I feel empty; overwhelmed by thoughts and feelings; it feels impossible to move forward because I continue slipping back. Punishing myself for the past and present situations; believing it is and was because of me, but also knowing others played a part. Confusion and chaos churning inside eating away at me; slowly killing me. Stuck…

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse , physical abuse and verbal abuse . My memories are very clear , I sometimes wish they weren’t . I was verbally abused by my mother , I always remember her saying harsh words . I was fat , ugly , worthless . she told me I…

I am a survivor or childhood domestic violence, sexual abuse, and exploitation. I don’t have a clear memory of when the abuse started, but a lot of memories good or bad begin around 7 years old when my parents were divorced. My dad was a violent man, and my mom also fought back violently. Because of…

My mother, who had me at 17, was abandoned by my biological father before I was six months old.   When I was 2, my mother met my stepfather. She married him right away and she used to tell me that I couldn’t wait to be adopted by this man so that my last name would…

“Here I go.” I am generally a firmly closed book and keep things close to the chest, with lots of neatly filed boxes containing all of the events of my life.  Because sometimes that is just what you have to do to make it through… Once, I was a five-year-old, sassy, loud, fiercely independent, and questioning little girl…

Eight years ago I was on a slippery slope – a runaway train really. I was looking to fill the emptiness inside in any way possible: alcohol, relationships, denial. I was holding tightly to the rails – the rails being the bits of hope that had taken root in my heart from many Sunday school…

I am the youngest of five. My dad was a very hard worker. Not around much. He was intelligent and excellent at any job he tackled. He just didn’t apply that to parenting. The abuse he handed out to my older siblings was scary and I tried to never get him angry. That meant no…

My life story? It starts and ends with: self-hate. I’m so full of self-hate: everything about myself, everything I am. I’m the youngest of three children. My dad was a blue-collar worker who never got ahead. My mother was mentally ill and never worked. We weren’t poor, but we were free-lunch people living above our…

There are many things that I remember about my abuse. There are lots of things that I haven’t allowed myself to recall.  I guess I can say that my mind is doing me a favor. I know there was a sudden change in my demeanor around the time that my abused commenced. I went from…

  I am terrified to share this, but the voice telling me to write is no longer at all hushed. It’s screaming. It feels like it’s knocking on the side of my brain. There are these parts of me yearning to be heard. They want their stories to join with all the other children’s stories…

I am terrified to put this post on paper. Though it’s been in my head and on my heart for quite some time, I never really knew if I’d get around to writing it.  And so I write it, kicking and screaming…knowing it needs to be written but not wanting to be the one to…