I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and incest. I had a very traumatic childhood. I was born hearing impaired. Had 10 surgeries from 6-10 on my ears. Raped at 7 by a 17 yr old cousin. Issues with my moms first husband under the age of 2, not knowing the full extent of abuse from him. But a lot of trauma. At the age of 9 he came to visit, he French kissed me with alcohol and cigarette smoke on his breath. The smell of old spice all together, are triggers for me. Hate the smells. Also, he tried to kidnap me from school on several occasions, but was unsuccessful. While pursuing my life dream career as a police officer, I saw his name in the detectives office. As the the top of the list on the board for most dangerous person in Ontario. He was a biker, and a mean one. I was terrified they’d find out I was his bio daughter. I later found out he wasn’t my bio dad. I always felt I was the child of Satan. Great thing about growing up in a small town, lots of friends and life long ties. I was adopted at 2.5 by an amazing man, he was my rock. 2 of the 4 marriages my mom had were to very good men. Thank God, I married a good man. He is a little of both of them. My children are so blessed, to have not known about abuse personally. My house burned down twice as a child. I was emotionally and physically abused by my mother all of my childhood. She was an alcoholic. When I was in my teens, I drank and partied with friends. I was raped while passed out. When I was 26, I was hit head on by a drunk driver while I was In college for nursing. My mom had completed her first yr of sobriety, and was attending the family program. I was told, I may never walk again on my left foot. I was walking in 9 months. Stubborn like my mom. When I had my first child at 27. I looked at my husband, and said I remembered my rape at 7. But I was so happy to have my son. Life changed me. Everything was amazing. Love healed me. Then I had my second daughter, Doctor didn’t catch her at birth. She had a severe neck injury. She lived for 64 days. Losing her was losing my childhood all over again. But I got pregnant and a yr later I had my 3rd child. A girl. My mom held my Michaela while she died, and delivered Chelsea-Michaela. Then 4 months later, I found my moms daughter, my sister, my mom gave up for adoption. My mom got pregnant at 14, against her will. When my mom went to rehab, I forgave her for everything. She deserved to be in her grandchildren a lives. Forgiveness was a gift I gave to myself. I’ve spent the last 20 yrs growing up with my children, loving every minute. When my children were 1 and 4, I got a settlement from my accident. I used it to start my charity, at the time it was called “Save The Children, Stop Sexual Abuse”. 4 yrs into my charity, I was sued by Save The Children International and Canadian. They were afraid someone would donate to the wrong charity. And a lawyer from MBM Law Firm in Ottawa called and represented me pro bono. I had to change my name. Secrets “Protect Our Children, Stop Sexual Abuse” it would be. 2018, I’m in my 17th yr. and I’m inspired everyday by amazing heroes and Sheroes. Life is crazy beautiful. Education, prevention, raising awareness, empowerment, and promoting healing is our goals. I love my life, and helping others, helped me to heal from my childhood and trauma. Today, I help victims anyway I can. I pray a lot. And I love my children. Everyone has a story. By sharing, we empower others. We are not alone. There is no shame in your story. Please share it, to inspire others 💓 Love

In early spring of 1997, Watertown, South Dakota, my hometown, was facing one of the biggest floods known to the community. It engulfed homes. The flood waters forced countless families out of their homes. In the tragedy of it all, the community came together. They began filling and placing sandbags to prevent the rising waters from reaching more homes and businesses. Countless times people wanted to give up, let the waters in, because simply, it was easier. I envision my childhood much like a home surrounded by the water. There is nothing able to be saved by the way it looks. Help can be standing 20 feet on the solid ground outside, but unable to reach me. It appears as though whoever was in the home at the time the flood waters rose, was able to get to safety. They never thought to investigate further, if they had, they would have found and helped me. The waters just kept coming in. There is no stopping them. My emotions locked inside and no way to reach them. The water rises higher and faster. Before I know it, my emotions and childhood are trapped. I worked tirelessly filling sandbags, reaching my hand out for someone to come help me. It was too late. The havoc-destruction-devastation caused by this flood is the same feelings I experienced growing up being sexually abused as a child. And I know many other survivors have went through trials similar to mine. I am an incest survivor. I continue to heal each and every day with the help of God, my family, friends, and the amazing advocates I have come to know. I don’t recall all of the details, but I do remember before I was in grade school another older female cousin of mine would have me perform oral penetration on her. I remember I did not like the smell, or the taste. It felt as though I had to go through with it though, or she may tell on me and I did not want to get into trouble. This occurred at least a dozen times. It was always at her house, never mine. I was next abused by my brother. I was in the third grade. It may have started before this, but this is the earliest memory I have. I was so unsure of what was happening. All I knew is I did not want him to not love me, or to beat on me. As the sexual and physical abuse was something normal for him to do almost daily. He blamed me for the abuse. I remember telling my “big sister” from the Big Brother Big Sisters program I was involved in through the Boys and girls Club. She then turned it in to authorities. They came to my school and talked to me….pulled my mom out of work and talked to her. At home later that night…I sat atop the steps while my parents questioned my brother and frequently I heard him saying “She made me do it.” I felt ashamed….I felt dirty….I felt sick…I felt as though I had been thrown down into a hole dug six feet down under, dirt and rocks hurled at me as I lay there crying out tears, but no one could see or hear me….I was too far away. He touched my privates…he groped me in the middle of the night…I prayed this was the end….boy was I wrong. I felt as though God didn’t love me, that he failed and left me. I was all alone. For a very long time, I blamed my parents for allowing the abuse to continue, even after it was brought to authorities attention. It felt as though they chose a side in all of it, and I wasn’t worthy of being fought for or believed. I felt like the dirty torn apart shop rag thrown into the corner, waiting for someone to sweep it up into the trash. How was I not better than the rag in the trash? My cousin/best friend was also abused by my brother. Her and I are the same age. Thankfully, she was practically one of the only people who believed me the abuse happened and continued to happen. When I would try to express concern to others about leaving their daughters alone with him, I would get told, “Oh, Stop, you are just holding a grudge. He is a big teddy bear.” This made me so angry. I prayed he did not ever steal any other persons innocence, as he stole mine. My heart hurts deeply to admit, but this also led to her and I engaging in oral penetration on each other. I believe there were sometimes we also physically penetrated each other. I always excused this away as we were comforting each other. I know it doesn’t excuse or make any of it right, but it is how I rationalized things in my mind. She was afraid to spend the night with me because my brother would abuse her. I wanted her to stay over so I could avoid being victimized for once. I carried around so much guilt and shame for this. It progressed from there….eventually to him performing oral sex…and penetration. I dreaded sleeping. His abuse didn’t just progress for me, but my cousin as well. Even though we both were going through Hell, neither of us spoke of what had happened. We were both the youngest of our families, and did not want to cause trouble for anyone. So we kept this heavy-boulder-mountain of a secret to ourselves. I came to despise my brother, from whom I should have felt love and protection by. I couldn’t call out for help…no one would believe me…or hear me anyway. I remember a time there were many of us gathered at my grandparents house. It must have been some sort of holiday. The adults were in the kitchen and dining room. The kids were supposed to be asleep in

As a five or six year old, my parents worked hard. I was left with my dad’s parents’. My uncle started molesting me. Then soon after, so did two of my oldest cousins. I remember this going on until I was twelve. I found out what was happening to me from an encyclopedia. I knew it was scary,  hurt, and left me feeling all alone. Never thinking once about telling anyone. My grandparents fought. My granddad, was scary with butcher knives, either at me, or the latest dog’s tail. Just for fun. My dad abused my mom, when he was drinking. Many nights we were running anywhere for help, or putting furniture against my bedroom door just to keep him out. My mom couldn’t stand to have me around any other time, as long as I was away from her, she was happy, if she was home. I became an addict as soon as possible. It seemed comfortable. More than ever,  I felt comfortable. As a child, I heard voices, felt people coming after me….all the time. Even seeing them at times. Alcohol,  drugs of other kinds,  gave me reasons for these things to be happening. That was my reasoning. I have made peace with my abuse. I am clean and sober now, since August 28th,  2011. One of my abusers is dead. One lives on, and one still lives a screwed up life. ..in my opinion. Saying that, I guess it affects one different than the other. Me, I’m not sure I honestly will ever be free from it all, but I don’t really want to be. It’s part of me. One of my chapters. One of my stories. Thank you.