The pivotal moment of resilience came when I reached my breaking point.
I found myself grappling with the painful realization of why I had let people violate my boundaries and why I had remained silent even when it caused me pain. I questioned why I struggled to see my own self-worth and what events set these coping mechanisms in motion.
This moment wasn’t just a breaking point—it was the start of a deeper journey to understand, heal, and reclaim the power I had unknowingly surrendered.
Did your mom love to keep all your childhood memories?
I never understood why she did this until I had my son, and for my journey, I am forever grateful for her keeping these items. The items included four diaries. What was written in them would forever change my life.
A little back story about myself, growing up, I loved to write in my diary. I grew up in a very artistic and creative family, and my thing was always calligraphy and drawing. I loved to express myself through drawing and painting. I would write about my daily life as a child in my diary. I was so innocent and naive, with no idea what life would bring her.
In 2020, I began my journey of self-discovery and healing. Diving deep into understanding my whys. This brought me to a life of not respecting my own boundaries and abusive relationships, which brought me to become pregnant at the age of 21 with a man who was 30 years old. Poor friendship choices and the realization that being an empath attracts narcissists led me to a hard truth. A wise man once told me, “If you hang with trash, you start to stink,” and I was done with the stench. I craved more—for myself and my son. I wanted to understand why. I wanted to end the cycles, the generational trauma. It needed to end with me, and I was ready- no more.
I spent a lot of time reading through my diaries, dissecting every entry when I came to the last entry dated Sunday, March 2000.
Dear Diary:
On Friday night, Jacquelyn and I went to Sonny’s house cause Brayden was there, well, we drank a little, but Sonny got pissed. Jacquelyn and Brayden went into the bathroom, and Sonny started hitting on me; one thing led to another, and we ended up in his weight room kissing. Well, I told him “NO” cause I didn’t want to hook up with him anymore, and he was like, come on, and kept sticking his hands down my pants. I told him “NO” more times, then he sat on top of me and stuck my hand on his fully out d*ck and wouldn’t let go. I told him “NO” and was trying to get away, then he tried sticking his d*ck in my mouth. That’s when I was like, I gotta get out of there. I pushed him, he fell over, I waited for him to move, he hit his head hard on the wall, and then I booted it outta there. I went and got Jacquelyn.
Meanwhile, Sonny fell and knocked the bar stool over on him. We left, his friend Shelby has been phoning and bitching at me and April, telling me, “She is too tired to deal with this” Seriously, what a good friend. Jacquelyn is really mad at Brayden cause he knows something happened, but he’s sticking to his best friend.
I went home the night of what I know now was a sexual assault, crying, my mom asking me what was wrong. I finally told her through tears, and with that, my brother Kent, my protector, found out.
When I returned to school the following week, my brother and his best friends met Sonny in the high school smoke pit. Meanwhile, the girls, some of whom I thought were my friends and some of the mean girls, picture “the plastics” in the classic Mean Girls movie. It had me in tears in the bathroom, telling me I was lying and making this up for attention. I, the victim of the assault, being accused of lying about this event for attention! Screaming inside – No means NO, looking for attention! Was this the kind of attention I wanted, a fifteen-year-old girl who had only ever been kissed before that moment when we were dared to in a game of truth or dare the summer before sitting on the trampoline in our backyard?
Lying?? How can the victim be shamed and victimized for speaking up about what happened to me? I was the guilty one, the liar, and my worth was ripped away with every comment or look. To the girls I thought were my friends, whether they were just trying to fit in with the plastics or didn’t want to deal with it, I became the girl who made up a story for attention. Looking back, my family, my brother, his best friends, and the boys I was friends with in school were the only ones who believed me, and the girls made my life miserable.
From that Friday night, Sonny decided that my NO meant nothing to him. That night, when I was victimized, I was assaulted, and my life changed, forever affecting my decisions.
I finally understood my reason. For so many years, I had zero boundaries, haha boundaries, what were boundaries? I laugh softly. The years I went on to continue to be abused, being taken advantage of, and allowing others to use me to hurt me, yet I said nothing. I was afraid if I spoke up, I would be once again ridiculed, shamed, and embarrassed. I guess I believed it was easier to be quiet than to deal with the backlash of speaking up.
(Side note: I am triggered as I write this down from my diary. The smell that came off him in that moment. I become sick, running to the washroom, becoming sick to my stomach, a purge of getting this out onto paper, a release of all the emotions and feelings that flood back to me 24 years later)
In an era when sexual assaults were shrouded in silence, long before today’s movements brought them to light. It was a time when society convinced us that a size zero and body shaming measured worth was an undeniable reality.
In a time where trauma was not a word talked about, In the words of an incredible healer, Gabor Mate, “Trauma is not what happens to you, it is what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.”
That Sunday in March 2000 was the very last diary entry I ever made. On the day of my assault, my love for creating and my feminine energy were ripped away from me. I put down the pencils, pens, and paints and didn’t draw or write from the heart again. In turn, I picked up poor choices in friendships and relationships. I picked up addictions, socially acceptable ones, constantly reaching for something as soon as I felt a small bit of discomfort. Numbing my pain, my memories. I had no boundaries and did not respect myself, my worth, or my soul.
Until April 2020, when I put down the booze and began to feel the feels with a clear mind. I completely changed my life; I became sober and on my journey of self-discovery. I reclused to myself, clearing anyone and everyone from my life. I followed that little voice in my head, that intuition I had numbed for so many years, and began making the right decisions for my soul. I picked up the pencil and iPad and started drawing and designing, allowing that feminine energy to fill my soul. I became who I was meant to be: a full-time fine line tattoo artist who uses tattooing to heal others’ traumas.
My beautiful counselor Joy always asks me: what would you say to little Jen at that moment, that 15 year old self?
Little Jen, everything you had to go through has made you who you are today. You will be known for speaking the truth; you will speak for those who cannot, no matter what feathers you ruffle. You do not have to live in fear.
“A woman who has healed many traumas on her own and keeps her heart pure isn’t a woman; she’s an alchemist. She’s magic.
I practiced resilience by reflecting on my past, seeking support, setting boundaries, and embracing self-compassion. I replaced unhealthy habits with positive activities, educated myself on healing, and celebrated small victories, reaffirming my worth and authenticity.
Please know that your voice matters, and my advice would be to lean into yours or align with someone who can help you have yours heard.
Are you ready to share your story of RESILIENCE? You can do that HERE.