Meet Lori
Dinuba, CA, 35
C-PTSD, Anxiety, Depression
Trigger Warning: This story discusses abuse.
I would never wish my first 28 years of life on anyone.
In time, I’ve forgiven the main people who were involved, setting myself free from their control, but the internal scars and memories can’t be forgotten. I learned early in life that hatred often comes from those who hold titles and smile in public, but the worst happens behind closed doors.
My life of horror began before I knew my adopted parents though. My older twin brothers had heart problems that our drunken father, who was a truck driver, didn’t know how to handle. His addiction caused their health issues to be met with physical violence and neglect. When I was 3 years old, we were taken away from our violent father.
An unfair foster system permanently separated me and my siblings. One of my brothers got put into a group home and was deemed unadoptable. The other went to a foster home and got adopted by a single father. I, myself, went through several foster homes before going to the final home of horrors.
I was a little blue-eyed, blonde-haired, 4-year-old girl who was confused, sad, distraught, and angry. But thought I was finally safe. The 14 years that followed were anything but that.
A new home, new surroundings, new friends, and a new school just weren’t the best for my troubled soul. In fact, I repeated kindergarten because, not only was I mentally behind, but emotionally as well.
On top of the hatred at the hands of my biological father, it quickly came from my adopted dad as well.
In public, my adopted parents had everything and were adored by others, but behind closed doors was a different story. My dad did unimaginable things to me. Eventually, my younger sister came with us from foster care and I was terrified for her. Two years younger than me, I wanted to keep her safe. I tried to take all the horrible things so that our dad would leave her alone. Heartbreakingly, I wasn’t always able to keep her safe. She became a mom at age 15. Somehow this became my fault and I got punished.
In high school, things seemed to line up in a way that gave me a fighting chance. I got involved in extracurricular activities that kept me away from home and brought amazing people into my life, including friends with bonds that to this day are still very present. I also excelled in school, where writing assignments became a form of therapy that helped me thrive. I fell in love with creative writing and learned how poetry and stories can both hide and reveal information at the same time. Writing gave me the safety to share the hidden parts of my life. School was a safe space for me, because I finally had adults in my life who tried their very best to help and support me in any way possible.
But my last year of high school was the absolute worst. My parents didn’t let me have any of the normal monumental moments, and once my dad realized I was leaving soon, he turned to my sister. My sister was braver than I ever was. She said something to a trusted adult, but since our father was a respected member of the community, he was able to lie his way out of it.
At 18 years old I finally found my escape. The U.S. Army. I was tired, miserable, and jumped at the opportunity. My parents were angry, but I was thoroughly protected from abuse then. I had an absolute way out.
When I got on the plane to basic training, I took a shallow breath of freedom.
But going back for holidays was horrible. My father made it super clear I wasn’t safe in his house or in that town. On December 26, 2010, I walked out their door for the last time. Telling him he would never touch me again, he no longer had control of me, and he would never see me again.
Years later, I had my first big spiral as an adult. I was in a 6-year long toxic relationship and a baby born with Downs Syndrome, I was abandoned by a friend I was living with, and I lost two dear people back-to-back to tragic deaths. No one understood the mental struggles I was going through. I needed to face all the horrible things that had happened to me.
While I was trying to find solid ground, the people around me started putting me in dangerous situations, and my coping mechanisms were unhealthy. Fear, lies, secrets, and guys’ attention quickly became my life again, and I was stuck in a vicious cycle. I was mentally and emotionally worn out, not coping with anything in healthy ways.
I needed safety and stability. I met someone with whom I had my second daughter. The pregnancy was complicated. I became ill, needing several hospitalizations and surgery. I gave birth to my youngest six weeks early. It was a long road to recovery, and I dipped back into depression.
With the help of some amazing, supportive people, I began to truly start healing from the trauma I’d gone through. I found my voice and began writing again. I made the decision to put all my poetry on a public blog, where I found my story was not only echoed, but an inspiration. The poetry of my past struggles showed others that no matter what happens, better things are ahead if you just keep going. The emails I received from others who read my poems truly made me proud… but also broke my heart.
I know it’s hard to reach out and ask for help when you feel like nobody else understands, but it’s worth it. So many doors to healing can be opened, not only for yourself, but also to help others to heal.
The story you try hardest not to tell can be the biggest blessing for someone else. Even when it feels like you’re all alone, you’re not. If you relate at all to my story, I’m sorry… but also know that I’m so proud of you for waking up today and keeping up the fight.
You can find me on social media at the links below. I’d love to connect and hear your thoughts, opinions, and stories. If you need help with a past that haunts you, my coaching program may become your home. I’m a certified Neuro Transformation Therapy Coach, trained in neuroplasticity, and help others rewire their minds and heal their past.
LinkedIn : https://www.linkedin.com/in/lori-hood-9bb3b8377?utm
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/healingwithlori
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/fromtheashestothefire
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/angrygemini
Email: fromtheashestofire@gmail.com