If not for the constant reminder of those days that smacks me in the face as soon as I open my eyes each morning, I may have found the strength to put this all behind me.
Molested at the age of twelve, raped at fifteen, and sold to human traffickers at the age of eighteen, contracting Tropical Spastic Paraparesis – ultimately confining me to my bed. Humiliation, guilt, and shame kept me silent.
My passion, dancing, stolen from me.
When I was fifty-eight (five years ago), I became suicidal due to years of trauma and nightmares. I had no desire to speak to anyone face to face so I reached out to the internet seeking help. No matter what time of the day it was, there was no one that I could talk with, so I sent out emails or filled out forms.
The only website that responded to me sent me an email asking me for a donation, hardly the way to open up a victim’s heart to want to have any further communication.
Informative websites such as The Polaris Project only provide referrals. Unable to find a site that offered a live contact twenty-four hours a day only led me to more hopelessness.
People have mentioned that my faith should be enough. They lack understanding. Then, a friend suggested that I “vomit” all the horrors that lived inside of me onto paper. I did. It has put me on the road to healing.
I realize now that I am a lucky girl. Less than one percent of human trafficking victims are found. I have made it my mission to add my voice to the many other voices fighting to end human trafficking and sexual violence.
I pray that my soon-to-be-published book will not only enlighten many of the domino effect that trauma wreaks on a life, but also give hope. Now, by the grace of God –
Nothing will silence this woman’s voice again.
“Your writing matters as much as the hard labor others do. You teach us all through your words the value of helping other human beings through tragedy.” author unknown
Categories: My Memoir