You who abused me. Pushed, and “challenged” me, you who raped me, not caring how I felt or what I needed. You inspired me to believe that I would beat you by choosing to survive. You chose to abuse. I chose to live.

Now here I am and you’re a footnote in the story of my life, a reminder that the world is filled with great evil vampires and zombies who refuse to be their true self. Stuck in your fear, stuck in your ability to use your voice to share your complaints.

A reminder that I will never remain silent in the face of abuse.

You wonder why I won’t just shut up and go away, and that’s because I refuse to give you what you want. I refuse to be your doll anymore. I won’t wear the clothes you approve of. I won’t care if you like my short hair, or my jagged nails. I don’t care.

I am free of you, because I decided that today.

I’ve been sitting here trying to prepare myself to have a conversation about my mental health and my marijuana use with women from across the continent who know what it feels like to be broken down and shamed by abuse.

I’ve been preparing myself because I know it’s going to be a very difficult support group type of conversation. With my tribe.

You tried to convince me that I was alone, that no one would care what I had to say, that what I had to say didn’t have merit, this isn’t a matter of strength, it’s a matter of determination.

I refuse to die because I am not interested in death. I find it to be rather exhilarating sure, the thought of it, the next great adventure, but the problem is that I am not done with this adventure yet.

I’ve been coming up with movie plots and stories that describe my life in a thousand ways and I am reminded every single day that I am a survivor. It’s literally written into my DNA. I wasn’t born to give up, I sure as fuck wasn’t born to die at the hands of a white man.

Nothing could be more of an offensive thought, then the idea that I might die at the hands of a white man. For that reason alone I choose to survive, I continue to choose to survive every single day.

I am not worried about whether or not I am going to thrive in the mess that you left behind when you tried to destroy my life and deconstruct everything I could be by trying to force me to be something that you approve of.

This is the mantra of a woman who knows her worth now, and knows that her worth has matter to those around her. This is coming from someone who understands that after the experiences that I have had, I have something to offer the world that other people just don’t.

It is my job to speak to others, to inspire them, to lift them up, to be honored by their presence and attention and I couldn’t be more humbled by the gift that I have been given with the continual use of my own voice.

That isn’t to say that some days aren’t just fucking rough. That isn’t to say that some days I don’t just curl up and cry, I still have those days, but they aren’t because of you my abusers. They are because I am grateful, because I am learning to let go of the past through my tears.

I am setting myself free with each day that passes and no matter what happens to me after today, you can’t erase my legacy because there are people in this world who knew I existed, who know that I exist and are happy for me to do so.

So I win.

I am stronger than those who tried to destroy me, and I have proven that with every single word I have ever said about the experience that I’ve been through.

Today I was asked if I would sit down and talk with a group of ten girls about my experience, all young women who have experienced some shit and are trying to find a life line to drag them out of the river of shit.

I can’t begin to express my gratitude to them, because it means that I did something right in my life. The very fact that they want to hear from me tells me that I am on the right path, and I am liking this path that I am on. Praise the Gods and the Goddess’s I am still here to tell the tale.

If that isn’t majick I don’t know what is.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall

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