“My parents separated when I was three. There was a custody battle, but my mother was on drugs and alcohol, so my dad got me. I was about seven years old when he started molesting me. He did this for ten years, saying it was because he loved me. I tried to tell my stepmother, but she depended on him and wouldn’t listen to me. She called me a troubled child who wanted attention. 

I started having night terrors and panic attacks at a young age, and the doctors put me on Dilantin, an anxiety medication. I couldn’t sleep at night because I watched the door, praying my dad wouldn’t come in. I couldn’t concentrate and got behind in school. 

Uncles and cousins also messed with me; it was always someone to deal with. I stayed with my grandparents on the weekends, but I couldn’t tell them what was going on. I ran away numerous times and begged people to take me away. I had an imagination and learned how to twist away from myself. I also had friends who were promiscuous — I had them come over so my father would be with them and wouldn’t bother me. 

I was 11 when I started drinking the Bacardi I found under my stepmom’s bed. Taking a couple of sips in the afternoon was a release, then I started smoking weed at 15 to numb the pain. I got pregnant and married young. It was the only way I thought I could escape. I had my kids when I was 16 and 17.  Thankfully my father was fixed, and I couldn’t have kids with him. 

I left my kids’ father and became a stripper to take care of them. After all I had been through, I didn’t value my body. Stripping became my way to have power over men 

There was a time I didn’t have a place to live with my girls, so my dad put a trailer for us behind his house. That made it easy for him to get to me again. He was there one night when the girls were sleeping and said, ‘See how much you love those girls.’ I said, ‘I love them more than you ever loved me. I could never do to them what you did to me.’ The girls were so innocent and sweet. I was that way once. How could someone do what he did to a child and never own up to it?

Relationships are hard, and I sabotage them when something is good. I lost my grandfather, one of my saving graces, and his death devastated me. I started using meth, and life got even worse. I lost my cleaning business and my trailer. I used more and more drugs. I snorted Oxycontin and tried to hang myself at my boyfriend’s house. It would have worked if he hadn’t come in and cut me down. I signed my daughters over to my boyfriend’s mom, and she took care of them.

I was homeless for a few years. Another rock bottom was moving into a shed behind my mother’s camper. My mother hadn’t changed, but I had nowhere else to go. She and my stepdad trafficked me for crack cocaine. 

I was doing meth and heroin and have a scar on my neck where I shot up heroin. Then my dealer slipped fentanyl into the meth. I didn’t know about the fentanyl until I was hooked and the heroin wasn’t working anymore. I got so sick without fentanyl and used meth and fentanyl to keep a balance.  I did meth to get up and fentanyl to relax and fall asleep.

I was the test bunny for dealers to try out the new batches of drugs before anyone else did. If it hurt me, great. I was on a mission to die. My life was worthless, and nothing was going to change. I lost a lot of friends to drugs. Their bodies gave out, or they had a heart attack,  overdosed, or committed suicide.

My last time to ‘use’ was early this year when I went to jail and detoxed on the jail floor. A girl almost died near me. I heard God say, ‘Enough. I can’t chase you anymore, you are mine.’

My whole life was fight or flight, and I tried to numb myself out of it for many years. Now I’m completely sober. I don’t take anything, not even medications to sleep.

I finally have joy and peace in my heart. I might be crying, but these are tears of joy. I have survived what was done to me and what I did to myself. I have survived sexual abuse from my father, being trafficked by my mother, and abandonment from both of them. I have survived abuse from my husbands and my own suicide attempts. But I now see God’s amazing grace and mercy have always been wrapped around and poured over me to protect me.

I forgave my mom and dad. You have to forgive to be forgiven. I am learning to forgive myself. I loved everyone else, but I felt worthless. I would go down in a blaze of glory just so everyone else could be okay.

I got this Faith tattoo a month ago. The dots are for the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I have a team of support to help me rise out of this. I go to AA meetings and go to church twice a week. I now have to help others and have a purpose or I will feel empty.  I live with my grandmother. She has always been my helper and motivator, now I get to help her

I have been in some form of prison all of my life. I don’t want to do anything that puts me behind emotional or physical bars again. My past doesn’t define my future. I want to be here for my daughters and grandkids and help other women along the way.”