Blessed As I Am

During this journey of healing from the abuse and its aftermath, I have noticed that it is one hell of a ride! Of course I knew this, but it is 25 years after the actual sexual abuse came to an end I am still battling the darkness it brought into my life.

At times it feels as if I am strapped to this wheel with my body fully stretched. And as my journey goes, so does the wheel turn. At the lowest part of the wheel there is water, which allows my body to be fully submerged every time the wheel turns and my feet point to the sky. At the beginning of my journey, the water was so high that I only got to breathe whenever my head was at its highest point, up in the air. With my nose just above water level. Gradually the water level subsided. Thankfully so…

At this moment in time the water reaches just above my upper lip. With each turn, I go through a cycle of mental wealth. When I can breathe, all is well and I feel free and empowered. But as my head turns towards the water, darkness starts to creep in and I feel as if all hope is lost. All untill my crown breaks through the water surface and light is able to warm me and guide me to better days.

Although times can be really tough and trying. I am learning to appreciate and love the complete journey with its cycles. Even the moments when I can’t breathe. I am learning about who this Beautiful Queen actually is and what drives her. I am also learning like I mentioned in an earlier blog post, Destined for Greatness, that all this serves a greater purpose.

I created BlessedAsIAm in 2015, 4 years down the road and I can’t be happier with the title. Cause I truly feel Blessed As I Am!


The Root of My Hurt

It all started when I was about 4 years old. This man came into my life. Meant to complete that picture of a traditional family. Be the figure to love me and guide me into building my personal foundation. Lovingly teach me about men and masculinity. Supposedly be the father I never really had…

Instead he chose to show his love and fulfill the fatherly role differently. From a dark place inside himself whether nature or nurture, he made a decision to feed his angry needs. Feeding on a little girl that was me. Depriving me of the positive, loving and constructive fuel that I needed for my base. The base that would be the core from where I could build on and fall back on whenever I faced hardships.

He chose to use my body, mind and soul for nearly a decade. He had his own way of tucking me in at night. As a bedtime story he would tell me how much he loved me, appreciated me and needed me. He would ask if I loved him too… Young as I was I thought this just had to be the way it works. Cause he was “daddy”, the loving father. Deep down I felt there was something wrong. Whenever he needed to nourish his angry needs, he would make it come across as a special moment we shared, a secret just for the two of us.

At the age of 13 I no longer wanted to be part of that secret that  was hurting me and leaving me empty of all the hopes&dreams, love and strength, guidance and protection.

Although I realize it only now while writing…this was the first time I outspokenly chose ME.


The Root of my Hurt

It all started when I was about 4 years old. This man came into my life. Meant to complete that picture of a traditional family. Be the figure to love me and guide me into building my personal foundation. Lovingly teach me about men and masculinity. Supposedly be the father I never really had…

Instead he chose to show his love and fulfill the fatherly role differently. From a dark place inside himself whether nature or nurture, he made a decision to feed his angry needs. Feeding on a little girl that was me. Depriving me of the positive, loving and constructive fuel that I needed for my base. The base that would be the core from where I could build on and fall back on whenever I faced hardships.

He chose to use my body, mind and soul for nearly a decade. He had his own way of tucking me in at night. As a bedtime story he would tell me how much he loved me, appreciated me and needed me. He would ask if I loved him too… Young as I was I thought this just had to be the way it works. Cause he was “daddy”, the loving father. Deep down I felt there was something wrong. Whenever he needed to nourish his angry needs, he would make it come across as a special moment we shared, a secret just for the two of us.

At the age of 13 I no longer wanted to be part of that secret that  was hurting me and leaving me empty of all the hopes&dreams, love and strength, guidance and protection.

Although I realize it only now while writing…this was the first time I outspokenly chose ME.