One Day

 Bloggers,

When times are lonely and the air feels dull I set myself on adventures in the area I live in to find peace of mind and to remind myself of all the amazing things that are in our reach.

For the third time, I have found myself by the water with city views.

Have you ever seen such a sight in your life?

There is something humbling about looking upon the greatest treasures we could possibly obtain for ourselves. 

To look at the thousand lights in the distance and imagine how many souls, how many lives are just happening, and how small we all really are. 

It is not what we own that makes us large, but the planet that we live on. 

Mansions, boats, Ugh, one day. One day indeed.

For all the trauma, all the absence of loved ones will all be worth it. All the lonely nights, all the tears shed - One day I will be at peace and rewarding in more ways than one. 

I suppose I regularly say I am finally being rewarded. So, what is this huge reward at the end of all this that I will receive?

The real answer is that we will always retrieve and earn what we deserve. 

There is no ‘end’ goal. 

Only steps.

Each step (hopefully) leading us closer and closer to greater things. Greater opportunities, greater happiness, and greater awards (not rewards).

The real reason I set myself on the adventure tonight is the fact that I was once again inspired.

For years I had thousands upon thousands of book ideas but one never really stuck.

Excuse after excuse as to why I couldn’t start and then finish the novel I yearned for, I think I’m finally ready. 

The story actually doesn’t seem too far from my own. 

With a few fine lines and details to iron out, I am excited to make this one of the greatest novels of all time.

Let’s be real for a moment, I’m 22 years old and this would have been my first published piece of literature other than these blogs - So I’m not getting my hopes up for this one but I am positive it will be the first of many.

A learning experience at least. A way to improve and grow on my skills so that amazing novel I speak so highly of can finally come into play. 

What makes the greatest novel?

Inspiration. 

A book that makes you cry, laugh, with death, love, and to feel enlightened by.

A concoction of all of my life experiences as the lifeline of a young writer. 

One obstacle after the other to only achieve what she knew in her heart, she always could. 

My notes on my phone and my laptop and books are ENDLESS.

From prostitutes falling in love with their pimps, house fires, ones in different eras… you name it, I wrote the idea down but none of them felt unique.

A million, billion, trillion books in this world, you can imagine what set me back from writing without that ‘wow factor. 

I always knew there was something special about me and my life.

Never the same as everyone else. Always thinking differently, always feeling so deeply. 

Always feeling out of place, out of body.

My dreams, or should I say my nightmares, have allowed to me grow my imagination in ways one would only dream. 

As a child, I would sit on my enormous computer at home in the study and write short stories upon short stories. 

I always knew I was a passionate writer.

Death.

I have seen more death in 22 years than some have in their entire lives.

You’d think by now I’d have mastered the art of mourning and funerals. 

Yet you learn that you never really do.

Sometimes it feels like it gets harder.

I suppose you learn or tell yourself that they are watching and that although they aren’t here physically, they are in spirit.

Each star that shines the brightest truly is one that you loved that has parted ways on this plane.

The amount of parental figures that have let me down is tragic.

Some to death by negative vices, some to abuse of my mother and some to drugs and others to sexual abuse.

It took me about 5 years to let go of the last stepfather that claimed that title.

Every man after that I made sure was nothing to me. Never close enough to disappoint and never one I wanted a relationship with.

Wow.

I just realise why I have such a toxic relationship with my family. 

I guess it really is to avoid being hurt again the way I was.

A relationship that never is, can never let you down. 

While extremely intoxicated the other night I found myself bringing up a past that I had buried so deep. 

Remembering the next day I shook myself. 

Why? Why after all these years did I spill my guts to a bunch of strangers about the hardest event I have ever had to deal with?

I’ll be honest though, It was probably one of the first times I’ve been able to do so without sadness driving it. 

It was just a story or a memory rather than explaining it as the reason I am feeling a certain emotion.

For those of you who have followed my blog for years know which event I am talking about. 

For those of you who don’t, I am at peace to tell you. 

When my house was raided in 2015 in search of Methamphetamines, I had received a call from the police while I was at school. 

Anxiety peaking that something has happened once again with my mother, they informed me to return to the station as soon as I could.

The sound in their voices made the hairs on my arms perk. 

As I arrived, he had apologised that there were no female officers available.. (OK, now I’m stressing!!).

He advised me that he was going to give me access to their computers and won’t look at me while I do it (or the computer). 

He said they found a camera hidden in my kitchen in the shape of a light switch that was no more than 2mm off the wall.

I do remember the box he was talking about - the same box my entire family had believed to be an old switch or some weird, black, plastic box with no use.

Anyway, there was 1 folder, I recall so clearly labelled “z”.

As I clicked this folder 70-80 videos loaded swiftly. 

I clicked 1… I clicked 5…

I don’t think I could look anymore after that as redness came to my face and I actually kind of laughed, to be honest.

There was this unfamiliar feeling that overwhelmed me. Was it fear? embarrassment? anger? 

70-80 videos of me completely naked, or in my underwear at 16-17 years old. 

This was when I found out I was a victim of child pornography. 

What does one do at this moment?

I am alone, with my friend because my mother didn’t believe me and my dad lives a very long way away and I had just left class to come and see these.

What would my friends think?

Why doesn’t my mum want to be here when the police are giving me this information?

This was the beginning of a very long road of dysfunction, more trust issues, and anxiety like no other.

My stepdad was not the man I thought he was. 

After that I went back to the house I was staying in and cried.

I cried so hard it felt like the walls around me were collapsing. 

The paint was stripped from the walls. 

Showering after that? After I had caught my stepfather recording me getting undressed in the bathroom was the hardest experience.

I put 6 towels around each glass, shower wall. 

Sitting on the shower floor with my knees to my chin, sobbing. 

I remember like it was yesterday. 

My own boyfriend of a year was never to see me naked after that. 

A bra was never taken off of my body. 

I stopped taking photos of myself, I stopped talking to everyone.

Or when I did speak, it was rage. I would scream. 

The number of times I would scream so hard that my body would feel exhausted.

Literally, the energy from my body went limp. 

I was fading rapidly and I didn’t think I could ever escape these feelings. 

No one understood - my rich friends with rich parents with no mental health issues and here I am, homeless, or living with a friend, after being recorded naked by her stepdad, raided by the police, and now without my family. 

Stripped.

I felt like God and the world had stripped me bare. 

I had nothing. I was so fucked up. 

Never, to this day, has my mother sat me down and spoken of these events. 

Sure, she’s denied 80% of it or said she can’t talk about it because it’s too hard for her.

I always wondered why I was never “special” or “loved” enough to be deserving of an apology or an answer. 

Without my brother sitting beside me in court and standing up for me to the judge when the facts were all wrong, I don’t know if I would still be here.

I tried to take my life a few times.

Was it a cry for help or was I genuinely done?

Both. 

I wanted my mother to show up and show she cared and she never did.

At the same time, I remember telling myself, if I am successful, I’m okay with that because every day was harder than the one before.

I just wanted to be a young girl with a family she could lean on and that was taken from me and I didn’t have a choice and it wasn’t my fault.

All I kept thinking was, “why me?”.

My mother kept seeing him after that and not me. She even brought him around my little sister. 

I threatened to call the police on them every day of my life for about 6 months. 

Honestly, I nearly did but never could.

As much as I hated her, I feared for what would happen to my sister as she doesn’t have a dad.

I have a dad, and he couldn’t even take me.

What fucked up system would she be placed in? One where I’d never be able to hug her or hold her close again. 

That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take - no matter how broken I was inside. 

Bloggers,

my life has been extraordinary. 

As I said, I have felt more pain, more sorrow than one ever should in such a short time. 

But I was a child and I didn’t have control over where I lived, where I study or whom I call ‘family’. 

Now I do.

These demons pop up now and then. 

But my dreams are no longer haunted by the man that took it all away from me.

My family, my dignity, my body. 

I am so proud of myself for taking these tragedies and making their amazing stories. 

Do you know how many women out there are recorded naked without their permission (not just children)?

My stepfather, Sam Harrison, had recorded over 40 other WOMEN, not including my child self and they will never know because they could not be identified. 

Oh, sorry he actually recorded his father and his stepmother having sexual intercourse and that same woman sat beside him during my court case and laughed in my face. 

I abused her to say the least and nearly got my case canceled for disrupting the court (still worth it). 

Angry me may have also abused the barrister defending him but I know now they had a job to do.

At the time, the thought of anyone protecting a pervert shook me to my core and my rage had to be known. 

Anyway, Don’t let these experiences define you.

Empower others by sharing these things. 

You never know how many people have gone through this. You never know what ANYONE is dealing with.

I didn’t walk around at the time screaming, “Hi!! I’m Samara and I’m a victim of this”.

The signs were definitely there - some could tell, like my teachers, closest friends, whereas others were oblivious to my cries for help.

The reason I share so many of these tragic stories is not to promote myself for being this “victim” wanting sympathy…

I share my stories to offer help and a voice because for so many years I was voiceless and like I said, all that came from my body was rage and sadness.

I felt so alone and empty.

If I can show people that there are others out there, I know I’m saving a life.

I know if I had felt connected to anyone that would have made my healing process so much quicker and easier. 

There were a couple people who stood by me the whole way but I know you need more than support during times like these.

Sometimes it feels like nothing helps.

Numbness is ever so consuming as is sadness.

But Bloggers,

I am always here.

Advice, to listen, or to share…

Your story is no less than anyone and your emotions are so important and so valued…

I wish someone had told me this.

I wish someone would have just listened.

No advice, no nothing - just to hear what I was feeling and what was going on in my head. 

I knew no one could relate so any advice almost felt like a contradiction or came across as condescending.

It comes to show how strong I am and how strong you can all be if only you try.

Waking up every day and getting out of bed was the first step to survival. 

Look at me now.

I am happy, I am loved and I have built this amazing life for myself.

I have forgiven and I have let go.

2 things I never thought I was capable of. With a little love and a little strength, I made it.

For all the things I want is the world, they are still to come but I am so far from the end of my journey. 

So when you are sad, and you can’t see a future, rest, do something happy, speak or write about it and thinking about the goals you need to reach in order to make it to where you want to be and tell yourself, “one day”.