Taking Back What Was Stolen: My Journey Through Healing CPTSD and BDSM

He shattered my childhood. He thought that would be the end of me. He didn't understand. I am not the broken pieces he left behind. I am the goddamn weapon that rose from the wreckage.

This is not a story of pain.

This is a story of fire, fury, and fucking survival.

When I was five years old, the man who was supposed to protect me — my father — destroyed my trust, my safety, and my right to innocence. He cracked the earth open under my feet and dared to think I would stay buried. For years, I lived in the aftermath — not living, just surviving. Haunted. Numb. Disconnected from my own skin, my own voice, my own life. Suffering from undiagnosed Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

But here's the truth:

You can't bury a wildfire

One day, I decided surviving wasn't enough.

I chose to take it all back.

I chose to burn everything they built on my pain to the ground.

I chose me

A huge part of my reclamation has been through my relationship with my boyfriend, Josh — and through BDSM. To people who don't understand, it might sound strange. Good. Healing isn't supposed to look easy to those who never had to fight for it. BDSM gave me back the thing that was stolen:

Power.

Choice.

Absolute, undeniable control over my own body.

In our dynamic, I draw the map. I set the rules. I decide when and where trust is given — and when it's ripped away. Through BDSM, I didn't just heal. I rewrote the story they tried to brand into my skin. Now, my body is not a crime scene. It's a battlefield I conquered. It's a temple they will never enter again. Josh's name means safety to me now. Not because he saved me but because he stood beside me while I saved myself. When I hear the name "Josh" on someone else, it jolts me. Because to me, that name isn't just letters. It's a symbol carved in blood and trust and survival. It belongs to the life I chose after they tried to take everything. I am not what they did to me. I am not the scars they left. I am the blade they didn't see coming. I am the fire they could not put out. I am the storm that swallowed their darkness whole.

This body is mine. This story is mine. This rage, this love, this pleasure — it's all fucking mine.

They took my childhood. They stole years from me.

But they will never, ever own my future.

I didn't just survive. And if you are reading this, if you know what it is to crawl from hell with blood in your teeth —

know this:

You are not broken.

You are not dirty.

You are not lost.

You are a fucking revolution.