This will probably be one of the most real and raw blog post I will ever write, Please be gentle with me.

Honestly I am sitting here staring at my computer screen typing opening sentence and erasing them all several times. There is just not an easy way to say:

I am a survivor of abuse. Physiological, sexual and physical.

I had a magical childhood, wonderful parents who essentially let me do anything and try everything I wanted. I have a loving family. I have the same best friends since I was in elementary school. It was something that did not happen while I was young but later in my adolescents.

I then turned 15 years old and met my first boyfriend...My first abuser.

I do not know that even to this day he realizes the implications his actions have had on my life. I do not know if he even realizes what he was doing to me or that is was abuse. I do not know if he would even admit what he did. All I know is that it happened. It was my introduction to the world of love and sex. What a way to be introduced to this. He trained my mind to believe my worth was solely based on what my body could give to a man. My mind and emotions did not matter, my body did and the pleasure he sought from it. I called this love. I did not consider him an abuser until he shoved me to the ground the last week we spent together. I became his sexual robot, I was trained to believe that because I was his girlfriend and if he loved me then I would do as I was told. He degraded me, laughed at me while I cried, made sure I felt like everyone around me was against me except him.

I was alone in my trauma, I was damaged. I did not have support because I choose not to say anything because I feared my abuser even after I left.

This is when I began numbing my internal pain. It was normal for my friends and I to party in highschool but my life began to revolve around when I was going to get my next drink or bottle or case. I began dating someone with the hook ups to get me those things when I wanted. Then it became about how much I could drink. How many things I would do that others wouldn't. My identity was taking form with alcohol and abuse.

I was in a happy and mostly healthy relationship for 5 years until I turned 21.

My next abuser was a man I met through friends one night out at a bar. We flirted and danced. We had a great time. After consuming way to much alcohol to make appropriate decisions we left with the group and bought condoms. We went back to my friends house and drank more. I do not remember consenting, I do not remember taking my clothes off and I do not remember how I got onto the floor in my friends spare bedroom. I woke up naked with a man on top of me with his phone in his hand. Then I remember waking up on the floor naked and alone. I felt violated, scared and used. I didn't know if he used protection or took photos of me. I knew it was my fault. If I just did not drink that much, if I just didn't buy those condoms. Obviously I was being to forward. Maybe it was what I was wearing or how I was dancing?

When I turned 22 I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. I spent a little while sober and  abstinent after this.

I then found myself single and sharing custody having free time to do things I "wanted". I began fighting depression and anxiety. I did not know how to properly cope so I began doing the only things I knew how to do. Drinking and having sex.

I began getting involved with a very dangerous lifestyle. BDSM. It is not glamorous and romantic like 50 Shades of Grey. It is dark and consuming. I was spiraling down a hole. Most of the times I engaged in sexual experiences I wasn't sober. My body had be violate, used and mistreated. Some experiences weren't bad. But some were horrifying and to this day I shutter at the thought. Even though "safe words" are a thing, you don't use them in this world, I feared to use them. So I had engaged in experiences I did not necessarily want. This was a form of violation and abuse.

Through the mist of all this I met a very charming, caring and handsome man. My last abuser. He was almost too charming. I should have seen the signs from the beginning. How couldn't I have? This has happened to me before, but I choose to ignore them. He was amazing at first. He bought me flowers, made me dinner, he got along with my daughter, always picked me up and called/texted. Then after awhile it all stopped. He found about my past fetish lifestyle. He began making remakes about how "disgusting" I was and how I didn't love my daughter if I did that. He stated "You know anyone else you told would have left you, thank God for me." He convinced me everyone was against me and him. I pushed my family away and best friends. All my free time was his time. I drove to him, bought him things and did as he asked. I was walking on broken glass. I was just waiting for him to be angry with me. He began to hit and slap me, of course he was "just playing around".  Then forcing me to engage in sexual activities without my consent. My family and friends saw my change, and I defended him. I defended us. I made plans to move in with him and his family. Thankfully after he told me my daughters father couldn't be apart of her life because "It makes me uncomfortable" I knew it was time to get out. He began harassing me. Showing up places he knew Id be at unannounced. He would call and text all the time. Finally when I blocked him he would call my work number. He moved and I have not heard or seen him in about a month and a half.

The thing about abuse is you can leave the abuser but the scars stay. The internal soul wrenching scars.

I have a fear that is fast and unpredictable. It come is waves with huge panic attacks and tears. It hits me in my chest taking my breath away when I least expect it. I am learning I have triggers. Like silver Toyota corollas, certain grocery stores, restaurants, talking about certain things etc. The list goes on.

I am 25 now. The momma of my one and only miss Jungle Jane. I have survived the abuse, but I have not healed. I for a long time believed that there was no healing and I was just going to remain damaged. I was laying in bed one night staring at my daughter sleeping next to me and I became overwhelmed with emotions. I thought of these traumas happening to my daughter, it was crushing. My immediate thought was how I could help her if that ever could happen and how I could teach her about real love and the real truth about sex. But how was I to do those things when I did not seek help for myself? How could I teach her to understand love, sex and relationships if I did not truly understand them myself?

That night after I laid her in her own bed I emailed a therapist and sought out my first session to heal. She gave me the courage to heal, to begin the process of reliving the trauma and to be the mom and women I have the potential to be.

I go to weekly therapy sessions now. I have learned healthier coping skills. Joined a gym with my best friend. I am also abstinent now. I want to share my story so others know that it is never to late or to early to start healing. Help is out there. I am here for you. I know what you are going through. And you are not damaged love. I am no where near recovery in my healing process but I do know that I am learning about myself, I am learning I am not damaged  and I know now that I AM A SURVIVOR.