kzzt. bleep bloop blop. error 404. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ope. nearly squeaked through a couple months without one of these silly updates. apologies for this one. some deep rooted generational curse breaking of word vomit ahead. appreciate you reading and giving the time, i know it's a precious commodity. i accept that these longform containers are tough to get through, especially when conveying such heavy themes. alas, i soupremely appreciate your time with these. 💜

what a wild couple of months this quickly snowballed into. this journey has been WHACK fam. like, y'all know me and how open i have been over some of the years trying to share and show strength through surviving the hell of my trauma, even annoyingly so at times. so like, over the summer and into august i had really been jiving with my healing process and had genuinely thought i was making some incredible progress now that she's been gone. at least, infinitely better than the distress of my mom's terrifying existence over the past 16 of the 18 years of her incarceration, but even dating before the actual committed crime that i was the damning witness for.

"the other shoe hasn't dropped yet" i kept feeling, and commented a time or two to trey.

and there it was, middle of august, waking up a few nights in a row to distressing nightmares that caused re-traumatizing thoughts of repressed memories of my sexual assault abuses that i survived when i was 7 to 12 with multiple abusers, and then again from 16 to 17. ah, fuck. ok ok ok, well, let's be brutally honest and face this head-on, instead of continuing to bury it, writing the experiences off as deserved or whatever, and thus continuing to play party to protecting a series of damning family secrets that have been buried for far too long. my family was FORTUNATE that my mother's crime in 08 then trial in 09 took center-stage of the dysfunctional drama that permeated the various parties over the 90s and early 2000s.

they're also unfortunate in that that experience singularly spurred me to overcome many other nuanced battles through varied life experiences across the following decades as a result of the cptsd upbringing that the three of her kids suffered. these experiences have dramatically propelled me upon a path of understanding, compassion, and deeper empathy for the pain and struggles of others. through which, i've begun finding my voice, as well. and with that voice borne of the connections i've been fortunate to share with others in this timeline, i've finally found the courage to come forward with my story and share and transmute this pain that has been so preciously buried and protected.

after realizing i needed professional/external help in the matter to comprehend/overcome the pain of it all, i employed the assistance of counseling/advocacy services of a local resource center back in august. i also filed reports with the appropriate authorities at the urgency of others. depressingly, one officer stated "this sounded consensual [at 11-12], so we don't want to take a report". ah yes, one of the reasons why i avoided reporting anything for so long. amongst the other reasons: i deserved it (all); i asked for it; i enjoyed it {somehow, and thus it defined my queer identity so, realistically it is not something i deserve help/therapy/support for}.

after a month of working through this healing process, i tried to use my constitutionally protected right to reach out to the family members that have been at the root of protecting this secret for decades, to seek closure or some sort of resolution regarding the deeply traumatic sexual abuse that i suffered at a young age. they stayed silent, and i expressed my disappointment in them for 1: being silent when my mom died (literally no one in my family has checked on me, el oh el), and 2: being silent now. no threats, no harm promised, no exploitation, no blackmail. simply just wanted an easy/quick resolution but that was too much to ask from them. thus i let them know that i would be working with sexual abuse advocacy to work through it and find the language to share and transmute this story. par for the course with my radically dysfunctional family, they're trying to silence me via the court system and have thus engaged me in a legal battle over my right to speak.

i won't be silenced. i can't be. i've already allowed myself to be silenced out of fear of retaliation for far too long. roughly 77% of cases of sexual abuse go unreported and i don't want to contribute further to such an astoundingly heartbreaking statistic. my existence thus far has been a testament to surviving such a deeply complicated cptsd/traumatic experience that alienates you for the majority of your life; i shall continue to stand as a beacon for other survivors of sexual abuse and traumas who may struggle to find and trust their voice when the voices of those who'd harm them are loudest. i've already allowed my mother's manipulations and brother's threats on my life (twice!) to oppress my experience, to distress and disrupt my journey, to suppress my voice for far too long.

for those who didn't receive love and support from one or both of their parents growing up so they could develop a personal faith in themselves. for those constantly swallowed by the depravity of their truth and always falling through the cracks. for those who could never find their voice. they are why i won't rest nor stay silent any longer. they are the reason i push forward to share and help create a better universe than the way it was left to us. i see you. i hear you.

stay true. be golden. vibe on.

xoxoFel

K.Y.A.L. ♥