Growing up with a critical parent takes a toll on a child. They grow into people pleasers, lacking confidence and suffering from self doubt and depression. This can lead to unhealthy relationships in adult life. They often end up with abusers.

I did. For ten years I lived in a hell of my own making. I suffered emotional, financial and sexual abuse. I thought I didn’t deserve better. I thought I wasn’t worthy of love, success, or even friendship. I lost my true self somewhere along the way.

When I finally walked(ran) away, I was at the lowest point a person can be. I very nearly ended my life. But then, one day I found myself singing while washing the dishes. It seems a little thing, but suddenly I was laughing because I had not done so in a decade. I laughed until tears came, and then I let the grief come.

I cried for the little girl who had to be a pawn between two parents. I cried for the teen that was led to believe a normal infatuation with boys made her a whore. I cried for the young adult that forgot to dream because it apparently made her think she “was better than everyone”. And I cried for the woman that allowed herself to be degraded to the point of contemplating suicide. I let it all out, all the toxicity. All the hurt, all the wasted years, just came pouring out.

And it was that night that I first picked up a pen to write again. It felt good to pour my thoughts onto paper. It wasn’t a story that night, but a manifesto of sorts, a road map of what I wanted and how to get there. It was cathartic.

And now, I am halfway there. I fought my way through the flames of hell, and I came out stronger than I have ever been. I see now that this is my only life. It’s to be lived without regrets, always reaching for the stars. I know it won’t always be rainbows and roses, but I also know that I cannot and will not go back to being the victim I was before.

Some people don’t seem to like the new me. They don’t like that I have a voice that I no longer fear to use to speak my truth. But, these are the same people that only cared about me as long as I was what they wanted me to be.

Guess what? That’s just too damn bad! My name is Evie Sharpe. I am a survivor, a fighter, a dreamer and a free spirit. Nobody will ever take that from me again. This much I know to be true.