06/18/2026
When I came forward that my mom had been sexually abusing me since I was 2 years old, no one believed me.
She abused me from age 2-18 years old. My mother was r@ped as a teenager, and then she grew up and chose to become a child sexual abuser and surround herself with other child sexual abusers. She must’ve thought, “If you can’t beat them, join them.” At first, I was gaslight into believing I was just rebellious. I believed everyone got their boundaries violated like I did. Someone had to take the blame: it was me. It was my fault for being a wh*re at 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 years old. For being too beautiful to look at. For having a developed chest, and for being “jail bait.” I’ve been told so many times that my mom couldn’t have r@ped me, because she doesn’t have a male private part! I’ve been told, I probably enjoyed it… and that’s not even close to half of it. I was raised by an entire club of child mol3sters, who to this DAY, still make excuses for their insane behaviors and structured “morality.” The truth is: I should’ve said something sooner. I wish I had spoken up, but instead I developed multiple illnesses that forced me to confront the painful truth of my past. I used to feel shame, but I don’t anymore. It all began to fall apart after my brother’s best friend (an adult) r@ped me in my sleep, on my couch, in my house, when I was just 16 years old - and everyone blamed me for that too. I realized that even outsiders could r**e me with immunity. It wasn’t until age 23, when my therapist began sobbing for me, that I realized I was right. I was right for feeling disdain and angry. I was right for feeling violated. I WAS being violated.
I talked about the forced showers with my mother at 15 years old, I talked about the naked massages I was asked to give my mother. And my therapist’s tears, poured like rain. It didn’t change the barrage of night terrors, the seizures, or the CPTSD. But the more I spoke… the less heavy the chains around my throat felt. The more I admitted my pain, the less pain I felt. I realized that it’s not how you start your story, but how you finish it; and how you face the challenges on the way. I feel comfortable in knowing where I came from and now, where I am headed. It took more than 15 years of cognitive behavioral therapy to overcome religious, sexual, physical, emotional, and verbal abuse but everyday, I am healed more than the last. As if by magic or divine intervention, I did not end up an alcoholic, addict, or on a bridge alone with my conscience stream of disturbed thoughts. Not only this, but I have been favored by an incredible human being I call my life partner, and our two endearing children, who will NEVER know what it is like to be human trafficked. R@ped, Beaten, Kidnapped, Mol3sted, Starved, Choked Out, Bullied. TO: Thriving, Loved, Healed, Helped, Cared for, Adored, Cherished, and Laughing. My life is beautiful and wonderful. It’s full of cats, a dog, reptiles, adventures, friends, chosen family, and levity. It’s courage that I wish to share, with all who read this message. IT CAN, AND DOES GET BETTER! Your past is not your death sentence. Your life circumstances are not who you are. Circumstances can change. You will always have the chance to die, but not always the opportunity to live. So find something to live for today, while you still have the ability to try.
You can help a child protect themselves from abusers, by gifting them a FREE Tell Somebody book! 📚 gofundme.com/GiveAFreeBook
Child abusers, please stop and seek therapy and God.
Parents, talk with and believe your children. ❤️
Survivors, seek therapy. 💪🏽
(To share your story of abuse, message me)
www.TellSomebodyToday.com
