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✍🏾 Once you start healing trauma, your body comes out of fight or flight mode & your body craves a lot of rest & silence 🧘🏾‍♀️ That was my case when I fled from my Father‘s abuse. I was always tired & kept to my self a lot. When I arrived PH City in 2002, I met this Girl called Charity* a day after I arrived. We were both seeking for jobs in a popular club then in GRA. She as a waitress & me as a Singer in the band that performed there on weekends ( I never got the job there) Amongst other job seekers, we were asked to wait outside for the manager so we sat under the shade of a tree waiting to be called. While we waited, Charity & I got talking. I narrated my story of growing up, death, abuse & how I found myself in this city looking for a job as a singer. Charity told me hers too. She was a single mother who left her Village to seek greener pastures. After that day, She gave me her address & asked me to come live with her in Diobu. She was "Squatting“ with a single mother who lived in a shack with her children & a grandchild from her young daughter. She was indeed squatting cos there was barely space in the shack. They woke up at 4am to prep periwinkles for sale. That was the owner of the shack‘s occupation & Charity would help them out. Every morning we would get ready & go job hunting. Breakfast was akara & bread that Charity bought for us. That used to be my only meal for the day. Charity used to have a boyfriend who gave her upkeep money. That was how I was able to feed on akara & bread until one day, Charity told me to follow her somewhere in the slums. When we got there, it was a newly built shack that looked like a self contained house. She told me that the owner of the shack, a man was to be my boyfriend. That he would be giving me 200 naira a day for feeding & that I would live there with him. Inukwa m na arrange marriage 😨 When I refused, I was asked to leave. I had stayed with her for a month & in those weeks, I made some friends in the show business through my job hunting. Cont in comment section 👇🏾 ©️Lilian Engel #RebornByLamili 🦅 __________________ #StoryTelling #StyledByLamili #Suvivor #TheBrandLamili

Excerpt: “The more time I spent around this hedonistic lifestyle, the more numb I became to it. What once shocked me no longer fazed me, and before I knew it, I wasn’t just a bystander—I had become a participant in some of its darkest aspects.” www.iamjerrydale.com

She's sending voice messages now and threatened "legal action". I said all I needed to say and am blocking her so she can continue to be in such a good place. Keep in mind this is why I'm deleting people she's so unbothered she had to reach out to 2 of us despite being blocked on most things :) I'm not usually all about the drama and anyone that knows me knows this but this has went on for years; I'm tired of "mean girls" crap or mind games, and you think they would all have better stuff to do than antagonize a blind lady. Excuse the spelling errors and general language but at least one person is capable of telling the truth. Watch how I don't name names and they tell on themselves but hey, if you don't like your place in MY story, then you should have been a better human being. I will continue to tell my story as intended. #cheatingboyfriend #storytime #heresthetea #girlsgirl

My story made in a Poem 🤍. Thank you @samyau_poetry Redeemed by Love (A real story of my friend’s trauma and healing) By Sam Yau Laughter fused with the clink of glasses parties unfolded as the sun dipped low but beneath the surface, chaos brewed my parents fought while I absorbed the discord a painful, silent witness to their raging storms As a child, I was handed sips of booze a snapshot of my tiny hands clutching a beer passed around as a joke among family friends My first intoxication arrived at six initiating years of my secret escape a refuge, not in my body but in the haze I dressed well, nice home, nice car but behind closed doors, the truth lay hidden a facade of niceties cloaked the darkness abuse lingered—sexual, emotional a wound carved deeply into my being I blamed myself enveloped by deep shame whispering the devastating lie “I must be a bad girl to be mistreated by my parents who were supposed to love me” Nightmares of falling off a cliff frequently haunted my slumber I would wake up in a panic the moment I hit the bottom soaked in fear, I stayed awake until the time to go to school At thirteen, I had an abortion to avoid ridicule from others I was shipped far away in a hurry By eighteen, I gave birth to my son I felt joy, but intermingled with fear at 18 months old, in a cruel twist of fate my son was in a coma after a car wreck his life support was about to be withdrawn against all odds, he breathed again I was told he might never talk or walk again My childhood nightmare of plummeting off a cliff returned with a vengeance I never finished high school the figure skating dreams long crushed I became a nightclub dancer the only way I figured I could support my son and not lose him I also loved the glamor and attention I returned to the outward appearance of nice house, nice car, nice clothes, and a nurse nanny to take care of my child Inside, I was spinning out of control I was dating the nightclub owner-drug dealer I became deeply addicted to hard drugs I was under constant surveillance by police I was in danger, looking for an exit Continue Reading in the Comments

My Adopted Daughter (13) Took A DNA Test. When I Saw The Results, I Brought Her Back To The Orphanage Home