****EDIT****

First of all, I didn’t expect this many amazing responses. But, for those three women that called me the bad guy because I mentioned his new girlfriend’s multiple partners, you obviously don’t understand. That has absolutely NOTHING to do with the story as a whole. I don’t hold any animosity to women that have children with multiple partners. This is the 21st century. Sometimes things just don’t go according to plan. If you could even understand a fraction of the pain I went through to be where I am, you’d be ashamed of yourself for implying that I’m less of a person or I’m “jealous” because of that ONE sentence. I’m not a bad person. I’m doing anything and everything I can to give my daughter a better life and if you can read this and STILL call me a POS for saying “she has too many baby daddies”, I will gladly get myself banned telling you what you deserve to hear.

I’ve been dealing with real trauma-related incidents since I was four years old. I’ve been abused physically, emotionally, and sexually, by family and by strangers. I’ve been used as currency for drugs, I’ve also had a lifelong battle with addiction and suicide attempts. For the nine months I carried my daughter, I was unsure of whether she belonged to my ex (his name is Jeff) or my rapist (I left this part out because it’s clearly traumatic.. but..) There was a man we met on the Boulevard the night we ran out of money and he told us he could teach us how to survive. We stayed that night and when I woke up, I was told that Jeff and my “best friend” took my phone to charge it at a store/gas station nearby but when it started to get dark, I knew they weren’t coming back... It took me four days get out of where I was (Also, no, this wasn’t even the man that cut my arm... the incidents happened almost two weeks apart).

To this day, they don’t believe that I was kept against my will for four days. They kept telling me that if I wanted out, I just had to leave... it became too much for me. I started acting really recklessly. I met a group of strangers in a parking lot and we smoked some meth in some hotel laundry room while the sun came up and I did stuff like that CONSTANTLY. After my assault, I was convinced that I was going to die in a ditch at the hands of some creep and the worst part was, I had accepted that as my truth...

I’m sorry to share such personal information with you guys, I know it’s difficult to digest.

*original*

My daughter’s father and I met when I was 11, he was 14. I moved across the country the summer we met but we stayed friends until I was 18. When I finally moved back home, we got together, but we weren’t kids anymore. He was an active meth addict. He spent most of his time hiding it from me in attempts to “protect me” while I spent most of my time dwelling in the ignorant thought that he was clean... After a month or so, he got me hooked on these cough medicine pills because he told me it would make me “trip” like shrooms or LSD.

After seeing myself there on a drug induced “trip”, we left for Hollywood, CA on December 1, 2014. My ex had active warrants in the state we left and was extradited back to our home town on January 3, 2015. After the drugs wore off, I realized where I was, what I was doing, and most importantly, that I was alone. Luckily, I was blessed with two parents that would go to the end of the earth to save their irresponsible and self-destructive daughter so I came home.

I was actually cut by someone while in CA because he was attempting to scare me into leaving my then-fiancé to be with him. He told me he’d kill him first, then me, and he’d find me by my scar if I ever came back to CA.

ANOTHER EDIT: this man’s name was “Boxcar”. He was about 64 years old. My street crew introduced me to him on New Years <a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.glow.android.eve">Eve</a>, the day before he cut my arm. He was our “leader couple’s” best friend or something. He lured me in with LSD (true story) and he just kept telling me that he needed my help. He said people would give us more money if I were there and then he’d split it with me. He never did. He was so good at “grooming” that I didn’t even realize what was happening until it started to get dark and that I had been gone from Jeff for a full 24hours. I told him I was going back and that’s when Boxcar told me I had to leave Jeff. The only way he’d take me back to Hollywood is if I went and packed my stuff and left with him. When I got to Jeff, I quickly told him everything, and we were packing to jump town when Boxcar came to our “camp” with two guys... one of them (Epic) was our best friend. Epic started shoving Jeff around accusing him of selling me for drugs, he kept saying “tell me why I shouldn’t just kill you right now?” I just remember screaming “don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him.”

Boxcar walked up to me and he said “you need to leave with me now, or I’m gonna f***** kill him.” I just shook my head. ( I was so obviously sobbing) I told him I would rather he just killed me and let Jeff go. He grabbed my face and pulled me so close to him I can still smell his breath and he said “you’re too pretty to kill.” Then he made the second man grab me while he held out my arm and cut me open. He told me to pick Jeff up and get as far away from Hollywood as possible and if I ever came back, he’d kill me. I got some stitches and we left for the coast. That night Jeff and I got pulled over at like 4am for j-walking on an empty street and he got extradited...

I found out I was pregnant about a week after coming home (I had to get my stitches out) and my entire world stopped. I was on so many drugs before I left CA (daily meth, x, weed, coke, CCCs, liquid cough medicine, etc). I did any drug I could get my hands on just for the “experience”... I was lucky enough to not get truly “addicted” to anything I did. I don’t remember dope sickness (I had morning sickness anyways) or any other withdrawal symptom. The only thing I remember is throwing my cigarettes away in the doctor’s office and I didn’t pick them up again for 18 months.

(Edit) This is what I looked like when I first came home:

Anyways, my ex and I stayed in contact (yes while he was in jail) because I was an idiot grieving a nearly 10 year long relationship while trying to understand reality again and also being pregnant and getting over all the drugs, etc., etc. so... anyways.

He was in jail from Jan 2015- Sept 2015. I bailed him out for $1,000 three weeks before our daughter was born and after being sober for eight months, the first thing he did when he got out was scavenge a cigarette ash tray at the bar across the street from our house and I knew I was done. He lasted four days listening to me bitch him out about how much I didn’t want smoke around our daughter before he cut off his house arrest bracelet (my parents’ house, mind you. Where they’re responsible for his house arrest) and he hopped on a freight train to the next town over. (An actual train that carries coal to a town that was easily 30mins away by car).

He served his sentence and now he hates me. Which is fine, it really is. My daughter has an amazing father figure who has been around since she was nine months old and she has never met her bio father. Luckily, he wasn’t put on her birth certificate and, after a year, he started denying her. Now he’s happily in a relationship with someone we both went to elementary school with that has three-four kids of her own with all different fathers. I believe he’s clean (at least most of the time) and staying out of jail (also most of the time).

Our little family has lived a wonderful and happy 3.5 years without him, but every time I look at her, I see his face. I see him in her and it isn’t what you think... I don’t hate him the way I want to. I’m angry that we weren’t good enough. Somehow a drug riddled 22 year old with four kids and 3-4 “baby daddies” was good enough, but my daughter and I weren’t. It breaks my spirit. I constantly worry about when she gets older, what she’ll think of him. What she’ll think of me...

I get so caught up in his half of her, I never see my “half” of her. Everyone always tells me “oh she looks JUST like you.” I even tell them, “you should see her father.” (Father and daddy are way different in our family. My fiancé will never be her father but he’ll always be her daddy).

Anyways: this collage is why I made this post in the first place so if you’ve read this long, thank you...

(Me left, her right)

Let me tell you guys, when I first saw these side by side, I cried. My parents can’t even tell us apart! Haha. All I see in her is every sacrifice and every trial I’ve ever faced to get where I am and, looking at these, I feel validated. It’s so hard to explain but seeing the resemblance makes me feel like, by being the best mom to her I can be, that I’m giving myself a second chance.

I can be a good mom.

I can give my child a good life.

I can end the trauma cycle.

I WILL be the best I can be.

I WILL give my child everything I have.

I WILL end the trauma cycle.

💪🏻☮️❤️

This is our little family in October of 2018:

(I gained a little weight 😅 but at least I’m not a druggie anymore)