Roses are Red, Violets are Blue....

Trigger Warning: In the post below, I talk about the personal traumas I experienced and this can be triggering to some. My hope and prayer through sharing this, is that you will feel a sense of peace and know you are loved; you are not "unlovable" or "unfixable." I see you and honor your path that led you here. Always remember to please always seek professional help, we are not meant to do this alone. If you need resources, this LINK shares couple of resources and free care to those who are in search of it.

I felt a pinging in my heart to share my story. As always, thank you for letting me share me.

I think my story starts out like alot of other normal, small-town, teen girl stories. I didn't experience my first kiss until my first year of high school. I was a freshman, he was a sophomore. He was on varsity track and could drive, I was a shy band girl who didn't really fit in anywhere... we had biology together and he walked me to my locker and that is where he kissed me. It was a Taylor Swift song in the making... Yet, I remember walking away and instead of feeling excited...I felt shame. Alot of it.

"Larry" we'll call him, was nice as he could be when we started dating. We held hands in the hallway, he walked me to class and drove me to and from school some days, and I lived across town so that was a big deal to a girl like me. I wore his Lettersman jacket...OOHHH! He must really like me. Early on he told me he didn't really believe in God and well, that was a no go...I told him to date me my parents needed him to go to church with us at least once...looking back not quite sure what this accomplished, but he agreed and I remember that same exact feeling I felt when he kissed me was there when I took him to church. AMBER'S MIND: "I kissed him, how could I bring him with me? They will all know. I will be called a slut, or worse, what am I going to tell my husband? Does this mean I have to marry him"

...oh the thoughts of a teenage girls brain.

We "date" for about three months before things start becoming toxic. I say "date" because it isn't like we went on romantic dates or did anything really. Most of my memories are us at his house as he played video games or going to meet up with our friends at the park, basically, anywhere but my house. My memory over the next year is spotty. I have yet to fully unlock that part of my life yet. I know he got angry with me alot, I know we broke up alot, then he'd apologize, I would believe him when he said he would never do it again and for a week or so he was better than the cycle continued....until it escalated.

I was 14 the first time "Larry" was physical towards me.

Here is the problem with memories...they are snapshots in time created by our perceptions of reality. Did how I remember it mean it actually happened that way? Am I overexaggerating it in my mind? Did I provoke it or worse, deserve it?

After the first time, I broke up with him, swore I would never see him agian...yet there he was in my biology class, begging to see me after class, apologizing. He asked to take me home and we'd end up at the park and this is where kissing turned into "second base," I wanted to believe he liked me, is this what that meant?

See, growing up Southern Baptist I was in church alot and the thing most of you know is sex before marriage...well, see, that's the thing, it wasn't really talked about other than this: "God didn't intend it that way." I specifically remember hearing my Youth Pastor tell us, my virginity was like a pearl necklace and every time I kissed a boy, KISS mind you, a pearl is taken away and how do I want my pearl necklace to look when I get married and give that to my husband." To this day that is a phrase I battle with... don't even get started with the subject of masturbation...post for another day! But wait...what does second base mean to my pearl necklace?

We never had sex, but I know we got close. I don't ever remember saying yes. I don't remember saying no. He swore he loved me...after every fight. He swore. Shit, here is that feeling again...another pearl, gone. This is where I learned sex, even the leading up to it, was a tool.

I sunk into a deep depression that year. I hated my bubblegum pink room; I hated what it represented. Such a naive girl loved that room... I spent any time at home in my room, door closed and in tears. Filled with shame. I couldn't go to my parents...what would they think. They'd probably kick me out. Disown me. It was those thoughts that caused such a rift, one that is still healing to this day with my parents. My parents were at a loss. I eventually "move" out, by that I mean stay at a friends for a week...by the time my mom coaxes me back home; it is the summer before my sophomore year and I am grounded from pretty much everything. Phone, internet, hanging out with friends. to an almost 15 year old...I basically am a hostage in my own home. So what do I do; I steal my sister's friends phone..call Larry, cause back then you memorized people's numbers still, and told him to come find me, I would be walking to his house...

I jumped out my second-story window and away I went with $5 in my bag. Major flaw in my plan....I had never actually gone there myself. He had always driven...

He didn't find me, the cops did. They took me home and to this day I will never forget this:

Cop: "You know, young lady, we have better things to be doing at 2 a.m. than picking up a little girl bein' where she ain't suppose to be"

Me: "oh yah, like what? Eatin' donuts?" Pissed off Amber storms off to her room without a word to her parents.

The next day my parents took me to UBH, or the University of Behavioral Health, the place that changed my life. (A post for another day, but also a big reason why I believe professional help is so crucial on the road to recovery and healing)

UBH wasn't an immediate fix, I went back to school for my sophomore year and immediately fell back into old habits. But somehow, some way, my dad swears I walked up to him just before Christmas that year and told him, "that is it, I am done." And I never really talked to Larry again....

I tell you all this because the habits, traits, cycles I went through with "Larry" are ones I am still un-learning, are still healing from every day. Healing isn't linear...it isn't a destination that one day you arrive at and say "oh, yep...I am completely 100% healed and life is dandy and here is my gold medal for reaching the finish line" No, it is more like a parking garage... every time you get to a level of healing; you are asked to dig deeper, heal a larger part of yourself and that healing leads to growth and that growth leads to prosperity and the ability to be doing exactly what I am doing now; sharing and loving on others so hopefully that can heal too.

Here is the truth:

After Larry, I am known as the "crazy" one in my family.

After Larry, I was purposely manipulated, fed copious amounts of alcohol and sexually assaulted by a close friend and two of his friends.

After Larry, I found a love, a version of it, but that love turned toxic and was used to manipulate me into carrying on a two+ year affair as the "other woman."

After Larry, I had an abortion.

After Larry, I failed as a friend...many many times.

After Larry, I used sex as a way to not feel alone, to cover my insecurities, to hide my pain and damn well make sure I wasn't the one being used.

See, here is the problem with memories...they are snapshots in time created by our perceptions of reality. Did how I remember it mean it actually happened that way? Am I overexaggerating it in my mind? Did I provoke it, or worse, deserve it?

Perception does shape our reality but that doesn't make our reality any less real.

There is no more after Larry. This year I take back my life. This year I claim my past as my own. It does not make me unworthy, it does not make me unlovable. I am proof.

Here is the truth:

I am love.

I am loved.

I am at peace.

I am strong.

I am full of light.

I have the heart of a warrior.

I love love.

I have everything to offer.

I deserve goodness and unending joy.

My dreams are worthy.

I am worthy.

I am a daughter.

I am a sister.

I am a best friend.

I am whole and complete as me.

That is how I am choosing to define ME. How are you choosing to define you? I am proof you are not alone. As scary as this world can be, you are not alone. I am proof; you are worthy. WE are worthy. Check out my "ASPIRATIONS" page and tell me how are you choosing to define you?

With Peace & Love, always,

-A