Loud Mouth Brown Girl

I don’t know what I will look like in six months, but for the first time in my life, I am genuinely curious about the results, of the work I am putting in.

You may or may not know this, but last Wednesday marks the first day of the new section, of my health journey.

For seven years I’ve been focused on the mental aspect of mental health, and now I am focusing on the physical parts.

There have been more tears than I thought possible, but they aren’t tears about me, or even for me. They’re for the fact that the only reason I am working out so hard, is because I feel completely helpless.

I am overweight. I smoke too much, I don’t eat healthily. I do not take care of myself, that’s not the person I am, but the thing is, I want to have a full rich life, and that means adding physical activity back into my life.

I’ve all but quit drinking, reserving it for the rarest of occasions, not because I want to just not drink, but because with the amount of cannabis I imbibe, I no longer need or want alcohol in my life, the way I did in my twenties.

Right now, everyone is talking about Sean, “Diddy” Combs, and yeah, it’s fucking triggering. I think that’s what started it. I know, and have known for a while that Sean Combs was a bad guy, we all knew, but none of us could have suspected how bad…right?

Now that I know for sure that I was right, that something was off with him, I look at him, and the women he hurt, and the men too, and I see similarities with what was done to me. Powerful men used me as a sex toy, they used me as a doll and didn’t treat me as if I had any form of humanity at all.

The difference is that the men who abused me were white, they were bikers, and they had far less fame. But it happened nonetheless, and now all these decades later, I’m the one who needs to find ways to deal with what was done to me. Like many of Sean Comb’s victims, I am alone, and unacknowledged, because I am neither rich, nor famous.

I am starting to realize that many, many, many, many, women who come forward, never get justice. They never get that moment of validation from a judge, from lawyers and cops, and I am starting to worry that is going to be me. So much so that it’s been making me sick.

It’s been seven years and to this day none of my rapists – other than 3 = are in jail or prison, and those that are, are there for other crimes that don’t involve me.

It’s exhausting to be the one saying “I’m a victim please help me,” for year after year after year, only to be told that you are crazy and that it “Didn’t happen,” when you know for a fact that it did happen.

The system fails women like me every single day, and so now I am working out at the gym, so I can get strong, so it can never happen again, so I can say I did something with my life that mattered. It’s not just about getting fit, it’s not just about being safe, it’s about not going completely insane with all the trauma that is haunting me.

If anyone else out there understands, please let me know because I have never felt more alone in my life.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall, The Loud Mouth Brown Girl