.

I don’t have to address you by your name because you know who you are. Not that it really matters because I’m sure you’re never going to read this. I would love to have the courage to send this to you, but the truth is I don’t. I am a confident, strong and determined woman, in spite of you. Yet somehow, I still carry a six-year old’s fear with me every day.

I want to start with this: I have a great life. In fact, I have a really fucking amazing life. I have an incredible husband, two beautiful children, a wonderful home, a good career, and a bright future ahead of me. I have worked hard to beat every stereotype you signed me up for. I make conscious decisions every day to fight the statistics of girls like me.

Girls like me.

Physical and sexual abuse survivors. I belong to that group because you put me there. I identify with those girls because of you. I relate to those girls because of what you put me through.

Other people label me in that group. They rationalize my behaviours and problems based on the statistics of that group. Therapists, counsellors, friends and family are all quick to excuse away my flaws and struggles because of your choices. I hoard childhood belongings because of my past. I have insomnia because of my past. I have anxiety because of my past.

It has been over 17 years, and yet what you did to me is still deeply ingrained in so much of my daily life.

There is no doubt in my mind you are blissfully ignorant of all of this. I am sure you are as selfish and self-centered as you always were. I’m sure you told yourself that you were happy to be rid of us. Rid of that woman and her brats. I’m sure you imagined that we were happy to be rid of you. And we were. I’m sure you thought that was the end of it.

But it wasn’t the end.

As we walked away from you and closed the door on the nine years of living in hell, we realized it was the beginning. It was the beginning of the aftermath. It was a beginning of coping. It was the beginning of figuring out how to live the rest of our lives with the memories of our past. It was the beginning of wondering if we would all be ok.

And we are. But we’re not. I’m not.

I have spent nearly 2 decades trying to move past you and I have faced hurdles continuously. Our time in that house with you maybe just distant memories on your end, but they have impacted so much of my life since then.

And I think it’s time you learn that.

You spent most of the nine years we lived with you being a mean and violent bastard. Everything was our fault and you never let us forget it. I spent years cowering at the sound of your voice, while simultaneously trying to figure out how I could make you happier.

But you found your own way to be happier in the final three years. After you had started to touch me and to asked me to kiss you like I kissed my boyfriends. Only then were you kinder to me. At the tender age of 12 years old, you instilled in me the notion that men will treat you better when you let them do what they want sexually. You made me believe that your happiness and perverted desires mattered more than me. They don’t, but it would take me until my early 20s to fully understand that.

Someone ran away with her innocence. A memory she can’t get out of her head. I can only imagine what she’s feeling when she’s praying. Kneeling at the edge of her bed. – Holy Water, Big & Rich

Every so often I worry that I making too big of a deal of all of this. That I am playing up the part of the broken girl. Or worse, that I actually enjoy being the broken girl. In these times, I have to remind myself that what you did is a big deal. There is no playing the part of a victim here. I am a victim. You terrorized us. You victimized me. You tampered with my innocence.

Look what he’s done to you. It isn’t fair. Your light was bright and new, but he didn’t care. He took the heart of a little girl and made it grow up too fast. – Broken Girl, Matthew West

I don’t want to be a broken girl. You turned me into one when you, at age 40, decided to molest your 12-year-old step-daughter. When you, a middle-aged man, looked at me with sexual thoughts when I had only ever had one kiss from an actual boy. You sexualized me in your mind before I had even begun to understand what sexuality was.

 – Read my full story of sexual abuse here. -

Do you remember the day that I told you I had tried to kill myself? I was 13 years old. You stood in front of me as I screamed at you in the middle of a fight and outlined exactly what I had tried to do. You had a look of shock on your face as you asked me why. My answer was simple. You. You are the reason. I wanted to escape you. You had literally trampled my soul and ruined my life. Standing in the doorway of my bedroom, you wept. You openly cried and apologized repeatedly.

And then less than a month later, you molested me again. Because you are nothing but a fucking monster and you couldn’t help yourself.

There’s a part of me I can’t get back. A little girl grew up too fast. All it took was once, I’ll never be the same. Now I’m taking back my life today. Nothing left that you can say. Cause you are never gonna take the blame anyway. – Warrior, Demi Lavato

I live with the memory of trying to hurt myself every day. I carry the guilt of what I almost did and how badly I would have broken the hearts of the people I love.

Like mom, who was beyond devastated when I admitted my attempted suicide more than a decade after the fact. She endured so much pain, guilt and heartbreak when we each finally admitted the things you had done to us kids. The worst part is, you had been hurting her too. You used fear and threats to divide us for years, leading each side to believe the other was happy, when in reality, you controlled a living nightmare for everyone in our home.

Oh mother, we’re stronger from all of the tears you have shed. Oh mother, don’t look back ’cause he’ll never hurt us again. – Oh Mother, Christina Aguilera

I don’t know if you’re aware, or even if you would care, but she died last year. I was 31 years old at the time. I only got three decades with my mom. That’s it. And just over nine years of that, nearly 1 decade, was spent living in terror with you. Nearly 1/3 of the total time I had my mom is overshadowed and painted by the horrible memories that you caused our family. I’ll never get that time back. I don’t have the chance to spend few more decades erasing bad memories with great ones.

Three decades is all mom and I got together and you destroyed 1/3 of it.

These are just a few of the ways that you have completely and utterly fucked with my psyche. Leaving me with emotional scars that I will forever be repairing. See to you, I am likely just one of your ex-fiancé’s brats, who you have distant memories of. But you are the monster who will haunt my mind for the rest of my life.

What I didn’t expect, when we called the cops all those years ago, was to have lasting physical ramifications of your choices.

First, it was learning about how my body didn’t develop right because of you:

At age 24, we were preparing to start a family. I’ve always had a lot of joint and muscle pain and decided to start seeing a chiropractor to help with my alignment before pregnancy. After a few visits, she wanted to talk about some of the issues she noticed with me. There were lots of areas where my joints don’t line up right or things don’t quite connect as they should. She asked if I had suffered physical damage during my developmental years, maybe from sports.

I took a deep breath and started explaining how I did have a piece of shit ex-step-father who was cruel and abusive. I had to describe how you regularly tossed me into walls and dragged me aggressively by the arm. How you hit us and left bruises everywhere. We both had tears in our eyes as she explained that trauma like that can cause a growing body to set incorrectly and that I may always have some chronic pain.

Then it was learning about how the scar tissue you caused gave me early arthritis:

At age 28, I had a terrible pain in my left hip. It felt like something had exploded. I spent the next several weeks seeing a physiotherapist, to determine out what was happening. Within a few visits, the doctor discovered that I had arthritis in my left hip. I thought this was a little unusual for 28. Just as the chiropractor before him had, the physiotherapist asked me if I had ever played aggressive sports as a kid or if I had ever been in a car accident. He explained how scar tissue can cause early arthritis. I said no.

Again, I had to explain you. I told him about the time you ripped me off the top landing of our stairs and pulled me down to the bottom by my hair. How my left hip and shoulder had banged off each step as I tried to loosen your grip on my head. The doc looked, shock on his face and muttered, “yeah, that will do it.”

When I was thrown against cold stairs. And every day I’m afraid to come home in fear of what I might see there…And I still remember how you kept me so afraid…Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday. And I’m Ok. – I’m Ok, Christina Aguilera

And scariest of all, discovering that at the tender age of 10, you caused me to have a stroke:

Fast forward a few years, I am 32 years old and experiencing some mild stroke-like symptoms. This time it is several months in and out of labs and offices, while they try to figure out what is wrong. Luckily, all of the results come back clear and the doctor tells me I’m healthy. So I ask him about my symptoms and the fact I had failed a very specific motor skill test, which is almost always a clear indication of a stroke. The doc replied by telling me he is certain I had a small stroke at some point in my life.

Then he proceeds to ask if I played aggressive sports as a kid or had ever been in a car accident. Once again, I had to lay out my sorted life story, in the middle of a doctor’s office. I explain the kind of man you were; How you once smacked me across the head with a wet leather baseball glove so hard, blood pooled in my left ear. Once again I had to watch a look of horror flash across the face of a medical professional, as he realized any damage done to me was not caused by something as innocent as sports, but rather by the horrific actions of a grown man.

I feel like every few years they find some sort of physical challenge for me to face and so much of it is the fallout that came from living with you.

I know you might be thinking that I need to get over it. All of it. Maybe I need to move on and leave the past in the past. Every once in a while, someone in my life today will tell me just that. That I need to leave all of this behind me and just be happy.

I am happy. I am very happy.

But I will not forget and quite frankly, I will never forgive. Not you. You don’t deserve it. Just as you don’t deserve the grace of my silence for even one single day.

I want to hold on to some of those memories because they give me strength. They fuel my hate fire. I don’t want to let go of that little bit of anger that motivates me to speak up and lend my voice to a conversation that nobody likes having. Because without this conversation, monsters like you exist in silence.

In an ideal world, people like you wouldn’t exist at all. You would have never gotten to a point of hurting other people. But you did, and I wish you could feel even a fraction of the pain I am left with for the rest of my life. Sadly, you never will.

——————————————–

For my fellow survivors, all of the songs highlighted above are ones that I listen to when I am feeling weighed down by my past. I created an Apple Music playlist with these songs, along with others, titled I’m Ok. You can listen to it here. I hope it helps you find strength.

The post Open Letter to My Abuser: These are the lasting impacts of your actions. appeared first on Ideally speaking....

Well it’s official. I’ve hit my 30s. As of 2 weeks ago, I can no longer say I’m in my 20s. While that fact is a little hard to swallow, it went down easier than I expected. Age is just a number after all.

On the Friday before my birthday, I posted on Facebook and asked if there’s anything special I should do to celebrate the going out of my 20s. One friend had a really great suggestion to make a list of everything that I’ve accomplished in my life up until this point. Then to sit back look at that list and feel proud. Another friend commented right after that stating that she smelt a blog post coming on. I couldn’t agree more.

So here it goes, a list of everything that I’ve done with my first 30 years of life.

At age 6 I had my first story published. Granted it was just in the Mount Forest Public School yearbook, but I do recall my teachers telling my mom but a grade one student never been published in the yearbook previously. It was sometime around that point that I knew I wanted to be a writer.

Sometime in the third grade I wrote my first song. I’m sure it was terrible. But hey, I wrote a song at age 8.

At age 12 I joined the school paper. This was a very proud moment for me, because they had never had a writer from the junior high grades. Our school paper was a two page spread in the town’s paper. Which meant at age 12, I was published in the town paper. I went on to have an article published in nearly every biweekly edition of that paper for the following 7 years.

At age 14 I sought out therapy and counseling for the first time in my life. I did so without my parents knowledge. I was overcoming and still living in an abusive household with my ex-stepfather. I felt mature enough to make the decision to get help on my own. So proud of that.

At age 15 I finally fully stood up to that ex-stepfather. After he left the house one evening, I handed the phone to my mother, and sat beside her. Together we called the cops and made the initial steps to regain our lives.

At age 16, I became editor of the school’s paper and became an intern for the town’s paper itself. I also became president of our schools chapter of Ontario Students Against Impaired Driving and joined the local chapter of MADD, as their first ever student member. I had actually continued working with MADD actively until Lilly was born. I will get back into it again when the kids are a bit older.

At age 17, in grade 11, I was given the Ontario Principal Award for Student Leadership. This is an award that is only supposed to be given to graduating students, which I was not. My principal felt that my involvement in the school was worthy of the award early.

By age 18 I had met my soul mate. I know it’s not all that common for many people to meet the love of their life in high school, but I did. I knew what I had and I was not letting go of that man. Being together at such a young age was tough. Staying together through all the changes of our early 20s was even harder. But we look at each other now and I know we both know it was worth it.

Teenagers in love. One year into dating.

At age 19 I graduated high school and got the heck out of Mount Forest. I’m counting this is an accomplishment because for me it was a long time coming. It’s nice to go back now and visit with friends and family, but that town signified a place that unfortunately had a lot of bad memories for me, and I couldn’t wait to get out.

Also at age 19, I fully came to terms with what had happened to me as a young girl. I finally admitted the acts of molestation to my immediate family and went back into therapy to deal with it. I count this as an accomplishment because it took a hell of a lot of courage.

In my first year of college there was a leadership convention at our campus. One student from every course was selected to be able to attend the convention. I was selected as the one student in my program. It was an incredible convention. Something I’ll never forget.

At age 20, the summer between my two years of college, I traveled with Free The Children and Leaders Today (now Me To We) to Kenya for a month. There, I taught English to students in the morning and helped to build them a new school in the afternoons. It was honestly one of the most life altering experiences I’ve ever had.

Relaxing at recess with a few of the school kids.

At age 21, I graduated college as one of the top students in my entire program. This was a big accomplishment, because as involved as I was in high school, my grades were terrible. I just didn’t care. However, getting away from that town and learning about something I was interested in, made all the difference. It showed me that I was more than smart enough, as long as I applied myself.

At age 22, I married my best friend. We were young. We were the first of our friends to get married. It was a big step, but it was the right step. Right before we got married, we also bought our first home. That was nerve wracking, but really solidified that feeling of being an adult and starting the next chapter of life.

Our Wedding Day!

At 23, I started working for a small, environmentally friendly start-up as their sole employee. The 5 years that followed were grueling, but honestly, I did things to help launch that company that I never thought I could do. I learned more than I ever could have imagined.

At age 24, upon learning that my ex-stepfather had a daughter with his new wife, I went to the police with my whole story for the first time. I still remember how much I was shaking while giving my statement. When we had him arrested nearly 10 years prior, I had only admitted to the abusive nature of his discipline style. I kept the molestation to myself for years. The cops took my statement and approached him. It was the first and only time he has been confronted on it. The officer that confronted him told me that he cried like “someone who had their hand caught in the cookie jar. He acted like a guilty man.”  I don’t need to pursue it further, but from that point he officially knew that I had not forgotten what he did to me and I never will.

At the tender age of 25, I became the Federal Riding President for the Simcoe North NDP. I was overwhelmed and scared crapless…but I did it! I held onto my presidency until just this past fall. With baby #2 on the way, it was time to hand over the reigns. Being that involved in politics is something I will continue to do. I want my children to see that involvement.

Meeting Jack Layton in Halifax, summer 2009.

At age 26, I had the biggest accomplishment of my life. I became a mother. I brought a human life into the world. I remember being utterly terrified going into labour and then just feeling like it was so natural and as if it was something I was always meant to do. The following few months were a learning curve as a parent, but I have an incredible 3 year old little girl who is smart, witty and so full of life. I still look at her completely awe struck and think, “holy crap, I made that.”

So tiny and so perfect.

At age 27, after nearly 8 years of writing/marketing only for the corporate world, I started this blog. It may not seem like a big accomplishment, but it was a move to help me reclaim my voice and ultimately avoid writer’s burn out. I blog about everything and refuse to choose a niche. This is my space, for me and I have worked hard to slowly build it over the past 2.5 years.

At age 29, I was published in Canadian Family Magazine. This one was HUGE. Being published in a national magazine was on the unwritten bucket list. I still carry a copy of that magazine with me every. single. day. in my computer bag. I can’t miss an opportunity to show someone my name in national print!

I truly hope to have more of this in my future.

Also at age 29, I enrolled in university. This has been challenging only because I found out I was pregnant a week after the course started. Doing a very self-motivated based course when your body wants to sleep at 7pm can be tough. I’ve had to get an extension, but I will be wrapping it up in the next 6 weeks before our little man arrives.

Now, at age 30, I am about to have become a mother for the 2nd time. We have faced some big ups and downs with this pregnancy and it has been trying, but I know it is all completely worth it. I can’t wait to meet our son in just a few short weeks and grow our family.

Growing our family!

Here’s to the next 30 years. Ideally speaking, they will be filled with even more accomplishments and happy memories.

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The hands-on workshop that I did at BlissDom Canada in October, was about change. It was about defining who you are, and what you stand for. When I saw this workshop on the agenda, I knew it was something that I had to do. I have often felt that I can easily be pulled in a million directions. I have a hard time saying no and not getting involved or taking on more than I can likely handle. I lack focus, even in the things I believe in. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it is something I want to manage better.

During the workshop, we were asked to develop a tagline. Our tagline. Not one for our business, but for who we are as people. I went into the exercise maintaining most of the tagline you see up in my blog header. That I always want to look at the world from my point of view; mildly naïve and wildly idealistic.

Over the course of the session, we went through various exercises to help define what our tagline really is. Are we living up to that timeline? What obstacles are standing in our way, and preventing us from completely being that person?

I went in knowing that I would like to do more advocacy for children’s rights. Being a child abuse survivor myself, I would like to help create a voice for fellow victims and preserve their right to remain positive for their future. The exercises during the session forced us to speak honestly and out loud about how we feel. We had to mingle with fellow participants and tell them what we think and what we believe in. I came out an advocate.

I stand for the innocence in the world.

I stand for the innocence of the world because it deserves to be preserved. Every individual has the right to dream and imagine, no matter what life tosses at them. I am not shy about my past. I am open with the fact that my childhood was filled with abuse and molestation that I had to overcome. That wasn’t an easy road. It still gets hard from time to time. However, I still look at life with a glass half full approach. I am still optimistic.

I want to fight for that innocence and optimism. I want to nurture it in those who may be struggling to hold onto it. I want kids to know that they have a right to be mildly naïve and wildly idealistic, despite what life may throw at them. I want to reach out to fellow child abuse survivors, to bully victims, the child soldiers and so many more.

I want to tell them that nobody can take their innocence. Nobody can break it. Not if we don’t let them.

I have been giving some thought on how to get more involved for a while now. I have blogged before on behalf of organizations such as Kids Help Phone or Big Brothers Big Sisters. I have traveled with and blogged about Free The Children and Me to We. Organizations that strive to improve the lives of children here at home and all around our world have always be close to my heart.

I want to find a way to become more consistently involved. To use this voice in an even larger way.

Honestly, just as the case is with many people, finding the time to get involved in various causes can be difficult. However, I feel it is important to the legacy I build in my children’s eyes and the impact I can have around me.

How do I know this example can have an impact? Because I know where I get this drive. I grew up watching my mom volunteer with hospice, local women’s shelters and around our community. She worked in a nursing home and as soon as I was old enough, she brought me with her many days to read to the residents. This is the example I grew up with. A strong, caring and motivated women who has always had a passion for giving to others.

So this is me, putting it out there for the whole internet to see. I declare my intent to do more with my voice. I vow to get in touch with my inner self from 10 years ago. That girl who had the passion and drive to get involved and change the world.

I stand for the innocence in the world. Ideally speaking, I can inspire others to do the same.

What is your tagline for life? What do you stand for or represent? I’d love to hear – sound off in the comments below.

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