I was first molested by my cousin, he was a teenager, I was a toddler. He climbed in my bed one night startling me awake and he touched my privates and made me touch his all the while telling me “it’s ok”. I knew deep down it wasn’t ok, but at the same time I trusted him, he was like my brother. He was caught and sent away to another state, I never saw him again. He left me with a fear I had never experienced, I was afraid at night in my room, the shadows of my toys seemed ominous, the sounds of my mother moving about terrified me, I believed someone or something was going to get me in my sleep. My mother let me sleep with her and she loved me and nurtured me for many nights and I finally was able to sleep in my own bed again. Then maybe a couple of years later, the memory of my cousin faded, my grandfather began to molest me. It happened several times, him touching me and making me touch him. He too was caught, but I was punished, blamed and shamed by my grandmother. I was devastated and profoundly changed as she shouted at me. I became silent, willing myself invisible for years. When I was raped at 10 or 11 by 3 neighbors, I was already programmed to tell no one because I would be blamed, so I carried the burden. As a teen I went into rebellion, acting out in harmful ways, abusing alcohol and drugs until I was almost 30 years old. Jail was my bottom and I started on my journey to not only survive, but thrive.