I’m not trying to “brag” about how much shit I’ve been through.
In fact I don’t want your sympathy.
I just want to write my story.

10/10/1995 the child was born. She was named Veronica.
January 2003 her Daddy fell at work and became a paraplegic.
After he got out of a coma and she lived with various family members, her family was reunited.
Her mom was 27, her Dad was 38, Veronica was 7.

In 2004 her mom went to rehab for narcotics. The drugs that never left the house and kept coming in.
2008 they decided to move 3 hours north for a new start and help from my Grandparents to take care of my Dad.
It was very different. No malls, 70 kids in my grade, compared to the 300 in my middle school 6th grade class and everyone was depressed because their were no jobs.

I lied and told my parents I was being severely bullied because I wanted to go back.

Instead they took me to a nearby school of choice, which ended up being in the bottom 4% test score wise in Michigan.

Things started to look up though, in 2009 Veronica got homecoming queen - and she was allowed to have boys and girls stay the night.

We would camp, go tubing, jump on the trampoline, no cares in the world.

By the middle of 2010 my parents divorce happened.
My mom was still so messed up on drugs she took us to a women’s battered shelter, where I ended up living for months. Until they gave us a home of our own on the women’s battered street, with others in the same situation.
I did see my Dad give her a couple black eyes, but sometimes she wasn’t the best at taking care of him either.
You’re probably wondering how that happened since he’s wheelchair bound?
He pretended  like he’d fallen and couldn’t get up and when she came to help he clocked her in the nose.

After being pulled out of school, I went back. And was finally happy.
But then who I thought was my best friend, told everyone all my family secrets and I ended up breaking my hand from punching her in the head too hard in the hallway at school. Thankfully, I was only suspended 2 days.

My mom let a tattoo artist move in, and that’s when I got the shittiest tattoo of what was supposed to be a peace sign on the back of my neck at the age of 15.

My mom got worse into drugs.
So I mostly stayed with my Dad and helped take care of him.

I got my third job at Goodwill at the age of 16. I was making 11.00 in 2011 which was really good! I saved up $3,000 over the course of 2 years to get my first apartment.

At 17 I had a boyfriend named Danny, who was 21 and we moved back to where I was from.

He coerced me to have sex with strangers for money while he waited outside.
First it was with blow jobs, then I went to a strip club and got raped by 5 men who led me out of the strip club early by paying all the ridiculous fees because I didn’t want to be there. The biggest one rode in my car and had me follow them to their hotel.
From then on I didn’t care about my body anymore.

After our lease was up we decided to go back up home. I found out he cheated on me, so I slept with his best friend.
I took him back after that.
We went to Nashville where I got into the porn industry.. which will haunt me for the rest of my life.

After we ended up in Flint, MI where he had friends, I found myself in the midst of the Flint water Crisis and even made it into a Michael Moore movie.
I also got into the weed business there and made good money.

When my bf wouldn’t get a job for years, I finally kicked him out.

One month later a convicted felon moved in who was 37 years old... I had no idea what I was getting into.

He also was in the porn industry so I thought we could relate.
But he wouldn’t stop.

He choked  me almost to death once and I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes.

I told him if he ever did that again I would leave.

8 months later, I packed everything in a Uhaul with my closest friends and moved out of my own house within 30 minutes.

Then in August of 2017 I met the love of my life, his name is Daniel too, and he also prefers to be called Danny.. though I didn’t call him that for at least 3 months.

He’s everything I think I’ve ever wanted from a man. He’s older also, 34 but he also has 3 kids from another woman who was an alocoholic and he has full custody.
I knew it was going to be a challenge.
But since I never had a family life, I know these experiences have taught me to become a real woman.
As of January 2019, I found out my ex, the old(er) one is being charged for child abuse/ child pornography / and producing.

It still makes me sick to my stomach.

He also has a now 5 or 6 year old who we took care of every other weekend. But I don’t think he did anything to him ever. He was more into young girls (16/17 maybe) idk really.

The kids thing is a real challenge, the three I’m taking care of now specifically. And I’ve had 2 abortions in the last year because he hasn’t wanted any more. Which is honestly the toughest pill I think I’ve swallowed in a really long time. The last one I had was honestly 2 days ago and my hormones are just going crazy.

I’m writing all of this at 2:04 am because nobody really wants to listen to all of this, and nobody will probably even read all of this. But it sort of makes me feel better.

I’ve overcome all of this and most days I still have a smile.

Don’t give up.

There are joys in life.

Sometimes they are just harder to remember I think.

Don’t define yourself by your tragedy’s.

Because you’re a lot more than that.

You’re an amazing piece of matter that so elequintly came together and your potential is truly limitless.

Your soul is your own.

Nobody else has to love everything about you.
But you.

Despite all of my mistakes I still truly believe that I am a good person.
The first time I had an abortion I prayed to God for forgiveness.
Now I’ve just reminded myself that it’s time I do it for the 2nd time.
It never gets easier and part of me is very upset that I’ve been put in a circumstance that required this outcome.

I love you all.

Even my unborn children.

Goodnight. 🌙