if you have ever gone through long term abuse from a partner or loved one then you will agree, there is nothing rational about any of it. Your mind is simply focused on protecting you from this threat at all cost. Even if that cost is the promise of a successful dream career on a public platform.
Some days the pain of the past comes back in what is sometimes only a phantom pain. It’s an odd aching pain that comes and goes when I experience a mental or physical trigger that floods my mind with these old nightmares. It stems from the lips of my vagina and then begins to make the entire opening throb, but not in a pleasurable way. The throbbing is excruciating and can pass quickly or last for up to an hour. It makes sitting difficult and I quickly become irritable. When this happens I immediately want my space, I can’t stand being touched by anyone and sex is the last thing I want to even talk about, let alone take part in.
My current partner is simply amazing and I can’t give him enough credit. He is 1000x the man my abuser was. He does everything in his power to not only make sure I am safe, but also that I feel safe. He works with me on what things cause me pain and what gives me pleasure. He has studied every inch of my body and it’s many reactions to things that I almost feel like he knows me better then I do at this point. He comforts me when I need it, reminds me of who I have become and the strength that I now have. He builds me up and encourages me to chase my dreams and to see myself as he sees me. Not the victim, but the survivor.
Now I am not saying that my partner has “saved me” by any means. In fact, I am still currently in the process of saving myself.  My hope is by finally getting this weight off my chest, be it in an anonymous or public way, will help me face my demons. Only I can stand up to this nightmare, forgive it and thank it for the lessons it has taught me. Only I can express pure gratitude for making me a stronger woman and yet, tell it that it no longer serves me. It’s again, time for a change. It’s time I move on from this and allow my life to define new terms for itself. I am a strong, powerful woman who deserves to feel worthy, safe, sexy, and completely whole again.
So ******,
I need you to know I fully forgive you, with every ounce of my being. I have realized I wouldn’t be half the woman I am today without your part in the story, but that’s where it ends. I am ending this relationship and taking back my life again.
With love,
*****

Invisible Scars

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The bruises heal and the marks fade, but the scars on your soul will linger for years. If you have a broken arm everyone sees it and knows to be gentle with you but what about if you have a broken heart? No one can see the scars left behind by years of abuse, no one will understand why they need to be gentle with you and how their actions can hurt worse than if there wasn’t any invisible scars.

By finally sharing my story with someone that meant I was sharing my scars with them too. As my partner in life and by knowing my story he was now responsible for my past. Meaning by knowing my triggers it was his responsiblity to respect them. The first year was eye opeining for both of us as we learned how to deal with them and how to react to them.  I would startle easily, would hate to be pinned down or backed up to anything. I couldn’t handle being yelled at or cursed at. My biggest trigger of all was I couldn’t be touched if I didn’t expect it. I used to be so annoyed with myself and my reactions because logically I knew that my boyfriend was not my father and that I was safe. As the years went on my triggers slowly faded and I began to heal.

I went years with thinking I was ok, that I had healed myself and that I didn’t need any help. Because the physical reactions had faded. I was no longer easily startled and no longer afraid of being trapped. What I hadn’t realized was that all those emotional triggers were still there and still affecting my life. I just assumed that this was as good as my healing would get.

Years later after I finally started therapy I started to understand that I get triggered in my day to day and even in my relationship and that the “overreaction” to situations isnt my fault. I have learned to be patient with myself and not fustrated that I have things in my life that will trigger me. I have also learned how to recognize when I am being triggered and to communicate with my partner what is happening. Even though sometimes I can’t help my reaction, just knowing why I am reacting helps. No matter how healed I get sometimes for no reason at all and without any warning I’ll be triggred and it will be like i’m that scared little girl all over again. I don’t think I’ll ever know why sometimes when my boyfriend reaches for me in the middle of the night it’s completely fine and other nights it makes my stomach turn. But what I do know is that it is not my fault and I deserve better. Allow your self the right to react and be patient with yourself because you didn’t choose what happened to you.

As always thank you for the love and support

Facing Fears

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Since posting this blog for everyone to see I have gotten an overwhelming amount of support and praise. I have however also gotten the question “why didn’t I just leave”? In simple I didn’t leave because I didn’t think that was an option. The amount of strength it takes to turn your back on everything you know and everything you have been raised since birth to believe is overwhelming and to put it simply I didn’t believe I had it in me.  In truth most of my moments of strength have been less about my strength to move forward and more about leaps of faith. I still remember more than 6 years ago my first real leap. Packing up my life of 20 years and moving out in the matter of 2 hours.

It all started valentines day 2012 when I sat across the table from a man who was slowly making me believe that love was real and not just something that only existed in fairy tales. He looked me in the eyes and asked “So your being abused aren’t you?”.  I remember being shook to my core. I had never uttered the words aloud to anyone not even myself. Later that night we stayed up late as I told him everything about the “rough housing”, cuddling, the naps, and even the photos I was forced to take. I expected him to be repulsed by what I had done, to end it there and walk away. To my surprise he did none of those things instead with tears in his eyes he held me and told me he cared for me enough to never have to worry about whether I was safe when I was home. The next thing I knew him and his best friend were in my childhood room packing me up and moving me out. It wasn’t my strength that got me out of that situation it was a leap of faith.

Months after I had moved out I met my father for lunch I came prepared with a well rehearsed speech. I was going to tell him why I moved out and how everything he put me through as a child was unacceptable. I was also going to tell him how I will never forgive him for making me pose for those photos and how much it hurt me that he put me through all of this. But when the time came for me to say all of this I couldn’t find the words. I stared across the table at the man who was supposed to be my protector in life too scared to speak. I listened as he lectured me about how much I had hurt my mother by leaving and how much of a disappointment I was.  As the end of the lunch neared I knew I didn’t have a lot of time left and there was so much I needed to say. With my boyfriends words of encouragement in my head the words I had practiced saying a thousand times came out in a tangled mess. I felt so proud of myself for finally confronting my father and calling him out for making me pose for him and everything else he had made me do. I thought for sure there was nothing my dad could say to defend himself and surely he would apologize for everything. But what came next I had no way of preparing for, my father looked me straight in the eyes and stated that he only took those photos to help me. He stated that he was my father and of course he didn’t find enjoyment out of them but he only did it because I wanted it. I left that lunch dazed and sick to my stomach with thoughts of self-doubt circling around in my head. What had I done to make him think I wanted it? Did I want it? Why would he say that?

It wasn’t till years later that I accepted the truth. There is not a god damn thing I did to deserve what happened to me. I did nothing to make that man think it was ok to make me pose naked for him. Lastly no father on this earth who could claim that they were only helping their 12-year-old daughter when asking her to pose like the pictures in playboy. The truth is no abuser is going to admit that they were wrong or take responsibility for their actions. That the closure I thought I was going to get when he apologized for what he did will never come. That doesn’t mean I will never get closure that just means it will look differently than what I once thought it would look like.

Closure for me now is forgiving myself. I will never forgive my father nor will he ever apologize for what he put me through but I can forgive myself. I can remind myself that I was a child and I did what I had to, to survive. I can no longer hold those actions against myself and instead put the blame on the person it should have always been on, my father. Lastly I can stop holding on to this secret because in the end the only person it protects is him.

As always thank you for all your love and support.

The Breaking Point

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As with many victims of abuse I too had a breaking point.  A point where I could no longer deny that what I had put up with my whole life wasn’t supposed to happen, a point where I knew not only was I being abused but that I needed to leave.

Wether I consciously acknowledged the fact that I was abused or not I truly believe my subconscious knew.  I say this because as I reflect on my past it’s so obvious to me that I tried to escape at every given opportunity.  Which lead me to being engaged to a boy who was all wrong for me at the age of 18. But looking back it makes sense because he was a way out of my life. He was in the military and marrying him meant moving far away from my family.  However it wasn’t long after the engagement that he showed his true colors.  He had cheated on me and my ticket out came to a crashing halt as we called off the engagement. That left me more broken than I care to admit, My self-esteem was nonexistent and I felt isolated and alone.

It’s important to know the events leading up to my breaking point because then hopefully you will understand how completely broken I already was and how easy it was for my father to manipulate me.  I was 19 years old living at home going to community college because I was told by my father to not even bother applying to universities because I wouldn’t be able to get in (I graduate with a 3.75 GPA and the president of multiple clubs and groups at school) and I believed him. My family wasn’t speaking to me and had shunned me because I had gotten engaged in secret and my fiancée had cheated on me.  This was the lowest point in my life and I was craving to be loved.

It was about a month of silence when one day my father came into my room and asked me if I wanted to go to the hangar with him to hangout. I can not explain to you the happiness I felt to be no longer ignored I immediately said yes. When we got to his hanger he cracked open two beers and handed me one. First off I was shocked because this had never happened before and second I absolutely hated beer, but I took it with almost glee that my father was spending time with me. After the beers were done he asked me if I would help him with something , I of course all too willing agreed immediately without asking questions. He stated that the hangers were creating a calendar and he asked if I would pose on the plane for him.  He later stated it was a pin-up calendar and that I needed to be wearing less. After he was done he told me “I’m your father don’t feel weird about this, I’ll always protect you.” He also told me not to tell my step-mom because “she just wouldn’t understand.” This continued for about a month straight each time it getting worse and worse him getting more brave and me getting more broken. He did things no father should ever do to their daughter.  Things that are unforgivable.

I was terrified. Plain and simple I was terrified for this to continue and for how much worse it could get. But I was also terrified of what would happen if I stopped it, my making my father happy I had gotten my family back. They were talking to me again, we had dinners, and we were even planning a family vacation and I was afraid to be isolated again.

So I started avoiding the house. I worked extra shifts, spent a lot of time with my friends, and stayed at the library late studying. When all those attempts to avoid having to go back to the hanger didn’t work I decided to gain weight. I went from a size 4 to an 8 in a matter of months I gained as much weight as I could and it worked he stopped asking me to the hanger but became very strict on my diet and constantly saying how I had let myself go. But I didn’t care I was free. We never talked about what had happened at the hanger we both continued on like it never happened.

I tried to move out and get an apartment with a girlfriend but it was really hard for me. I had lived my whole being told that I would fail on my own, that I could only succeed with my family. When you’re constantly told you’re not good enough you start to believe it. Another way my father controlled me was through money, he had me pay him almost my entire paycheck every month. Even with me working two jobs I would only have a few dollars in my bank account at a time. It wasn’t till about a year and half later I had enough courage to move out.

I can’t express to you the shame and guilt I carried with me for so many years. I blamed myself, I would ask myself how could I let that happen. Why was I willing to do that! I was an adult, why didn’t I just leave. Isn’t it funny how we always ask the victims why they don’t leave? Well I will tell you, because when you are going through abuse you are made to feel like you have no power, no self-esteem, and no other option but to endure it. We don’t leave because we don’t think we can. It wasn’t till many years later when I started seeing a therapist that I have shifted the shame, anger, and guilt from me to where is belonged all along. To my father. I have accepted that I did what I had to, that the fact that I hid it from everyone and continued to live my life was a strength. I also have forgiven myself, you are not an adult at 19 you are still very much a child who wants to believe that her parents will protect her.

My journey has been a long one and to say that it’s easy to get where I am now in my recovery would be a lie. It’s long and hard with a lot of set backs and self-doubt but in the end it’s always worth it.  This has by far been my hardest post because I have held this secret from a lot of people till right now.  Part of my journey is no longer carrying the burden of my secrets. As always thank you all for your love and support through my journey.

The beginning

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When your abuser is your father it can sometimes be difficult to understand what is normal and what isn’t because it is all you ever know. I remember the first time I realized what was happening to me wasn’t normal. I was about 12 years old still young enough to be impressionable and believe that my father wanted best for me but old enough to comprehend that what was happening wasn’t right.  All my life (from my youngest memory to when I left at the age of 20) I was forced to take naps with my father, give him massages, “rough house” with him that would leave me badly bruised and so much more which at the time I never thought anything of it because it’s all I ever knew.

When I was 12 all that changed. I was in the car with my dad and little sister and I had made an innocent bet with my dad where if I won he would buy me a cat. When I won however he said that it didn’t count because I didn’t offer him anything. When I asked what he wanted he said that he wanted to take pictures of me. Me wanting to be the “good daughter” I of course said yes. As we pulled into the driveway he laughed it off but when a couple of hours later my  little sister and mom went to the grocery store he came into my room and said he wanted to take the pictures.  I of course not wanting to say no to my father again said “sure”.  He then took me to his bathroom and pulled out his playboy and told me to pose like the girls in the magazine. He told me to take off my clothes as he pulled out his camera and started taking photos. I remember my body going through the motions but my mind being numb almost like I was watching it happen to someone else all the while my father reassuring me he loved me.  I was so shocked by what was happening that I wasn’t able to process  it and that memory became a repressed memory that I had locked away to protect myself. My mind couldn’t process that the man who asked me to pose for him, made me take naps and be his little spoon was the same man who took me flying and out for milkshakes. I was groomed my whole life to never say no to him, making him happy was all I ever wanted.  It was about a year after I left home as I laid down to go to sleep next to my boyfriend that this memory came flooding back.  I now remember that moment so vividly and I get so angry at the man for taking advantage of his daughter who was still so innocent and wanted nothing more to please her father.  He had all the power in the relationship and he chose to misuse his power. As time goes on I have realized I am not to blame for what has happened to me.  I used to carry such shame about what I did.  I used to think I did this, I said yes, I should have know better.  But what I have come to realize is that it had absolutely nothing to do with me. Now instead of shame I am proud.  I am proud of the strength that I had to create a beautiful life beyond the abuse. I am proud of the 12-year-old version of me who did what she had to do to survive. Who experienced that and went to school the next day with a smile on her face and played with her friends.

I am definitely far from being healed and not having the abuse affect me in my day-to-day life but I have definitely come a long way and I have finally shifted the blame from me to where it should have been all along, on him.

As always thank you for the love and support as I share my journey.

Hidden in plain sight

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The funny thing about life is no one really knows what is happening in someone else’s life. It might sound corny but you really can’t know what happens behind closed doors. Take me for example if you were to ask any of my friends or family if I was abused they would say there is no chance. I’m the happiest person they know, the friendliest, the most kind. Like all of those things means that I couldn’t possibly have gone through abuse. My favorite is when I finally do open up to someone and discuss my past they say “but you’re so normal” like because I have kept my shit together means that what I went through couldn’t have been that bad. That was something I myself struggled with for a very long time. That me being strong enough to continue to push through and maintain a life of normalcy didn’t diminish what I went through. I was lucky, its honestly that simple my mind protected me. My mind split the two versions of myself and walled them off. There was the girl who went home and was abused and made to pose for photos (we will get to that later) and the girl who went to school, hung out with friends and was carefree. That is how I was able to be normal, that is how I was able to keep my spirit because to me those were two very different girls and they never blurred together. As an adult it’s still a struggle I have to take that wall down between those two girls. But hey that’s whats my therapist is for!

I want to say that I know I was lucky, that my mind saved me. I want to say that because my whole purpose of doing this blog is to empower others and to regain my strength. I hid behind my smile for so long and was so ashamed of my story that it became this deep dark secret that held so much weight. I have started to heal and to forgive myself and with that I want to share my story to lessen the burden and realize that my past may not define me but is a part of me. I have decided to be proud of my strength and my resilience instead of hide it. If by sharing my story I can help someone else realize they are not alone and offer some kind encouragement to speak up and ask for help then this would have all been worth it. I also want to say if I have decided to share my blog with my friends and family and you are reading this please know that you weren’t supposed to have known and there was nothing you could have done. I hid this my entire life and from everyone even myself and as always thank you for your love and support.