The night before my abuser killed himself I couldn’t sleep, it was weird – no matter how much I tried I just couldn’t settle so I ended up writing this:

It’s easier to explain how I feel in writing than out loud. Saying it makes it real.

No one is to blame for how I feel, no one knew so no one could have done anything to help. I didn’t go to the police so that other people could hold themselves accountable there is only one person who is accountable and that is him. He will probably never think that the things he did to me were wrong. But that isn’t the worst part, the worst part is that it will never stop, not really. Every incident replays in my mind, forcing me to relive every moment. Seconds I wish to forget but I will never be able to.

He has made it hard for me to trust, how can I trust people when one of the people I was supposed to be able to trust the most took the innocence of my childhood away making me grow up too fast.

At times I don’t think about it, at times its as if I’ve lived a normal life – and then it hits me. All of it comes flooding back. I’ve tried to forget it, but what will forgetting it really do? I can’t remember from before it started, it’s always been apart of me – there hasn’t been an escape, just a journey. A journey of acceptance, accepting who I was, who I am and who I have become. I don’t like to think of myself as a victim or a survivor, neither of those words fit.

When I think about it – I feel dirty, I feel angry, upset, confused and alone. None of those feelings are my fault yet I have to live with them.

I know I’m not alone.

I’m lucky because I’m not physically going through it anymore. But mentally I am.

The only difference now is I have people to help me on my bad days, who show me and have taught me that I am not alone.

It takes time to learn to live with it. But I am getting there. I’m learning. Every day is a new lesson.

– Stacey xo

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