Daisies, Daffodils & Doubts

Doubting yourself is such a common theme among abuse survivors. It is not too difficult to understand why.

The very foundation of abuse is built upon layers and layers of deceptive lies. A continuous stream of doubt is built into us by the predator’s crafty work.

“You aren’t good enough to tell and have someone listen to you.” “You don’t even know what the truth is!” “Go ahead, try to find what happened to you, you won’t be able to believe yourself when you do.”

And, their mocking voices continue in the hearts of their victims.

Stop their voices and you stop the doubts that belittle you. Little by little take back the territory that once belonged to them.

The stories that I write about took me years to believe. My heart wandered through many of the memories calling me to heal but my mind was being strangled by my abusers’ voices and I had to fight to be free from them.

I questioned myself time and time again.

Did dad really kill all those kitties that day? Is my mother really a pedophile? My brother didn’t rape me if I wanted him? And so the voices of doubt delayed my healing for so many years.

Today, I no longer doubt my identity. I know what I came through and I testify now on my own behalf. I don’t wait for my abusers to give me authority over my story — they never will. They want to own my thoughts so they can keep me quiet.

As a child, if I was gazing at a daisy and knew it was a daisy with it’s white pedals and soft yellow center but my father came by and told me it was a daffodil, I’d start calling that daisy a daffodil.

Doubt created.

Stop the insanity and silence the voice of your abusers. Get angry at them. Tell them to leave you alone. Take back the ground that they stole from you. Don’t stop until you’ve moved them away from what belongs to you.

You belong to you. You do not belong to anyone else. You are your own person. That’s a fight worth owning.

Originally published at http://prisonerbynocrimeofmyown.com on March 9, 2022.




Incest. Murder. Rape. Then, I turned four. This is my story.

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Jodie Tedder

Jodie Tedder

Incest. Murder. Rape. Then, I turned four. This is my story.

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