I think the best version of ourselves is, what we come out as on the other side. All the darkness and hardships that shaped who we are today. I think our best version of ourselves is when we can look back on our life and see how much we’ve grown and what we’ve been through to get here, and be humbled by it. Also knowing that we still have a long way to go; so much more to learn. Knowing that no one is perfect but it’s the way we evolve from our mistakes that tells the story of who we are. I think our best self happens when we learn to accept who we are and love ourselves. When we are not willing to take less then what we deserve. The best version of ourselves, is when we can be completely ourselves without a care, no remorse or caring what someone might think. When we can truly love ourselves, our capacity of love for others can be infinite.

Life is hard. I often find myself wondering, why I’ve had to endure all that I have, so early on in life. I wonder if all of this pain has made me stronger or if it’s just desensitized me. I wonder just how much these hard ships have shaped me. Did they make me who I am or was I going to end up being this person in the end anyways? Have I turned into someone that I am proud of and do I know what I want going forward? Am I ready to move forward? All of these questions going through my mind almost all of the time. Those and so much more.

At the end of the day though, is it healthy to sit here and dwell on all these things. Anxiety ridden day after day because I’m always questioning if whether or not I’m good enough. Am I? Whether or not I deserve love. Do I? I don’t think it is healthy. I think that sometimes dwelling too much on all of this, ultimately makes me more miserable, unhappy and prone to emotional outbursts of anxiety. I don’t know, it is really hard figuring it all out.

Navigating everyday is sometimes brutal for me. I don’t feel like I’ve had time to get over one tragedy before I’m hit with another. A lot of the time it feels as though, I’m where I’m ready to move forward and I’m finally feeling happy and at peace; that’s when it seems to strike and then everything else comes back with it. I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of wondering whats coming next. What kind of tragedy is going to take me down in a few months? Its a terrible feeling. Every time someone I love leaves for long periods of time, I’m afraid. I’m afraid I won’t see them again. I’m afraid that I won’t get to tell them how much I love and adore them. How much they impacted my life. I love my family and friends with every part of me, so every time I lose one of them, I also lose a piece of myself and I’m not sure who’s going to come out the other side.

One of the things that has kept me going are my kids. Through every thing, at the end of the day, I know that they need me. And they deserve 100% of me. That’s what I intend on giving them. So I keep pushing, I keep fighting and I keep surviving no matter what. And not just for them, it’s for me too. I may not have it all figured out but what I do know is, I am a strong women and my boy’s and I will be just fine.

My Uncle died today. In the past 6 months my family has suffered through 3 losses. A year and a half before that, 3 losses as well plus my common law husband. And none of them have been peaceful. Just tragic. Heart attacks, strokes, cancer, caught in a storm on, The Great Slave Lake. Just sudden an out of no where. With each loss I lose a piece of myself. If I get that piece back it will not be the same. It will be altered but whether it returns or not, every piece that stays changes me. At this moment in time I’m not sure what the point is anymore. At this moment in time I’m back to wondering, what is the fucking point? But my Uncle Jason, he waited for me come and I didn’t. I know he’s not mad at me. But I feel like I let him down. But I know that if I quit now, I will be letting him down for sure. He didn’t help raise me and give me his knowledge for nothing. My Uncle, regardless of his downfalls, is one of the greatest men I know. Along with a few other great men he has passed to the other side. He gets to be with his momma now. I bet she came to get him personally. I love all of you. Granny, Aunty Margaret, Joseph, Grandpa, Uncle Stacy and now Uncle Jason.

I haven’t written here in a while. I’ve had a lot going on. A story for another time. Today was rough. I know I have problems. I get angry fast. I take that anger out on the wrong people sometimes simply because they are there. I get so angry that I just cry because I can’t so anything else. I want to punch holes in the walls, rip the doors off the hinges, I imagine hurting people even sometimes. It’s hard but I’ve gained better control over my physical anger. Today when I wanted to break everything, I broke nothing. I just sat on the couch and screamed and cried and tried to calm down. In the end I won. So I’m learning and growing. I still have not left home, even if we weren’t on quarantine I wouldn’t want to. I’m still not brave enough to go out not knowing who hurt me. The good news is I’ve secured a new home and am moving in a few weeks so I will be able to have a fresh start in a new city, feel safe in my own house and neighborhood. Two more weeks and its moving day!

Today was my, dead common law husband, and my anniversary. I imagine that triggered my episode today. Hopefully tomorrow its business as usual and I can just have a happy and calm day! I’m not a bad person, I’m just having a hard time wrestling with my mind. It is no excuse though. I will do better.

Well, I can’t sleep. Since recieving the disclosure, the events of that night keep playing through my mind over and over. My inner voice trying to pull up the memories that are hiding in the darkest, depths of my mind. I’m sitting here stating at my white blanket thinking, “remember, just remember. Why can’t you just remember.” If I could remember what happened things would be so much easier. I wouldn’t be reliving that night over and over, driving myself crazy and unable to sleep. I would know.

I’m right back where I started. I thought I was starting to heal and I feel helpless again. I want to cry and keep crying. I want to curl up and hide myself away in the darkest corner of my closet. I want to run away but I know that I can’t. I must push forward and keep fighting because I’m not just fighting for myself. I’m fighting for anyone who’s been in my position and anyone who end up in it. So, let the healing process begin again.

It’s like its happening all over again. As read the word on the paper. They gave me my disclosure today. All their notes and evidence against me. The things they said, the picture they tried to paint. Like I was some kind of alcoholic. But as read through their statements, in their words I could see all the signs they missed. Everything they overlooked when I was arrested. How they could have helped me figure out I was raped a lot sooner but instead wanted to treat me like a drunk. If they had paid attention they would have seen the signs, they would have seen that something was wrong and maybe helped me instead of making it worse. I went looking for help and was instead judged by my appearance. I was immediately labeled and now I will suffer more because of it.

Pieces lost, written in their own words.

So my healing process is at a stand still. I can leave the house for 4 hours at a time but only in an enclosed vehicle. I feel like if I move out of this neighbourhood, out if this city, that it might help. I want so bad to move on that, the fact I’m having a hard time finding a new place, is really bringing me down. I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t take a year off of work to heal like I had planned. I have to go back. If I want to move and move on, I need to go back to work because I don’t get to get Mommies help. Even when I ask for it and I need it. So I asked; I had support within reach. She was going to come with me. And then it just slipped away. Some people are just more important I guess. Must be nice to have support and help. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had the pleasure of being on the recieving end. Maybe this is just self pity or maybe I feel like I’m constantly being left behind because I am. I am absolutely and utterly depressed. And I don’t know where to turn.

I haven’t written in a bit. Not that it matters. No ones reading haha. In any case. There has really been no change. No footage at the bar because they only hold it for 48 hours. Now I wait and see if we get any DNA evidence. If not then we are at a dead end unless I remember something. Which isn’t likely to to happen. I shared my story with all my family and friends, using the biggest platform I could think of. It suppose to be a part of the healing process, to talk about what happened to you. Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s working or not. At the moment I’ve still only left the house a handful of times, in just over a month now. I guess time will tell. I’ve been trying to keep my.mond occupied. Drawing, dancing, singing. Fixing stuff……..anyways. Wait and see what happens 🤷‍♀️ hopefully I can move forward and maybe take the next step soon.

Tonight, sometime after 11pm, marks one month from the incident that shattered my soul. Broke me from the inside.

So I’ve barley left my house in the last month. Ever since that monster took my dignity, I’ve left maybe twice. Today I had no choice. I had to go in for finger printing today or have a warrant for my arrest. And they would know where to find me considering I’m too scares to leave my house. It’s gotten to the point that on the day I’m suppose to go get stuff done, I start freaking out as soon as wake up. Horrible, gut wrenching anxiety. I can’t breath. I get this sinking feeling. Then nausea. Followed by numbness of my limbs as well as my face. Just a feeling of emptiness a utter fear, curled up in the tub while the shower rains down on me type of anxiety. And I’m freaking out. Crying and imagining only the worst things are going to happen. It’s a horrible feeling. I do that any day I’m suppose to get out of the house. And almost every time I back out and have my mother deal with all my shit. I don’t like the idea that I could be walking past my rapist and not know it because I have no memory. That’s scary. Its debilitating. Mind numbing. I just shut down sometimes.

Anyways, I took two clanazopam to help calm me down, so I could at least not be freaking out at the station. I tripped balls all the way there, I even told a few people I was going to knock them the fuck out. Like, my mind was just racing and couldn’t process a complete thought. I was lost and out of my comfort zone. By the time we got downtown my medication kicked in and I didn’t feel so out of control. I experienced minor anxiety while inside as there wasn’t many people and I had requested that a female be present during fingerprinting. That helped. To top it off, the gentleman and the lady doing the printing, were very helpful in giving me advise on my case. So all in all it was okay. My medication worked its magic and I did what I needed to do.

I feel like I took a big step today,although forced, I took it. And I made it through the other side. And I’m stronger for it. Now I just have to get through the appointment with my lawyer today. Fingers crossed I blank out and lose it. Two outings in one day would be a feat for me right now, considering how long I’ve been cooped up in my house. I’m going to make this happen. I’m going to get over all my shit and finally be me again. It will be a journey. A straight up adventure. And at the end of it I’ll be stronger then ever. Just wait and see. You’ll see.