Entering a new chapter or beginning, noticed my new aesthetic was the point of moving on from my past. There were many things I still carried and that still bothered me. Half of the things I went through I didn’t deserve. The number thirteen will forever haunt me, because two weeks before I turned thirteen. I was physically, mentally and sexually abused by someone I wasn’t related to. Many will never share their story because they are afraid and that the one who hurt them, can hurt them further. No one will really understand what it’s like always looking over your shoulder, wondering if you are safe or not. Many will think that the story isn’t true or you not telling all the truth, how would you know since you weren’t there? The wounds eventually turn into scars, while the pain lingered on. Habits learned, eventually would be unlearned. Even having a lifetime restraining order still doesn’t ease the pain or feel like I am safe, but I still have to live my life. Being blamed for something that I didn’t do, being told I was lair and I couldn’t be trusted. Eventually broke a relationship beyond repair. For many that relationship would never be amend. They say they change, they don’t it only gets worse. Not just the one abusing you, but the ones around you who turn their back on you. The abuser is the victim, while the victim is being treated like a criminal. I don’t put up with people’s shit. For years I lived in survival mode, once leaving survival mode the consequence I got was Fibromyalgia. A consequence I didn’t deserve. My body no longer knows how to interpret pain. This is where the pain comes in. Fibromyalgia comes from abuse. There was no way I come out of this dark moment, without God. For years I blamed myself, when It wasn’t my fault to being with. Finally sharing my story, is to give strength to ones who want to share their story but are afraid or will never be able to share their story. Having your life be threaten by someone who thinks they have power over you, is different type of being scared. Never once did I blame my parents, because it wasn’t their fault. Learning to hide the pain and pretend like everything was okay, is what many do when they are in survival mode. Eventually each year would get better, but I would still have nightmares and flashbacks that would wake me up at night, but I knew I was safe in God’s hands.