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Beauty, perfection and millions of likes?

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Sexually abused, raped, bullied… can you ever feel good again? Of course!!!

My father was an alcoholic, I was sexually abused by several older boys when I was 6 years old, I was bullied in school, had reading and writing difficulties, got anorexia when I was around 8-9 years old, was raped by two guys when I was 17, ran away from home two weeks after that, was physically and mentally abused for almost two years by my boyfriend (when I was 17-19 years old) and had to go to trial twice before he ended up in jail, my parents died, I had an abortion and the man of my dreams cheated on me. πŸ˜‚ need I go on?

I hated myself and life for almost 30 years before I began improving my thinking about me, about everyone that had ever hurt me and about life. I managed to turn my thinking around and today I feel nothing but appreciation for everyone that ever hurt me and everything that happened to me – because it all inspired me to become the woman I am today. Strong, free, happy, confident and empowered. If I can do it, anyone can.

Being nice and polite is not always right – a painful childhood memory

This is something I have never written about before, and only a few people know about this. When I was around 7 years old I loved taking my teddy bear (actually a panda) out for a walk in my red toy-stroller. My parents allowed me to walk around the block alone, which only took 5-10 minutes. One cold but sunny day when I was out doing this, all alone, a foreign man approached me. I guess he was around 45-50 years old, dark hair and tall. It all happened so quickly. He gestured toward me that he wanted me to come to him, and I wanted to be polite so I obeyed. When I was close to him everything about him changed, he quickly placed his hands on either side of my face and forced my face close to his and kissed me. I still remember his tongue pressing into my mouth and the strong minty flavour of his mouth. I panicked, I was trapped and I didn’t know what to do. No one was around, no one saw us. His car was just a few meters away and he grabbed my hand saing “come” and gently tried to pull me to his car. Somehow I managed to get my hand back, shook my head no and began walking very quickly in the direction of my home. He called after me, as I turned my head to look at him, he gave me a blow kiss in the air and he still gestured that he wanted me to come back to him. I soon began running and tears were streaming down my face. I told my mother what happened the minute I got home and she rushed out to our car and went to find this man. She never did. She went to the police but they never found him either.

In this situation I tried to be nice and polite. I stopped when he approached me and wanted to talk to me. I didn’t scream, kick or bite – I was too chocked and afraid to do anything.

🌹🌹🌹 🌹🌹🌹

The event that happened tonight with the old man who has begun stalking me and who approached me in an uncomfortable way two days ago triggered this memory to return.

Not once did I write about this in my book or on my blog. I think I have only told this to two or three people, and it was probably 10 years ago.

There are millions of memories in my past, just like this one, that I never speak of. I tell people about some of the other things that have happened to me, like that my father was an alcoholic, that I was sexually abused at the age of 6 by three older boys, that I was bullied in school, had reading/writing difficulties, had anorexia, was raped by two boys when I was 17, ran away from home, lived in an abusive relationship for almost two years, my mother died when I was 18, my father died a few years after that and much more.

I kept all these things a secret within me the first 20-something years of my life. Never told anyone what was happening to me. Now that I have begun sharing my story a little (I am 34 years old now) I realize there are so many more pieces in this puzzle, so many more events that I have kept hidden for so long.

It actually feels refreshing to get it out in the open and finally letting it go. I will no longer carry these heavy secrets within my heart, I will let them go and finally be free. ❀ Stay tuned for more memories that I will let go of – which I may choose to share, or not. In either case I will no longer keep them hidden within me, I will open my heart and set them free.

I will no longer sacrify my own wellbeing in order to be kind, polite and well-behaved. I refuse to fit in, I refuse to be ashamed, I refuse to feel guilty, I refuse to blame. Instead I embrace myself, trust myself, value myself, honor myself, support myself and love myself in the process of letting these memories go.

Thank you dear rascal for triggering this memory in me, thank you for inspiring me to once and for all stop being so bloody nice and start valuing and trusting my instinct. 🌹

Why would such a beautiful girl like me hate myself for over 30 years and have no self-esteem? Here is why:

I got such a brilliant question today and here is my answer:

I grew up with an alcoholic father and my parents mentally abused me. I was sexually abused when I was 6 years old by 3 older guys, I was bullied in school, had reading and writing difficulties, had no friends, developed anorexia (an eating disorder) when I was 9 years old, had no friends during my entire school years, was raped by two guys when I was 17, ran away from home two weeks after that because my father’s alcohol abuse was insane and my parents were so verbally mean to me, I ran straight into the arms of a guy who physically and mentally abused me for over two years until he was sentenced to prison for it. During this time my mother died. I had to go through the two trials all alone – I had no one. I was completely alone, no friends and no one in the world that I could talk to. I did not want to live anymore – I even tried to take my own life. Then my father died, I got pregnant and had to make an abortion…and the man of my dreams cheated on me and lied about it for over a year until the truth came out in the most painful way ever… somewhere there, around the age of 24, I decided that enough is enough and I chose to change my thinking. I started working on liking myself. I did it all by myself – I never told ANYONE about any of these things that happened to me in my childhood/teenage years. It was not until I was almost 30 years old I began talking about it.

So, I guess this answers your question on why such a beautiful girl like me, hated myself for almost 30 years and had absolutely no self-esteem 🀣❀

How you FEEL has nothing to do with the way you look. I had my desired, dream body, but I hated myself and had no self-esteem for almost 30 years. Beauty does not mean confidence. You cant see how you feel, it is 100% about your own thinking – and you CAN do something about that. If I could, all by myself, anyone can. 🌹❀

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