Sexual Trauma #3

#1:

    One day during the summer, my perpetrator had one of their friends over for the afternoon. It was the boy who lived next door and he was at least one year younger than my perpetrator. It started the way it generally did, with a game. This time it was truth or dare again. My perpetrator always made me pick dare. The first dare I was given was to give my perpetrator oral sex. This was the way we started this game. We did other dares that were non-sexual dares like eating dog food or stupid things like that. Then I got a dare to model naked for my perpetrator and his friend. We were in the living room at this point in the middle floor of our house. I went around the corner into the kitchen and took off all my clothes. Then I was walked like I was a model and the kitchen floor was my runway. My perpetrator laughed and acted like they thoroughly enjoyed me walking up and down the kitchen floor. It was very obvious that my perpetrator's friend was uncomfortable but he was going along with it for my perpetrator's sake. I found out later that my perpetrator tried to get their friend to do different sexual acts with them but the friend refused and pushed my perpetrator away and that ended that.
    During this experience, I felt uncomfortable and exploited. I was expected to fall right back into this like it never ended with my perpetrator. I felt like I had to play a part so to speak for my perpetrator's pleasure. I felt pressured into this. It was always a game for my perpetrator but it never was for me. 

#2: 

    Up until the age of 11 or 12, my perpetrator and I would take showers together. We often played pretend games during the shower process like playing pretend. Sometimes we would pretend that we were different animals or stuff like that. When I was 10-11, the shower games turned sexual. They started wanting to bathe each other's private area. They once again used a game to introduce it. They started with pretending that I was a dog and they were the owner and the owner had to wash the dog. They had me get on all fours, like a dog, and they pretended to use the sponge to wash me all over and when it came to my private area, they fingered me, taking as much time as they could to do it. Then we reversed roles and I was expected to wash them in the same manner, him wanting me to play with his private areas, which I did, as asked. Eventually, we ended the shower and completed the "game". This "game" took place many times over the next few weeks or months. It was never seen by my parents who never checked on us during our showers. It was the perfect way to conceal their actions. This "game" made me very uncomfortable at first, but eventually became normalized, as part of everything that was going on at the same time. 

Poems From Treatment #4

This is a poem I wrote after a conversation with my therapist at River Oaks: 

I want to scream
I want to cry
And I'm afraid if I do
I will surely die

No one sees it.
It's always hidden.
Because I've been taught
That it's extremely forbidden

I can't release
It's trapped inside
I feel alone
In ever stride

It's scary
It's bad
It'll mean
I'm just like my dad

Letting out
All my fears
Will lead to nothing
Not even tears

Nothing will come
It's too deep
I can't fall apart
I can't even weep

I want only
To let it out
But inside
There is so much doubt

Maybe one day
I'll face my fears
Of letting everything out
Of freeing my tears

I want to express
I want to let go
My scream inside
That I need to show

One day soon
Maybe I can
Let everything out
From which I have ran

I want to scream
I want to cry
Maybe some day
I'll be able to try

This is an acrostic poem I wrote:

Giving up what wasn't mine

Undoing the chains that held me down

Illuminating the possibility of believing in myself

Leaving behind what I don't deserve

Turning around and being free

This is a poem that I wrote in response to a memory that came up:

I'm broken
I'm damaged
My life is really
Hard to manage

I'm damaged
I'm broken
Much of my life
Remains unspoken

You damaged my life
That can't be fixed
All the pieces of my mind
Are completely mixed

You took full
Advantage of me
You turned me into
Someone I didn't want to be

You stole my innocence
That I can't get back
It's left me
Completely out of whack

Because of you
I feel so alone
Isolated
With no one to phone

Maybe one day
I'll find a way out
Of the flashbacks, the nightmares
That give me so much doubt

You betrayed me
You destroyed me
You made me 
Feel so lonely

Destroyed I am
Because of your behavior
My memories from childhood
I'm unable to savor

You hurt the child
Who knew no better
You took something from me
You became my debtor

You caused my pain
You caused my fear
It haunts me every day
Every month, every year

Maybe one day
You'll understand
And my heart may heal
My hurt may end

Reasons Why Sexual Trauma Was Not My Fault

One of the assignments while I was inpatient was to write a paragraph for every reason I thought the sexual trauma was my fault, discrediting it. 

Reason #1: I was the older one. 
Why it's wrong: I may have been older in age, however I was more vulnerable because of all the other trauma that was going on at the same time. My parents were physically and emotionally abusing me at the same time which created an unsafe environment for me. Because of this, there was no safety for me and it affected my development. It made my emotional and mental age younger than I actually was. This left me to fall prey easily to any further abuse that took place. 
Today I am learning that age does not equal maturity.

Reason #2: I could have stopped it.
Why it's wrong: I knew I didn't like it and I knew I couldn't stop it or say no. I had been taught that saying no wasn't an option and that it wasn't okay to use my voice even if I didn't like what was going on or happening to me. This meant that I couldn't say no to my perpetrator when things started happening. They were the one leading it and I couldn't say no to them. I didn't know how to say no to them or to anything I didn't like.
Today I am learning that while I was powerless then, I'm not powerless anymore. 

Reason #3: My parents knew about it and didn't do anything. 
Why it's wrong: My parents should have protected me. They should have protected my perpetrator from what they went through initially and should have provided a safe environment for them to speak up. This would have prevented (maybe) them from doing it in the first place. Then, even if it did happen, they should have protected me by providing an environment that taught me how to speak up and ask for help. Additionally, when my mom was suspicious, she should have done something and not let it continue to happen. She shouldn't have given up so easily. 
Today I am learning that just because my parents screwed up does not mean that I am screwed up. 

Reason #4: I could have controlled it. 
Why it's wrong: I didn't have any power or control to stop it. My perpetrator was the one with the power in this event, this trauma. I had no control over what was going on during this time because my perpetrator led it and I had no control over what they did to me. Because of the lack of power and control I had, I didn't let it happen. I wasn't able to stop it and if I was able, I certainly would have. But I was a child and was the powerless one in this trauma. 
Today I am learning that because I had no control, it was not my fault. 

Reason #5: I could have said no. 
Why it's wrong:  I didn't have the emotional or psychological ability to say no. I was never taught that no was an acceptable answer. In fact, I was taught the opposite. I did not have the emotional ability to say no because I did not develop it due to the other abuse and trauma that I was experiencing at that time. This trauma affected my emotion and psychological development and I never developed the ability to say no. So I couldn't say no when it was happening. 
Today I am learning that no is an acceptable answer. 

Reason #6: I could have spoken up for myself. 
Why it's wrong: I didn't know how to speak up for myself. In my household at that time, it was expected for me to be seen and not heard and there was never any option for me to speak up for myself. And even if I did say something,I would have probably been blamed by my parents because that was their go to and everything was always my fault. I had no real voice and couldn't speak up for myself even if I had the opportunity. 
Today I'm learning I have the right to speak up for myself. 

Self-Compassion Letters #2

 This was a response to my life at 15. 

Dear Kimberly,

    I want you to know how much you deserve love and care. The treatment you got from your parents was wrong. They should have protected you. The school should have protected you, instead of watching your dad abuse you right in front of them. You deserve all the validation and encouragement Mr. Mason gave you and you deserve validation and encouragement today.
    The system failed you and you deserve better. You deserve safety and you never really got it. It's hard to feel safe when everything around you isn't. You deserve to know what safety really feels like, and I understand that it's hard to experience safety when you never really got it, as a child and now want you to know that you can experience it now, as an adult.
    I also want you to hear that your life matters. You have worth, just by being human. You have made a difference in this world, just by being you. You are a kind, gentle person with a great sense of humor, even if it doesn't always feel that way. You have many people who love and care about and are in your life because they want to be. You deserve to not be given up on, like so many therapists did to you. You deserve better treatment than that and you now have access to it.
    Keep going. You got this. You can make it through any challenge that comes your way. You are strong and resilient. You are a survivor.

Sincerely,
Kimberly/Yourself

This is in response to the camping incident of sexual abuse. 

Dear Kimberly,

    I want you to know that you deserve better. You deserve protection and you never got it. You deserve love and you didn't get it. You deserve to be valued and you weren't. But you can be now. You can value yourself and hear the supportive words around you from your support system. You can protect yourself now because you have more resources now than you did as a child. You have people who support and care about you more than you even realize sometimes. You have people who love you like you should have been as a child. 
    Your parents failed you and your perpetrator. They should have been a safe space for you to talk to. They should have recognized the signs and gotten you the help you both needed. You deserve more than they ever offered you.
    It is okay to be angry at your perpetrator. It's okay to be angry at your friend. You are allowed to feel angry for how you were violated as a child. What happened was wrong and it is okay to feel angry about it.
    I want you to know that it was wrong for how you lost your innocence. It was taken from you at an age where you should have felt safe. You deserve safety. You deserved it as a child and you deserve it now. you have the power now to keep yourself safe and take back that innocence that was stolen from you. You have survived so much and come out the other side. Keep pushing forward. You got this!
    Sincerely,
    Kimberly

This letter is in response to when my parents put me on a diet and began fostering my eating disorder. 

Dear Kimberly,
    You did not deserve to be treated the way your parents treated you. It is wrong to put a child on a diet that was made for adults. You should have never ha to worry about your weight or your diet. You should have never had to worry about the latest diet plan your mom found. Counting calories or points is made for an adult, not a child. You were a child, you should have been treated like a child. You should have been worrying about school dances or friends or extra-curricular activities. You should have been able to focus on things you enjoyed instead of what you ate. You should have never had to worry solely on your body-image like being overweight was the end of the world. 
    You deserved to be uplifted by your parents, not brought down. Your body does not define who you are. I know food was used as a weapon but it doesn't have to be now. You have control now that you didn't have as a child so you don't need to restrict in order to gain control. Eating is necessary for functioning and you need it in order to work through all that you are. You are stronger than your trauma. You deserve to love yourself enough to nourish your body. You have the right to have 3 meals a day, which you never learned from your parents. You can let yourself eat now without feeling out of control. Eating is important to a healthy life and you deserve a healthy life. Focus on what you can control in your life and you will get through this. 
    Sincerely,
    Kimberly. 

Anger Letters #3

 This is a letter I wrote to my perpetrator of the sexual trauma.

Dear perpetrator,

    You have caused irreparable damage. You stole my innocence. You damaged me. You broke me even more than I was already broken. You took my vulnerability and destroyed it. You took advantage of me, for your own pleasure. 
    While I understand that you were just re-enacting your trauma, that doesn't take away your responsibility. It isn't an excuse for all the hurt you've caused. You hurt me and hurt me bad. You hurt the child who didn't know better. You used the fact that I couldn't say no and ran with it. You used the fact that I couldn't use my voice against me. You have kind of held me hostage to your wants and desires.  You took full advantage of me, a young child who couldn't stand up for herself.
    You used the living situation I had against me. You took the fact that my parents were clueless and manipulated me and led us both to manipulate my parents, covering your ass and your actions.You left me vulnerable to future hurt by other people. You caused my suffering. You caused my hurt. You caused my shame. You. And only you. And you need to face reality and own up to the shit you put me through. It won't fix or change my suffering though. That damage is irreversible. And it is your fault and your responsibility. You hurt me. And that fact will never change. I hope one day you come to realize this. 
                ~ Kimberly

To explain this next letter, I knew my perpetrator had had sexual trauma of his own before he abused me. So this letter is to the person that hurt my perpetrator.

To the person who hurt my perpetrator:

    You don't realize how much damage you have caused by hurting my perpetrator. You are the reason why I had to suffer through what I did. You started a chain reaction. You hurt my perpetrator who then went and re-enacted everything you to him and hurt me and multiple other children. You caused that plain, that hurt, that torture. It's your fault that he led to doing the things he did. You are the reason I had to suffer. How horrible of a person you are to do that to another person. You are sick in the head. He was innocent and you took that away from him. You caused a tremendous amount of pain that he didn't know how to show others than to hurt other children. You started it. So many children had to suffer because of you. You are a child abuser and you made him one. He forwarded what you did to me. I have had to suffer because of your actions. Your actions! It's your fault!
    I wish you could understand and realize everything that's happened because of what you did. You were selfish, trying to meet your needs on someone else. I mean for crying out loud. And you caused so much more pain and damage than you could have ever thought or imagined. I hope you get what you deserve and have to feel the pain that you have caused so many others. You are a shitty person and deserve to rot in hell. 
    ~Kimberly

Sexual Trauma #2

************************Trigger Warning: Sexual actions and terms***************************

These are a couple more of the experiences of sexual trauma that I had as a child. During this period of time I was 10 or 11 years old.

The first time it happened, I had a friend over during the day. We were playing, maybe watching TV or something like that. She got bored and went upstairs to play with my perpetrator. They decided to start a game of truth or dare. I'm not sure who started it but the dare became a dare to get naked. That's when I got involved. Being curious about what was going on, I went upstairs and found my perpetrator and my friend naked. They told me that they were playing truth or dare and dared me to take off all my clothes just like they were. So I did. The next dare came from my perpetrator and it was to give him oral sex. At first, it was my friend doing it but I was pushed to do it too so I did. The next dare came from my friend and it was to have sex "doggy style" between my perpetrator and I. Then my friend and perpetrator did it too and I watched. I couldn't do a dare because my perpetrator and my friend were taking turns laughing and doing more dares. We were dared to do different things including more oral sex, anal sex and vaginal sex, taking turns of who my perpetrator was going to have sex with. I felt uncomfortable throughout the process but did it anyway because my perpetrator and friend were doing it and I didn't want to be left out.
    After that, every time we played together, that friend held the experience over my head so we would do what she wanted to. 
    One day my friend said she was going to tell her mom and my perpetrator and I ran to tell my mom that she was going to say what happened and explained that it was a lie. We briefly told my mom what she was going to say, explaining what happened in a very limited and skewed way. My mom was not concerned, basically writing us off. Things never went farther than that. 

When I was in 5th grade, I had 3 really close friends and we formed a small group. We did everything together and it was not uncommon for us to have sleepovers almost every weekend. One of my friends was just a couple days older than I was, our birthdays being close during the summer. We were bunk mates during our 3 day field trip to a camp for kids that our 5th grade class took. We were really close.
    We talked about everything. She knew what was going on in my household and I knew what was going on in hers. One day she shared with me that she had been sexually abused by one of her cousin's at a family reunion. This is what I believe led to this particular day.    
    It was another weekend and my friend and I were having another sleepover. Generally, we stayed up past when my parents went to bed. It was our chance to stay up late without a bed time. 
    That night, after my parents went to bed, my friend and I were playing in my room. The main light was off and a lamp was on, so the room was somewhat dark. My friend had the idea of playing doctor and examining each other's private areas. We took turns, going back and forth. We took a baby doll and stuck each arm and leg inside us each time we took a turn. We would mess around with each other's private areas using our fingers along with the baby doll. We would take parts of it and stretch each end. I did this first and I remember after a little bit of time she said it hurt but she just let it happen. When it was my turn to go, I remember being fearful that I was going to feel pain as well and begged her not to do the same to me. She didn't, much to my relief. But went back and forth fingering each other and using the baby doll. After probably 30 minutes to an hour, we eventually stopped and went back to playing with other toys. We never talked about it again.
    I found out later, through the grape vine that she had tried to do the same thing with another one of our other friends who said no. 
    This was the first time this happened and it happened again multiple other times, including during the camping trip we had with my family.

Another incident was one day during a summer afternoon, my perpetrator and I were left to ourselves. My parents were at work so we had no supervision. My perpetrator and I were in the lowest floor of the house playing. My perpetrator decided to dare me to give him oral sex (he didn't call it that obviously) and he said that if I did it to him, he would do it back to me. I asked who would go first and we decided that I would do it first. We laid down on the carpet that was in the middle of the room and both took our pants and underwear off. I gave him oral sex and I remember feeling uncomfortable while doing it and I remember my perpetrator complaining about me hurting him because I was using my teeth too much. After my perpetrator was satisfied with what I'd done, it was my turn. So we switched places and he looked at my private area and the hair on it and decided he didn't want to give me oral sex so he fingered me for a minute and then stopped. My perpetrator said we should stop before my mom got home so we did, put our pants back on and went back to our other summer activities.

My Breakdown

I've been stable for three years now. I've maintained my stability and taken care of myself and done what I need to do to make sure I stay well. I take my meds, go to therapy, participate in support groups and practice self-care. It all works together to keep me well. 

Then things fell apart. It started with an event that was traumatic to me. One of my friends had overdosed and me, being the stable one, went to go get her to take her to the hospital. On the way to the hospital, she went unconscious and unresponsive. I had to pull over in the middle of the night and call 911. It took a couple minutes for them to find out where I was exactly and then they sent out emergency responders. A cop came first. He checked for a pulse and then he shook her and called her name and tried to elicit a pain response by shaking her at her breastbone. She still didn't respond. Firetruck was next followed by EMS. They once again tried to wake her and couldn't. They took her blood sugar and her blood pressure and those both came back okay. I was standing on the sidewalk, crying, watching the whole thing progress. They began trying to figure out how to get her onto the stretcher when she threw up all over the back of my car and started coming to. They told her that she had to go to the hospital and she became belligerent and started arguing with them in her semi-conscious state. The firefighter running the scene asked me to talk to her and I tried to tell her that she had to go to the hospital and she still fought it. Eventually, she said that if the lead firefighter would leave the scene that she would go willingly with EMS. So the firefighter drove off for just enough time for them to put her on the stretcher and into the ambulance. Then the firefighter came back to the scene. I grabbed her backpack and gave it to EMS to take with her to the hospital. One of the paramedics asked me if they knew that this was an intentional overdose and I said that it was. Eventually, they left, headed for the hospital. The firefighter and the cop conferred with each other for a couple minutes and then told me that due to COVID I couldn't go to the hospital with her so I best just head home and wait for updates. So I cleared it with them that I was okay to leave and headed home. She was released from the hospital the following morning and sent home to recover. No psych referral or anything which really frustrated me because she had hurt herself and needed help but there was nothing I could do. I spent the night crying and trying to pull myself together. 

I slept a couple hours and then woke up to text my therapist about potentially seeing her for a session that day because I knew I was not in good shape. She said she had a session open that morning and that I could see her then. So I stayed up and went to the therapy session. I was exhausted because I had slept all of maybe 2 hours in a 36 hour period. I used the session to process what had happened and then went home. I slept during the day and then got up for my training that night. I ended up sleeping during the training. After that I went back to my bed and I spent the next 24 hours in bed with the only exception being going to the bathroom. This ended up with me somewhat waking up and talking to a couple friends. I was then up during the night for a few hours and then went back to sleep and slept 14 hours straight without waking up. I'm not sure if I was avoiding life or my that I was physically or mentally exhausted. I woke up around 4pm that Sunday and decided to go DoorDashing to make some money. During this extended period of time, I missed my medication for around a week.

During the DoorDashing, I started having thoughts of pulling my car out in front of other cars or driving off the road intentionally. I had thoughts that I didn't really want to live life anymore. So I called one of my friends and we talked for a while and eventually decided that a hospitalization would be good to help get me back on my medication. So I called my therapist and psychiatrist to get some help setting up an intake appointment at a local psychiatric hospital. My therapist called Marshall Pickens hospital and set up an intake appointment for the following day. 

The next day I packed myself a bag and went to the intake appointment. The lady doing the assessment identified that what I thought was just general anxiety was actually me having anxiety attacks over and over again. They admitted me to the hospital. Once admitted, they went through the typical intake process. They did their search of me (which resulted in my losing two things that I tried to sneak in, one of which was my security item, my pillowcase) and then went through my stuff and put it in brown paper bags for me to take to my room. While I was going through the intake process, another patient recognized me from a previous hospital stay. I did not remember her at all (because my memory really sucks) but greeted her. They wanted us to wear masks with it being during COVID and all but a lot of the patients only wore them when we had to go off the unit for groups and meals.  I saw a resident who evaluated me and we went over my medications. I told her I just needed to get back on my medications and she agreed after I explained. The whole purpose of this hospitalization was for me to get back on my medications and medications were a problem from the beginning. They didn't carry multiple of my medications including my sleep medication. The medication that I take is an extended release version of a sleep medication and they wouldn't allow me to bring my own in. The version they had was for falling asleep, not staying asleep which is my biggest issue with my insomnia. So that entire first day it was a battle with my medications. They said they wanted me to try the non-extended release one. That night I didn't sleep but 5 hours and then I was up the rest of the night. So they added an anxiety med for me and once again I did not sleep. I knew that this was not going to work so I asked to discharge. I was there 3 days and then I left because I couldn't take my sleep medication and thus slept very little while I was there which just screwed with my emotions even more. 

Once I left MIP, I went to stay with a friend who lived three hours away from me to see if staying with her could stabilize me out. I was there for a few days and we went to a Christian conference together but I was still struggling. So I called the Carolina Center for Behavioral Health and asked for an admission. I was afraid initially that they wouldn't accept me because of my past history with them. However, there was no problem in getting me in and I was admitted September 1st. I spent three weeks in the hospital trying to just get stable on my meds again. Shortly after I got there, the friend that I had helped before showed up on the same unit. Her and I got along great, but I spent a lot of time helping her instead of taking care of myself. When she fell apart and was moved to a new unit, I was relieved and was able to focus on myself again. Once that happened, I was able to be stable enough for discharge. After three weeks, I left and started in their IOP program which was three days a week for 3 hours a day. 

I was in the program for a week and a half before my life began to fall apart again. I was suicidal and wasn't sure I could keep myself safe. I was told if I didn't agree to more intensive care, that I would be involuntarily committed so I just needed to go to a higher level of care because of where my head was. So I was admitted to the hospital again. This second time we decided that we were going to try a medication change. I don't do well with medication changes and this medication adjustment was hell on earth. I was super suicidal and wanting to self-harm all the time. I ended up taking a plastic knife from the cafeteria and getting myself put on unit restrictions. I was on for a week and a half and that entire time I didn't eat anything. I drank Powerade and that was it. I started having intense panic attacks, some of the worst ones I had had in my entire life. Eventually, I was taken off. Shortly after, the thoughts in my head became uncontrollable and I didn't feel comfortable asking help from staff. I tend to be afraid to ask for help and assert my needs when I'm in a hospital setting. So I ended up self-harming. Nothing major, not even breaking the skin, just an abrasion. I was immediately put back on unit restrictions and was harshly scolded for doing it. I was in graduate school at the time and my friends were taking care of printing things and typing them up so I could keep up in my courses. At this point there was an assignment I had gotten an extension on and the teacher wasn't willing to budge. So I said I wanted to discharge. I remember the doctor being very frustrated with me and telling me he wouldn't be surprised if he didn't see me back in a week. 

I did IOP again and was there for a week before being re-admitted. During the week that I was out, I got most of my major school assignments done so that I didn't have to worry about leaving in order to do schoolwork. So I was admitted again and the doctor was not surprised. We agreed to try another medication, which of course sent off the spiral of my thoughts and I was consistently self-harming. However, instead of shaming me like the doctor had before, he was more compassionate and just encouraged me through my victories. I had certain staff that I focused on talking to when I struggled. At one point while I was there, I was self-harming and had a plan to kill myself inside the hospital. But I wrote something out and talked to a staff member I felt comfortable with and she took it and put it in my chart for the doctor to read. I was surprised that there was no shaming, complete understanding on the part of the doctor or the therapist. This third time I kept staples with me but didn't use them for a while, just hid them and kept them in my pocket. Towards the end of the hospitalization there, we found out that my days to go to River Oaks were numbered so we fought about me leaving and going there. I felt that it would be a waste of time considering I only had 17 days. But I was pushed into deciding to go there. So I was discharged, had three days to finish up my schoolwork and then prepared to go to River Oaks. 

It turned out to be a great decision. I received help there that targeted the foundation of things. I uncovered a new trauma that I hadn't explored before. I received a lot of help. I got three extra days through doing PHP and those were helpful as well. I left on a crazy note because of everything I did on my last day there but was told if I needed to come back after my insurance days reset (which was 60 days), that I could come back.

So I went home and started PHP at CCBH. I did that for three weeks and then switched over to IOP. We focused on getting me back to River Oaks without hospitalization. We didn't do any med changes other than to increase my nightmare medication because I was having intense nightmares again, mainly because of the uncovering of the trauma from being at River Oaks. 

60 days later, I returned to River Oaks and did a lot of work there over the six weeks I was there. I returned home after 6 weeks in a better state of mind. Newer issues had come up and there was a plan in place to deal with everything. 

This period of time was tumultuous. I struggled with feeling like a failure because I had been stable for three years with no hospitalizations and I had to reset everything. I had to reset on my self-harm free days and my hospital free days. Which was frustrating. I was frustrated that my life had fallen apart again and that I wasn't able to hold things together. I felt like this screwed up my plans on being a social worker and that there was no way that this would be used in a good way.

However my friends told me different. They told me that there will be people who will need to know my experiences and how I got back up after I was knocked down again. That this has a purpose.

I think I'm learning that recovery is not linear. It has ups and downs, peaks and valleys. It's a never ending battle. But it's one that I can fight.