On this Day Three Years Ago…

Today marks three years since I found those tormented videos. The videos that shattered my demented world.

My adoptive father, Tim, decided that values and respect towards not only women in general but towards his very own daughter meant nothing through his brown, devilish eyes.

All those brown, devilish eyes wanted was his daughter’s love. My love. But not the love with rainbows and butterflies. The kind of love that makes the hair on your back stand up straight and sends an instant fear throughout your entire body.

Tim decided, on this what I thought to be a normal day, he was going to upload all the nude pictures and videos he taken of me over the last two years onto the desktop of his computer. Yes, you heard correctly. Tim, the only father I’ve known at this point in time, not only hid a camera in my bedroom in my small, brown bookcase. He then decides to take his creepy red and white sneakers to the outside of the white, open blinded window and videotape me taking my bath. Multiple times. Multiple occasions.

I can’t even begin to explain the pain that exploded throughout my entire body on this day three years ago.

I crawled out of my bed, exhausted from work, this day three years ago. As I began watching my guilty pleasure, drinking my pumpkin spice coffee, and slowly opening my father’s black laptop, I noticed a naked figure on the screen. And that’s the moment I knew I needed to get the fuck out. And I wish I would have stayed out. I wish I would have had the courage to fight the demons that were slowly creeping into both of my pale, white ears.

My mother is my ultimate kryptonite.

My mother, oh my mother, today while I stare at the one remaining photo I own. Because sadly this day two years ago, I couldn’t stand to look at either of our pathetic faces any longer. My heart feels heavy for you. It hurts me so terribly knowing that you’ve chosen a life of torture. And for what? True love? Money? Stability? What do you have to gain? I had so much hope, and there will always be a glimmer, that you would snap your denial brain and leave the fucking monster. But this year I’ve come to realize you just don’t love me like you love Tim. You’ve resented me before I even popped out of that petite, malnutrition body of yours. Did you ever tell a soul you were pregnant? Or did you just wait until the day I was born?

The questions I wish I could ask you constantly circle my brain and slowly over time my soul began believing I was unlovable. Because I mean if your own mother doesn’t love you, who could?

And on this September day, I still question the whys? And this is why I will never allow you into my life once more. I would never put the pain you put upon me on any child, let alone on my own. That act is unforgivable. And to those that say forgiveness is key to happiness. This grudge you should say reminds my broken heart to let my mother go. Let her be.

I can only grieve my mother once.

But through all the pain, on this day, three years later, I have never been more proud of myself.

April of this year, I finally had the courage to face my demons and face Tim during his plea hearing. I am not going to lie the entire court process is long, pathetic, and heartbreaking. I’ve never experienced anger towards our lovely United States, but I am slowly understanding why we are so hated by many. Point blank, our Justice System is an out of date piece of shit. And even with the proof of what Tim did to me since it was his first offense, he gets a lovely slap on the wrist. And it probably helps that he’s technically a wealthy white male. I mean how could he do any harm right?

But I don’t regret standing tall and having a voice that April morning. I walked up to that stand, shaking hands and all, and looked at that judge and kindly stated how everyone around me is allowing this man to walk out of the courtroom to abuse others. Tim will never stop. He will just get wiser. He should be in prison and fed to the others. But he gets to continue to live his life in denial while I continue to deal with the piece of black he left in my soul.

I thank Tim though. I thank him because his creepy actions gave me the opportunity to escape. I might have taken the extremely long route. But I was eventually courageous enough to leave. And I am so proud of myself for accomplishing that. And to those struggling please don’t ever give up, no matter what your circumstance may be. There is always hope, you yourself just have to believe it.

Today, three years later, I am continuing to heal myself and the relationships around me. Learning to love myself again is an obstacle I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, but I am beyond grateful I have the opportunity to find my true self without the manipulation of Tim and my mother, Rhonda.

I have a wonderful man who stood by my lies, manipulative behavior, and I want to be so desperately heard. My mental health plummeted this day three years ago and for a long while, I let the voices control my every thought and emotion. It was better than living in reality.

And not only do I have someone that loves me unconditionally, but I also have my father, real father, patiently waiting for my demons to subside so I can finally let our relationship grow.

And that shows true love in itself. I am patiently waiting for the moment I open my eyes and say I can trust again. My heart is so overly joyful that I not only have a father waiting for me, I have an entire family waiting for me to overcome my parents’ torture.

I have two sisters. A little brother. And a mother. Grandmas. Aunts. The list continues and continues…

So to those who are scared to speak up because the thought of losing their comfort terrifies them. Just ask yourself this. Is the pain worth your happiness? Is the denial worth the depressive thoughts? Sometimes what scares us in life, truly is the greatest blessing.

And my rock bottom saved my destiny.

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