In 2013, I heard the words "human trafficking" (HT) for the very first time. I was 58 years old. I was about to retire from clerk positions I held for over 20 years. After hearing about it on the news I knew I had been a victim. It was a very long time ago. For so long I wanted my story to be told, but for so long it was just too painful to put it all into words. I tried hard to forget those 18 years of being trafficked and drug-addicted. I tried telling my story several times in the past because I at least wanted my siblings to know what happened to me when I was little. (I have no children.) But I was forced to give up. It was still so confusing to me that no one could keep track of what I was trying to say. We can all be good storytellers, but when it comes to telling our own stories we get stuck. It was so frustrating too, because I had images in my head of the traumas I'd been through, and the crimes committed against me, but I couldn't get those images into clear enough words for anyone to understand. I longed for validation, but human trafficking was foreign to many, especially my family. I had put them through so much. I'm sure they didn't want to hear me say that I was a victim. When I was addicted, I was stealing from them. How could I bring it all back up now? They're painful memories. We should just let go, right? I became convinced I would take my untold story with me to the grave. Maya Angelou says, "There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." I can attest to that. Plus, after all these years, my memory failed me on the timeline, ages, and dates. Not long after hearing the news talk about HT, I came to realize I had not yet come to terms with what happened to me. I was financially independent and had made a good life for myself. On the surface, I appeared to be ok. But in silence, I endured flashbacks and nightmares. I endured a debilitating fear of what others would think of me. I put a lot of effort into hiding my past and hiding my shame. But now that we have the words 'human trafficking" I felt an urgent need to try to make sense of my life. I felt stuck. I simply didn't know how to go about doing that. Then one day I realized that most of my life is recorded in public records. So, searched public records and soon realized I couldn't continue on this dark path alone. I was a mess all over again. The nightmares and flashbacks came back. So, I signed up for advocacy services at the YWCA. I had a wonderful therapist who was willing to walk alongside me on this research journey. I searched and researched. I was getting the timeline, ages, and dates straight. I was making progress. Then I was appointed by the governor to serve on the Michigan Human Trafficking Health Advisory Board. I was connected to the U of M's Human Trafficking Law Clinic. I was provided a lawyer who was willing to help me with my legal issues. She helped me retrieve my police records and criminal charges. As I searched through these records, I felt fear and horror as if it was happening all over again. I unloaded it all on my therapist. I was determined. I simply needed answers to all of the questions that had been spinning around in my head for years. It was my therapist's calming presence that helped me persevere to the end. After a couple more years I was finally able to put my life story into words. Those words became a book. Then my mind stopped spinning. I was finally able to step back, with my life story in my hands, and take a look at my life (from the outside looking into this time) and I had a burst of gratefulness that I had survived it all. I was finally able to embrace my survival for the first time. I was never so glad to be alive. I finally stopped staring at the traumas and look ahead with hope. By reflecting on our lives, we discover what pulled us through. Abuse is passed on from generation to generation. Someone has to step up the break it. Let that someone be me. Let that someone be YOU.
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