If you haven't read reasons 14, 17, and 19; I would politely suggest you go back and read those for some extra background details.
I had been living in Australia for two years. It started just as a single semester abroad to continue my education, rather than wait around to get into CSULB (I don't believe I ever wanted to go there, I just applied because that was what my boyfriend at the time wanted). No one will ever know what started or why I had an obsession with Australia. There was something dragging me there like gravity.
It was not until I was there and my dad had flown back to California that I realized I need to break out of my comfort zone. It was suffocating me and perpetuating so much self-loathing.
This isn't the place for me to narrate the details of the traumas I have experienced that were at the root of my self-loathing but I believe those details will slowly come out throughout this blog.
I knew unhealthy relationships very well. I was accustomed to them and believed I deserved every bit of the pain they brought.
Australia was the start of that kind of pain and self-loathing being unacceptable. There would be no more relationships with men until I learned to value myself. My laughter was important and something I strived for daily while living in Varsity apartments. When things got hard, I would seek out my friends (all of which were from other countries) that were also my neighbours. If there is any that will change your perspective, it is seeking comfort in someone from a different culture because their perspective is so much different than your own. I was raw and malleable and ready to be reshaped into something better than what California knew me as.
I had to let go of the fairness fallacy, which was hard. So unbelievably hard. Life isn't ever fair or just. What happened to me was not fair and those men will never see justice (I can only hope for Karma).
I had to break out of the busy, counting-my-minutes-making-sure-each-one-is-productive lifestyle and learn to chill-out-chilly-dog. There is no circumstance in which being that busy is healthy. Healthy is taking deep breaths, stepping outside and sometimes never coming back to whatever you had to leave in the first place.
Being present in every moment. It took me a long time to even be able to be present. I still struggle with the occasional pulls to the past or the future. Sometimes they are needed.
I had a Methhead for a roommate at one point (who worked for the Uni and had access to my student files) and that taught me that sometimes breaking legal contracts was ok because management did not care about my safety. My safety is a priority above any laws or another person's expectations.
Most importantly I learned that my body is my own and no one has the right to take it from me. No man is entitled to any satisfaction from me or my body. "No" meant "no". My boundaries were mine to control and anyone who tried to violate them would cease to be in my life. I had a voice to fight back and resources. I was not alone in my suffering. My scars were not ugly reminders of how someone had broken me but displays of my resilience, my recovery.
This photo was an accumulation of two years of growth. This was my 'Fuck you' to the world that tried to break me, to make me feel worthless, to prevent me from loving myself. I want others to look at this and learn to love themselves through it.
Men like my perpetrators will try to sexualize it and use it for their satisfaction but they will only know one dimension. They never know my curves or my scars or my smile. They don't deserve to nor are they entitled to know.
For everyone else, choose love. Look yourself in the mirror and choose to love every skin tag, every scar, every crease and curve of your body. Know that it is yours and yours alone. Anyone who disrespects your boundaries or causes you harm is not entitled to do so nor do they deserve your time.