In Support of A Trafficking Survivor
I was abused and trafficked. For years my abusers have paid people to sabotage my life and stability in an effort to undermine my credibility and to keep me reliant on them. Some of these people have now confessed. Others have left a paper trail. I have stayed silent out of fear, desperation and an understanding that most of the people keeping me stuck have been deceived and were in dire situations themselves. With the release of the files, things ramped up.
Even now that I have evidence, freeing myself by exposing those involved feels like it will hurt people who were misled and every bit as trapped as I was when they betrayed me. I’ve come to really love some of these people. And I’m angry at the institutions and power hungry individuals who preyed on their hopes and needs and fears and stripped them of their ability to treat others how they would like to be treated.
With the release of the files, things have ramped up. I am trapped. I am starving. I’m getting death threats. People have broken into my home and vandalized my property (check out my couch and messed with my food. Two people close to me hacked into my phone and I’m pretty sure tried to frame me for a crime. Iykyk. I’m scared to go to food banks and I can’t afford to provide for my dog anymore and keep these secrets. My business has been destroyed and anything new I start gets squashed. The real estate industry has been weaponized against me by someone who once told me they used these same methods of bribing/blackmailing landlords and realtors and buying up properties under the names of shell corporations to drain a rival of their’s out of 7 or 8 million dollars. That was at least 15 years ago.
To survive I will have to own the place I live in outright paid in cash so no one else can kick me out or legally enter it. I’m also going to need to devote my life to charity and volunteer work because every business venture and avenue of employment I have spent years cultivating has been sabotaged. So assuming nothing changes, I’m going to need enough money to live modestly and independently for the rest of my life, accounting for inflation and constant sabotage.
Otherwise I’ll lose what little I have left and die. And if I’m gone no one will be there to attest to how truly stuck some of you actually were. I know what it’s like to have to choose between protecting the very lives of those you love and doing a job that makes your skin crawl. Maybe that’s just something I had to tell myself to survive living in a world where the people close to me were financially motivated to harm and dislike me from before the moment we met. Either way, I don’t feel comfortable assuming the worst about any of you and blowing up your lives. Your actions will forever be a part of my story but as long as I don’t become a murder victim or get forced back into slavery, your names don’t have to be. Let’s not throw Stones.🧅
A note: There may be people who will call me crazy or accuse me of lying about these experiences. Take notice of these people and don’t leave them alone with your children or beverages.
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- Created Sep 19, 2026
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