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- Healing Doesn't Have a Finish Line
Healing Doesn't Have a Finish Line
Survivor to Thriver Coaching, LLC
I was a victim of sexual abuse at the age of 15.
It was my boss at the tile store where I worked.
I’ve accepted that this happened to me.
It’s always going to be part of who I am.
I can’t go back and change it.
Not the day my cousin and I walked home from school, not the moment I stepped into that store to apply for a job.
Nothing I do will ever rewrite that chapter.
It’s here to stay.
But what I can do is align my choices in this moment with the person I want to continue becoming.
I still can’t believe someone could do that to another human being.
The worst part?
Most of these crimes go unreported.
I was probably one of the rare ones who did report it.
And even then, I only did it after struggling in silence.
I was lucky to receive the support and outcome I hoped for.
But that didn’t make it easier.
The abuse tore me apart on the inside.
At first, I didn’t even feel the pain, I was probably in shock.
But as time passed, it began rotting me from the inside out.
I didn’t know who I was.
I didn’t like who I was.
I felt scared all the time.
Insecure.
Broken.
It happened my senior year of high school.
Arguably one of the most important seasons of life.
And while everyone else was focused on prom and graduation,
I was drowning in silence.
For a long time, I didn’t tell anyone.
Then I went from complete silence to spilling my guts in front of a judge, a jury, and a room full of strangers.
I was cross-examined by a lawyer
Who tried to poke holes in my truth.
And here’s what I want every survivor to know:
Putting someone behind bars doesn’t mean you get your peace back.
I thought it would make things “normal.”
I thought I’d finally be okay.
But that was a lie I told myself.
If you turn your back on the work after one big victory, it will come back to bite you.
You can’t talk about it once, see a therapist for a few months, or write a journal entry every now and then and think that’s enough.
This kind of trauma causes deep damage.
And deep wounds take time.
Not just time, they take consistency.
Healing isn’t a one-time event.
It’s a daily decision.
I questioned everything about myself.
At one point, I even questioned my sexuality.
I thought maybe I didn’t stop it because I liked it.
Maybe I was gay.
Maybe something was wrong with me.
That’s what abuse does to your mind.
It makes you doubt your own reality.
It makes you feel like it was somehow your fault.
It wasn’t.
It never is.
There were so many times I wanted to give up.
Ending it all would have been easier than facing this pain.
But something always held me back.
I truly believe God was watching over me.
There was still a little fire left inside me, barely flickering, but alive.
That fire wanted to fight.
Even today, when the memories come up, I still feel a twinge of hesitation.
That urge to shrink back into the trauma hole.
But I remind myself why I speak.
Why I write.
Why I share.
Because when I give in to the silence, trauma wins.
I write to keep healing.
I write to give others permission to do the same.
We are not the freaks.
We shouldn’t have to hide.
We shouldn’t carry the shame for what someone else did.
Our silence keeps us sick.
Our stories help us heal and they help others heal too.
Don't be fooled by the good days, weeks, or even months.
You cannot escape the basics:
Accept what happened.
Acknowledge what it did to you.
And decide, every single day, to keep going.
You have something to offer, to yourself and to the world.
When we share our stories, we make the world a safer place to be real.
To speak.
To feel.
To heal.
The fight continues.
And life, Life is still worth fighting for.
Stay positive and take action!
Thank you for your support!
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