When the FOG clears…

 I was listening to one of my podcasts on narcissist abuse and they were focusing on emotional abuse and brought up a term they called FOG. In all my research I honestly hadn’t heard that term before. I immediately started doing research and I don’t know why I didn’t research this sooner. I guess because I’ve been so focused on the traits of an abuser that I haven’t focused on the traits we internalize as victims and survivors. This post is about what I found on FOG, what it means and how we can become victorious in dealing with it. Emotional and mental abuse is probably one of the hardest to see the effects from. For years I know I convinced myself the ‘scars’ were just my own thoughts and truths, not the result of abuse. 

Unfortunately, I totally spaced where I found this article and who wrote it. I’m going to go back and dig and will update this with the source info once I find it. These are not my words but I stand by what’s said and honestly couldn’t have said it better myself or made it any clearer than this article did. Thanks for reading and learning with me! 

Fear, Obligation, and Guilt (FOG) are the triad of emotional abuse. These three feelings can cause an overwhelming amount of self-doubt, anxiety, and unhappiness. Survivors are taught to believe that nothing they do is good enough, that they are inherently bad, and that standing up for yourself will be met with hostility. FOG tears down healthy boundaries and undermines your self-worth. It also lands you in situations where you're constantly having to do stuff you don't want to do, taking on an unfair burden of the emotional issues of others.

The first step toward breaking free of this is to notice what's happening. When we're "in the FOG", we're incapable of seeing the people-pleasing and avoidant behaviors that comprise it. When you stand up for yourself, you may feel afraid of retaliation or dismissal. You may feel guilty, because some part of you believes the feelings of others are more important than your own. You may feel obligated to remain in a dynamic that doesn't suit you, because this person was nice to you at one point or is a prominent family member. 

Behind all of these self-doubts is usually the underlying belief that you do not matter. That your needs and feelings aren't real. That you are bad or evil for noticing something you don't like. When we see all this happening, it's sort of horrifying at first. But with time and non-judgmental mindfulness, we can start to make a change. We see that we are deeply struggling, and that no human being is meant to live this way.

We're able to start offering ourselves love and kindness, even when feelings of fear or guilt come up. Instead of internalizing those negative feelings or getting mad at ourselves, we just say "Ah, interesting. Guilt again! Why is that?" - In your head, you may hear the harsh analytical response of "You feel guilty because you're wrong!" Instead of entertaining that voice, we just say "Ah, interesting. Self-doubt again!" Because I can assure you with 100% certainty that this voice is not the truth. This is the voice of old lies that sit around your heart, guarding you from the love inside.

The more you watch these voices, the more you will notice these are literally the voices from your abuser. Your feelings are bad. You're wrong. You're crazy. You're needy, jealous, insane. You're 100% replaceable. Everyone else is better than you. These old beliefs are wrapped tight around your heart, and they do not belong there.

The more we meet these feelings with kindness and patience, the more they naturally start to subside. Paradoxically, hating or judging them only worsens them. So do not be discouraged when these things pop back up after months of hard work. Just keep up your practice each time, every day strengthening the way you relate to yourself and your thoughts. Eventually, this loving / self-compassionate side of you will become stronger than those old voices. You start to notice what's going on and smile, refusing to give into these old mind tricks. With time, enforcing a boundary will bring up feelings of pride, rather than guilt.

We start to understand the truth that we are deserving only of love and joy. Anything else that passes through is just noise, and starts being banished faster and faster. FOG blocks us from the truth, but the moment we start to notice it, that is our ticket home. 

I’m Just CrAzY for You!

The world has only barely started trying harder to understand those of us with mental illnesses. Before, even as a young kid with ADHD, I felt like the whole world was calling me crazy. My family treated me differently because of it and it only got worse as I got older. I think maybe my biggest mistake was telling my narcissist my feelings about this. He knew how I felt in my classes, in my friend group, and in my Family. I told him how hard it was growing up with taking meds and being treated different because of my mental health struggles. Many of these struggles which he knew was from my childhood abuse.  

It’s weird how your brain protects you. It’s weird how your brain tries to destroy you. It’s weird how your brain can betray you. 

My brain likes to forget things. It’s called traumatic memory loss or something like that. I’ll do more research later. Basically, I don’t remember certain things and for some reason I remember others. Even if the things I remember are the bad things and I end up forgetting the good. Yet, even with the things I remember, I don’t seem to remember it right. So when I’m told that something didn’t happen the way I remember it, I often believe it. Which is why I was so easy to control. 

The engagement and all that followed is a mess of a story I can’t even begin to dissect right now. It was awful and wonderful and magical and tragic. No one seemed to be happy for us but it didn’t matter cause we were, I guess. It was a real Romeo and Juliet romance. Except this story ended in being disowned and homeless instead of dead. Well it didn’t END there for us obvious, but you know what I mean. 

At one point I’d broken off the engagement after he’d moved to a different state for awhile. Being away from him I was forced to spend more time with my family. Which ended up causing me to see some of the flaws I had refused to see before. He didn’t take it well. In fact he drove back immediately, showing up at my front door in a truly romantic fashion. It was in no way a red flag or sign of insanity or control. Right? He drove all that way just for me! I can’t believe my family convinced me not to love him! They don’t understand!

When we finally got married and moved into our apartment things felt good. I truly believed he wanted the best for me. My knight in shinning armor. Until things started looking not so shiny almost immediately.

‘You’re being stupid’

‘That’s not what I said, Kaylee’

‘No, that never even happen’

‘You’re the one that should’ve known better’

‘You’re going to make me lose my temper’

‘You’re insane’

‘You’re crazy’

‘You’re childish’ 

‘You’re helpless’

‘Even your family knows you’re impossible to deal with’ 

Of course I was told the first year of marriage is the hardest. Wasn’t expecting the first week to be so hard. I was expecting it to be hard living with someone for the first time. And I was taught all the ways to make it work. Communicate. Compromise. Forgive. Repeat. But the talking was always angry and I just kept asking for forgiveness. 

I was 18 years old, living away from home for the first time and married to a man older and ‘wiser’. Who was I to say otherwise, to anything he said to me. I mean, the world I was in all my life already told me that people like me, well, we are those things. We’re difficult. We’re different. We’re crazy. WE’RE the ones who need to change. So when this man, who I loved and who said he loved me, told me I was the problem, I believed it. 

I feel like I had some sense of who I was before this marriage, but not much. By the end, I’d lost myself completely. 

Less than two years into my marriage I was admitted to a psych ward for the first time. 

I just wanted it to end. 

I just wanted it to stop. 

I hated myself.

It was all my fault.

-to be continued-

Please Blow Out Your Gaslight.

 

Before I continue on with my oh so lovely and upbeat past life story you’re all dying to hear…ha…let’s talk more about gaslighting. 

That term actually originated from a  play in the 1930s which also had a film adaptation made in 1944. A film titled…you guessed it: Gaslight. 

In this story we follow a husband and wife named Paula and Gregory. The husband begins to slowly manipulated his wife into believing she’s going mad. The name ‘Gaslight’ comes from a part in the film where the husband is using the lights in an upstairs attic. At the same time Paula sees the gaslights dimming and brightening for no apparent reason in the house below. She later tells him and he tells her it’s all in her head. As viewers WE can clearly see him messing with the attic lights, causing the gaslights to flicker, and yet he continues to convince her she’s imagining it. 

Essentially, the term we use is to explain when the abuser uses persistent denial, misdirection, contradiction, and lying to make the victim feel unsure of their own sanity.

Also in the movie, Gregory leads Paula  to believe she's stealing things without realizing it and hearing noises that aren’t really there. He keeps this up until she begins to question her entire reality. (The ending is intense but I’m not gonna spoil it for those who enjoy older movies and might wanna watch it)

Anyways…in real life like I said before those who ‘gaslight’ may use these kind of tactics to make the victim feel they ‘imagined’ any abuse or mistreatment. Even using it simply to disorientate the victim as a form of abuse on it’s own.

Gaslighting can happen in romantic/intimate relationships, as well as friendships or in families. The goal for the gaslighter is to make their victim undermine their own judgement and reduce their self-esteem, making them easier to manipulate and eventually causes the victim to be dependent on the abuser for longer. 

“It can start with seemingly inconsequential, simple physical things” – such as causing the lights to dim but refusing to validate it, like in the movie. Maybe even stealing or moving something and accusing the victim of losing said item. Sometimes even flat out denying events, actions, or words even happened and using the Gaslighter’s favorite phrases: ‘that never happened’ or ‘I never said that’. 

They often call their victim ‘crazy’ during these moments to make them genuinely believe it, slowly eroding away at the difference between what’s real and what’s in their own head.

Gaslighting can and most likely will isolate the victim. To maintain control gaslighting abusers will convince the victim that their loved ones are mad at them, or hate them all together. Often the victim feels detached from anyone other then the abuser, and eventually cut off anyone else. Meaning they end up with a smaller or nonexistent support network to escape the abuse they’re suffering.

To make matters worse, often the abusers will even use gaslighting on those around the victim to encourage the story. The abusers family or friends and others around could eventually believe the victim to be crazy, unpredictable, and unstable. In the end the abuser we’ll make themselves look like a victim for having to deal with such a person and a ‘saint’ for sticking around and helping. 

Which is why gaslighting is a narcissists favorite tool. But it’s still only one of many in their arsenal. 

-to be continued- 

Poor Boy, Let Me Help You

 In the beginning of 2010, I was 18 and pregnant with my birth daughter Ruby. Had struggled through many different things in that last year but nothing prepared me for the rollercoaster of grief and emotion after giving birth and placing a baby for adoption. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t then or ever will doubt my decision to place Ruby with her family. However hormonal and chemical warfare after giving birth is a thing. We as women are supposed to nurture and care for our newborns after, and in this situation my body was not happy I denied it that responsibility. Everything hurt. My heart, my breasts, my stomach, my legs, arms, feet. Basically every inch of me. Giving birth is hard. It’s even harder when you don’t have the distraction of a newborn to force you out of it all. And the emotional pain of giving your daughter a better life while also losing her in a sense. I was left only with my own needs. My own pain. And my own thoughts. After going on vacation with my family shortly after I left the hospital, I shut myself in my house. I don’t think it was postpartum, but I had sunken into a pretty bad ‘numb state’. I’d graduated but had no friends left really. I didn’t want to go anywhere. Do anything. 

Eventually my mom conspired with a family friend to get me to join institute choir. Against my better judgement, and despite the fact I can not sing even a little bit, I went. 

The thing about narcissists are, they don’t usually know they’re narcissist. They usually look unassuming. They’re people, like everyone else, except the way they view themselves in the world is different then most of us. 

It’s almost impossible to explain the draw a narcissist has to those who are vulnerable. We are drawn to the appearance of their confidence. They are drawn to our wide eyed uncertainty. He came out of no where, but in less than five words he had me trapped. 

I met my narc at a time in my life when I couldn’t even begin to know who I was. Here was someone who seemed so sure of himself and also seemed to know how to define me. So I let him.  He listened to the stories of my pain and hurt. My past traumas, and he told me what I always wanted to hear. We had things in common and he made me want to change those things about myself that didn’t match him. The thing that drew me in most, he was wounded, too. I’m not sure if it was the need to feel motherly, or just my empathy that made me want to care for him, even when I didn’t know how to care for myself. Or maybe the need to be around someone who was confident but also showed me he had been through hard things too. 

I didn’t care that his pain seemed to always come before mine. I didn’t care that he gently encouraged us to do things against my better judgement. I didn’t care that he seemed to want to be a victim instead of a survivor. I was smitten. As the poems below show…I never really stood a chance. 

Hello

You call me ‘beautiful’ 

Like it’s my name. 

My heart never stood a chance.

I’m smitten. 

Charming 

Silly jokes and nonstop compliments 

Oh, how charming you are

My mind never stood a chance 

I’m smitten. 

Passion

Roaming hands found my weakness 

Oh, how passionate you are

My body never stood a chance

I’m smitten. 

Now I know, I was a naive stupid 18 year old in this moment. Therefore it’s not like he could possibly be the only one to blame for the many many MANY bad decisions that would follow the months after we met. I was reckless and rebellious. Desperate for love like any hopeless romantic. And in the beginning I was truly convinced we were deeply in love so I did whatever I needed to stay with him. 

When I was forced to face the fact that he cheated on me, not once, but multiple times. Not with just one person, but two. I grabbed hold to every begging word to forgive him that he gave me. And I did. I forgave him. He was broken. He was wounded. He was struggling and I knew how that felt. So I forgave him. And I offered to help him. I hadn’t even begun to heal myself, but I set that all aside, for him. 

Not long after, it got too much and my mind was trying to make me SEE what was really in front of me. Doubts came and I tried to end it. 

But then he proposed. And the hopeless romantic, the desperate little girl who wanted to be needed and loved, just couldn’t say no. 

-to be continued- 

Narc Narc…Who’s There?

 

So hi! Hello, I’m back. It’s been a bit and there’s so many amazing changes going on in my life! I’ve been stressed with the to do list but overall so excited and happy for where my life is heading. I haven’t wanted to sit down and dwell on the past or the pain that still unfortunately lingers inside my mind and heart. But I feel strongly I need to start yet another hard truth conversation. Possibly even dedicate this blog for the next little bit to this specific topic. Since I’ve had many people reach out to me about it over the last few months, I’ve still found myself fighting against actually posting. But I can’t deny the need to start this conversation.

In a post quite a bit ago I mentioned briefly the topic of narcissism. I’m in no way a professional or expert and if you think you might be dealing with a narcissist in your life I strongly suggest you seek professional help and support. 

HOWEVER….another powerful tool is peer support and SPEAKING OUT! So I’ll be sharing some deeper views, experiences and opinions of narcissism and how it’s effected my life personally. 

If you’re like me, when you think of a narcissist you think of some self absorbed vain actor who’s arrogant and bossy. Someone who’s obsessed with money and success as much as they are with looks and materialistic things. I mean, the definition you’ll find of the word narcissist is in fact: ‘a person who has an excessive interest in or admiration of themselves’. However, if you dig deeper into studying the world of narcissism, you’ll find there’s actually many different definitions, forms and traits. The spectrum of narcissism runs from simple selfishness to straight up sociopath. The more you learn, the scarier it gets to think about. But it’s also healing to understand when you’ve encountered people like this. Being able to identify a narcissist in your life can be the saving knowledge to help you cope. 

There’s typically four main types of narcissist that you’ll see mentioned in medical texts and support groups. This first post is gonna be a lot of educational material so that when I share more personal information and experiences you’ll have the ability to understand better. So let me list and give a quick snap overview of each of these types. 

(Information taken and modified from medium.com) 

1 — Grandiose Narcissist

“I’m better than you, and I know it”

This is your classic arrogant and attention-seeking narcissist. They are entitled, preoccupied with success, and jealous of other people.

Often misusing or exploiting relationships for one’s own benefit, they will gaslight you to doubt your own feelings and intuitions.

These people use their empathy to tune in to what pleases you, and uses it to manipulate. In doing so, they find validation.

2 — Malignant Narcissist

“I will do whatever it takes to get what I want.”

Contrary to the “grandiose narcissist”, these individuals don’t do anything for your benefit. They will lash out at, or attempt to destroy other people in order to prop up his or her fragile sense of self. They are bullies. 

While there is a difference between narcissists and psychopaths, this category of narcissists has a tendency to lean towards psychopathy more so than any other type of narcissist.

They still do feel some degree of guilt and shame when breaking rules whereas a psychopath will not feel any.

3 — Covert Narcissist

“I’m a great artist but the world never noticed my talent.”

This one can be trickier to spot than other types of narcissists because the person isn’t always obvious about their disorder. Suggested by the name, this type of narcissist is someone who has has a hidden layer of narcissistic traits.

Deeply self-absorbed, these individuals feel chronically victimized, as though the world has failed to recognize their brilliance.

Often misdiagnosed as depression, their concealed confidence makes it difficult to recognize their narcissistic traits at first sight. They are passive-aggressive, hypersensitive to criticism, and truly believe that the world never got their greatness.

At first encounter, they may even seem like that friend who lacks confidence and needs a boost but the key indicator of their narcissism is the arrogance along with their failure. They don’t take ownership of what they did wrong and always blame the world and others for them not succeeding.

4 — Communal Narcissist

“Look at all the great things I’ve done for the world!”

This subtype of narcissism refers to individuals who get their validation from community-related aspects of life, such as helpfulness, and philanthropy.

This is the person who has countless photos on their social media of them getting all dressed up and going to charity events and galas.

They are always showing off their great deeds for the world but have an instant need to talk about it. They seek a lot of validation for their “good work”.

They even seem to have a lack of empathy for the people they are trying to help and rather feel above them.

If we want to do a good deed, we do it quietly. We do it because we know it’s the right thing to do. But a communal narcissist does it for show. A narcissist only cares for their image in the eyes of the world, rather than how they make everyone else feel.

Pretty intense, huh. One word that was used in those descriptions was ‘gaslight’. I think I briefly mentioned this in one of my last blog posts but let me give you the in depth definition of gaslighting if you don’t already know. 

gas·light

verb

gaslighting: manipulate (someone) by psychological means into questioning their own sanity. 

Gaslighting is a form of manipulation that often occurs in abusive relationships. It is an insidious and sometimes covert type of emotional abuse where the bully or abuser makes the target question their judgments and reality. Even though this word was only used under grandiose narcissist it’s often a tool many other types use to control and manipulate others. 

These types often have many of the same traits but their main drive or focus is what determines ultimately which type they are. We are so used to the grandiose type being talked about as the obvious form of narcissism. However the other three are just as prominent in the world. In fact, the two most dangerous of the four, I believe, is the covert and malignant narcissist. 

Which when combined makes up the kind I came face to face with in 2010 and who shook the very core of my existence for years after. 

-to be continued- 

Unfiltered Me

Like most people who are insecure and unsure...I use a lot of filters. It’s a bad habit to see yourself with a face that isn’t really yours. I mean, it’s me but me perfected in a way that unless I turn back time and/or invest some serious money to certain doctors...I will never achieve. I LOVE filter me. I think she’s prettier than I could ever hope to be. But this has given me a bit of a complex. I’m afraid to be seen in person or even worse...without makeup! “They’ll see just how fake those pictures are” 

So even though I feel good about myself when I see my face smooth and flawless, in the end I’m left feeling ugly. 

So...I’m doing something I NEVER thought I’d ever be brave enough to do. 

#nomakeupselfie 

Here it is, a spectrum of me. First picture is me, completely undone. Hair wet, no makeup, me as me. The pictures gradually ‘beautify’. 

1. No make up, hair wet
2. Hair dry, still no make up 
3. Make up, hair dry/done 
4. Finished product, still no filter
5. Filter one 
6. Filter two
7. Filter three, what I usually post

Now, I’m not doing this for others to tell me I’m pretty no matter what. I’m doing this to break a barrier I have set myself. I want to be comfortable in my own skin and not be as fake as those filters make me feel and look. I want to learn to love me as me, flaws and all. 

So there you have it. 

Thank you for reading and as always:

Much love and God bless. 

Quest for Positivity

A few months ago, I let the past back in my heart and an unobtainable future into my mind. My eyes were blinded to the present and presence right in front of me. I decided to put my energy into something, hoping maybe, a miracle would happen. That my life would turn around, and like the ending to a feel good movie...I’d find my happiness. Life isn’t like that. You can’t shop in the past and spend what’s already been spent. You can’t create a parallel life where your actual responsibilities and mistakes are just *poof* gone and you’re free to live a different life. Life only moves forward. It’s a constant battle. A war. An opportunity. Life is day by day, week by week. You can plan ahead, just don’t forget to live today as well as tomorrow. You can look behind, to learn and grow and remember. But don’t let what happened be what happens again and again. Don’t cut open old wounds that have finally begun to heal because you don’t like the look of the scar. Let it be. Let it heal. Let it go. 

Nothing good comes from finding fault with others. With yourself. With situations. With life. Live the journey of life as a quest for positivity. The quest to finding what’s right, what’s beautiful, what’s good in every situation. Because this world has more beauty then it could ever have ugliness.

A YouTuber named Justin (Justin Scarred/Randomland) started a ‘Quest for Positivity’ after his entire world was turned upside down. Evan and I both really enjoy watching his videos. He had every reason to be bitter and angry. To allow the bad hand life suddenly dealt him to control and dictate how he saw life and how he lived each day. Instead he started ‘The Quest for Positivity’ and invited everyone to start on their own Quest. In a world where so many people make a living off of being cynical and negative, he shows us how much beauty and joy can be found if you just allow yourself to look for it. Get excited. Be goofy. Be positive. Laugh. Don’t be lame just because you’re an adult, or because you may think it’s uncool to actually smile and be happy. Life is so much better when you’re weird. Dance in the street. Sing in the store. Get nerdy over Star Wars. Jump up and down with excitement. 
I love it. I have always been one to complain. To expect and think the worst. I’ve always been cynical of the world because I felt the world was always being cynical of me. 

Last night, I fell into one of the worst depressions I’ve had in a long time. I was worn and torn and exhausted. I felt defeated in every sense of the word. Even after taking a sleep aide and forcing myself to just sleep it off, I woke up this morning and went right back to sleep, not wanting to even attempt to face the day. I don’t know why I finally got up, probably the guilt of having Joey just watch tv in bed while I selfishly slept most of the morning away. I eventually made it from the bed to the couch. As Joey played with his toys on the floor, I absentmindedly looked through my phone. My mind was still overwhelmed with pain and negativity. I just wanted to go back to bed. Suddenly, I hear Joey beside me. ‘Mom, look.’ I look over at him. ‘Mom, look I’m right here, mom.’ 

All the pain went away. All the negative thoughts all the self hate and judgements. All the hurt and hopelessness. I knew he was there. I knew he loved me and I knew he was worth all the pain and hardships I have gone through and will eventually go through. But I forgot to look. I forgot to see him. To focus on the beauty. No matter the amount of ugliness that may live within me or around me, the beauty he brings into my life will always outweigh all the ugly. The quest for positivity is more then just being positive. A lot of us can smile in the mist of pain. Can fake happiness in the chaos. The quest for positivity is about looking for reasons to be genuinely happy. It’s not enough to just put on a mask if when you take it off you still focus on the negative. We got to train our minds to see. All the beauty in the world is saying, ‘Look, look, I’m right here’ You just have to choose to see it. To see it. To feel it. To live it. And to let it warm your heart and make you feel genuinely happy, positive, grateful and loved. 

Thank you Justin for choosing to start this quest. Thank you, Evan for sharing it with me and for your patience and love. Thank you Joey, for being the beauty. 
Thank you to all those who bring beauty into my life. 
Much love and God bless. 

Walk With Me, Talk With Me

WARNING: READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

I have debated back and forth about posting this entry. I fully and wholeheartedly believe this needs to be shared. However, I’ve written, rewritten, trashed, started over, and written again various versions of this, and concluded that there’s really no safe way to say it. Except to just get it out. Honest, true, and without worrying about how others will respond. I hope I do spare some people’s feelings. Also, really don’t want to offend anyone. So please, reader discretion is advised.

************************************

We all doubt ourselves. We all have moments where we are unsure. We all have made mistakes. We’ve all affected someone negatively. We’ve all had someone affect us. There is no way to change our past, but we sure as heck can decide our future. What I’m going to write is not to belittle others pain, trials, experiences, or hardships. This is only the experience and opinions of me, my life, my pain. I’m not here to compare my life to others. I am here to spread awareness and to help others understand me and people like me who may feel the same way.

I know I’ve written before about my wonderful mental health struggles. (Hope you heard the sarcasm in that sentence, ha.) I’ve given many small glimpses to how I feel and how I deal. However, a recent conversation had me feeling as if I wasn’t saying enough. Telling enough. That I’ve been unnecessarily keeping secrets. And ‘nothing good can come from keeping secrets’. So, I’m here to tell it all. One entry at a time.

When I say that, I do not mean going to great lengths and detail through every mistake I’ve ever made, or every horrible thing that’s happened. I mean that as a writer, a religious person, and someone who’s gone through a lot in life, in such a short amount of time, I have a lot to share. A lot of pain, a lot of power, a lot of fear and a whole lot of love. All my life I’ve wanted to make a difference in someone’s life. A difference in the world. I have witnessed and been hit with so much hardship. Something good must come from this. I’m writing to prevent others from falling in the same hole and maybe even help someone else out of one.

There’s A LOT of things in life that people don’t talk about. Maybe it’s too uncomfortable, too awkward. Or maybe it’s due to lack of understanding. The only way to change this is to help people be aware and talk about it.

What’s the first topic and first on the list of things people don’t talk enough about?

Abuse.

Abuse happens.

Whether you talk about it or not, there is 100% chance that someone you know, someone you are close with, is being, will be, or has been abused. It is not my right to talk about other people’s abuse, but I can tell my story. I can tell you how it changed me.

I was abused at the age of 4, by an adult I should’ve been able to trust. I wasn’t badly abused (do not get me wrong ABUSE IS ABUSE) though it was nothing like so many have suffered through. It was so slight that for years I wasn’t even sure it really happened. For years, I thought I dreamed it all. Except I had this knot in the pit of my stomach. When I was older, I gained information that I wasn’t the first this adult had abused. I finally started trying harder to piece together this ‘dream’. Why would I make this up at such a young age, when I didn’t even know what it meant? That’s when I knew, it was real. It happened. And it had been changing me long before I even accepted that it really happened.

For those who may be panicking, I am not going to disclose the details of this abuse. I will not be naming names or anything like that. The law has taken its course and ‘justice’ for lack of a better word, has been served. I want to spare everyone the specifics and details because that’s not what I want to express today. What happened is only part of the story. Why it happened, and what it did to me is what matters. And I hope this doesn’t make anyone feel guilty or angry or hurt. I just want to share my side. Because it’s important.

As a young girl, this horrible thing happened to me. I didn’t know it was horrible. Although I believe deep down I knew it wasn’t okay. More in a, ‘you’re grounded and no TV’ kind of way. No child really understands the magnitude certain situations, at such a young age, can affect their ENTIRE life and the lives of so many others. Sadly, I wasn’t the first victim, as I stated before. Most of the adults in my life were aware of the previous abuse that happened more than 15 years before me. However, because of the way the world was then, no one knew how to respond. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing for everyone. What would people think? The first victim (I’m using this term instead of names, but I hate it) anyways, the first victim didn’t come forward for quite some time. I can just hear the abuser, “You know it was so long ago, we should just move on.” Using time as an excuse. And so ultimately, it was pushed to the back of everyone’s mind. (I’m 100% speculating and being very rude but this is my view from what I saw and what I’ve seen) Even if it wasn’t forgotten, it was NEVER talked about. No one wanted to be the person that made things awkward. No one wanted to call this person out and be accused of causing drama. Some, maybe even most, I believe didn’t understand exactly what happened because specifics were never discussed. It was never laid out for EVERYONE, “This person abused someone and should not be trusted.”

Now with that view point in place, I want to stress that this is NO ONES fault but the abuser’s. It is not my parents fault, not the previous victims fault, and it’s NOT my fault. We ALL could’ve done something, said something that could’ve changed things. I have struggled with that guilt for so long. But I know now that nothing I did or DIDN’T do in that moment gives me any blame to what happened. It was the abusers fault. 100%. Sadly, I wasn’t the last victim. By the time, I had worked through everything and pieced together my memories, it was too late. However, I still spoke up. I gave my statements and told the authorities what happened. I hope I made a difference and helped in our fight for justice. But let’s break this down a bit. I was 4 when it happened. So how old was I when I finally said something?....

I was 17. It took me THIRTEEN years to say anything. With there being another victim after me, it’s hard to know that I maybe could’ve prevented it. Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I say anything, even when I wasn’t 100% sure it really happened? I could’ve still said something. How would my life be now if I had? Would I have gotten help sooner? Would I have not made so many mistakes? Would I love myself more? See, the reason it is so important to TALK about these things is not to only prevent future vicitims, but to make it easier for current or past victims to come forward. To get help. To understand the significance of what happened and how it has affected their life more than they may realize. It’s important to talk about it because abuse isn’t always like it’s described in health class or depicted in movies.

Abuse doesn’t always hurt. It’s often small and subtle. It may grow fast and get worse, but it doesn’t start that way.

It’s not always this horrible painful abuse that leaves visible scars. In fact, one of the reasons many victims don’t come forward is because it felt good. They think that because their body reacted a certain way, it’s somehow their fault. Or like me, somehow, I knew, even at such a young age that what was happening was wrong. But it tickled. It felt good. It makes me sick to my stomach to write that, but that’s what abusers do. They use our body against us. At 4 years old, because I let it happen, I felt like if I told, I would be the one to get in trouble. Parents always talk to their kids about not letting someone touch their private parts. They forget to stress that this is not because THEY would get in trouble. Like I stated before, I thought it might be bad like I would be grounded. Not the adult. Because to kids, adults don’t get in trouble usually. They are the ones telling us what to do, and we get in trouble if we don’t listen.

My mother swears she asked me when I was little if anyone had hurt me. Or touched me inappropriately. She has always had a keen sense when something wasn’t right. But even if she did ask (I don’t recall this particular conversation) I wasn’t going to say anything that I thought would get me in trouble. I wouldn’t have said anything because I didn’t want it to stop. Because I didn’t understand what was happening. All I knew is that it made my body feel good. If I knew just how screwed up my life would become, all starting with that one moment, I would’ve screamed. But I didn’t. And so this is it.

Forwarding, when I was about 5 or 6, I was diagnosed with ADHD. This wasn’t due to the abuse. Just another hardship I was given. I think that everything was blamed on my ADHD. All the normal signs and effects of someone who has been abused was drowned in the sea of ADHD symptoms. My family struggled daily with knowing how to deal with me. I was crazy and out of control. They love me, I’m sure. But I didn’t always feel it, and I’m unaware exactly how hard it was for them. My childhood was hard for me too. I didn’t understand why things were so much harder for me. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so…. broken. My life became one bad choice after another til I found myself 17 and pregnant and FINALLY coming forward to my family about my abuse. I remember when we talked to the family about everything that was going on. The victim after me was discovered, which set into motion a roller-coaster that none of us were prepared for. I had come forward also, finally realizing staying silent wasn’t helping anyone, especially myself. My brother, Austin, who I’m closest in age to, said something I’ve never forgotten. In the light of all my recent bad choices, one of which resulted in pregnancy, he was having a challenging time loving me, I could tell. But when all this was discussed, he asked, with tears in his eyes, “So, is this why Kaylee is the way she is?” and my mom responded, “I think so.” He then stood up, embraced me and for the first time in years I felt like I was going to be okay. I had never ever thought that one moment 13 years before could’ve really had that much effect on where my life was, at that point. But it did.

I have memories of being 6-7 years old, yes SEVEN YEARS OLD, a freaking seven year old thinking about sex. How did I even know about sex? Who taught me this? There is no denying my abuse sexualized my mind and body and created a child who was very much aware of things a child shouldn’t be aware of. Not that young, not like that. I take responsibility for my actions after I reached the age of accountability, when regardless of my abuse, I knew better. However, I also know that the effects of abuse are very real. Very powerful, overwhelming and dark. Many counselling sessions and many years later, I am still not fully past everything. But I know I will only continue to be stronger.

Did this make you feel uncomfortable? Did you stop reading or feel awkward reading such personal things? Well don’t. That’s what abusers want. They want it to be this uncomfortable and embarrassing thing to talk about. They use that as a tool to keep us silent, and too keep others from listening. Well I’m not afraid. I’m not ashamed. I’m not going to be silent.

I was abused, and I’m going to talk about it.  

Child Abuse Awareness