My life changed forever when I discovered that I am HIV positive. The news came during my pregnancy with my youngest child. At first, I was filled with confusion and denial, and I felt betrayed by my partner. It turned out that the virus was transmitted by my baby’s father, whom I was dating at the time. I already have two kids who are now young teenagers, and I never thought something like this could happen to me or my loved ones.

My biggest concern was that my baby would be born with the virus. However, I didn’t know much about HIV, as I come from a rural area where the stigma is louder than literacy. So, I had to seek help from the nurses at the clinic. Unfortunately, those nurses didn’t treat me with respect either. They looked at me and said that I was reckless for getting pregnant knowing that I am HIV positive. Their words were hurtful and made me feel like I was worthless, unwelcome and unseen.

I haven’t told anyone else except my mom and sister about my condition because of the humiliation I experienced from the allocated health  professionals and the fear of being judged. Their attitudes made me realize that nobody else cares, especially those who’ve never been in my situation. In this world, I have realised that being poor means that your life isn’t valuable. People make assumptions and judge you based on their beliefs, and nothing you say or do can change their minds.

The only mistake I made was trusting my partner without taking the necessary precautions, and unfortunately, my life has been changed forever. However, my baby was born HIV-negative, and I can’t explain how that happened. It was a miracle and we give thanks to God for the divine protection over my daughter. God has been with me all along. Even when things get hard, and it feels like there’s no way out, God gives me strength and guides me towards the right path.

Living with HIV is a challenge that I have to face every day. I started taking ARVs, and my viral load has been suppressed since then. However, it’s not easy to live with the stigma that comes with the virus. People often judge me and treat me differently once they find out about my condition. It’s hard to explain to them that being HIV positive does not define who I am as a person.

My advice to everyone is not to trust others too much, especially when it comes to sexual relationships. Protect yourself. Encourage your partner to get tested for HIV with you before engaging in sexual intercourse. Always use protection, especially condoms, to reduce the chance of getting infected with sexually transmitted diseases. It’s crucial to get educated about HIV and AIDS, as it helps to prevent the spread of the virus.

Living with HIV is not easy, but it’s possible to live a healthy and fulfilling life despite the challenges. I hope my story can inspire and encourage others who may be going through similar situations. Remember, you are not alone, and there is always hope.

By: Anonymous

The post Living with HIV ~ By Anonymous appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

As I reflect on my past, I realize my journey has been marked by moments of lust, anger, and pain. It began when I left for university after a vacation, stepping into a world filled with temptation and choices I wasn’t prepared for.

I found myself drawn to various handsome men who crossed my path. My relationship with Brian couldn’t withstand the strain of my desires, and it ended in anger and violence. It was a bitter chapter, but little did I know, it was only the beginning of a deeper struggle.

Soon after, I became captivated by a classmate, Collin, who reminded me of Ken, my childhood crush. Our secret relationship seemed exciting at first, but it quickly spiraled into something I wasn’t ready for. Despite agreeing to use protection, I found myself pregnant. Fearful of the consequences and desperate for a way out, I chose abortion.

The decision left me hollow, filled with guilt, shame, and trauma. I couldn’t escape the haunting thought: I am a murderer. Collin, instead of offering support, viewed the abortion as merely a solution to his problem. His indifference shattered me further. It became clear that we had both failed to value the life that had been growing inside me.

The aftermath was devastating. Collin started dating my roommate, leaving me with a broken heart and a world of pain. Depression, stress, and trauma consumed me. Yet, even in my darkest moments, I knew I had to heal and move forward.

Looking back, I see that while the experience was painful, it taught me invaluable lessons. Though the journey was harrowing, it has been one of healing, growth, and transformation. The choices I made led me to confront harsh realities about myself and life. Here are the lessons I’ve learned that I hope will resonate with you:

1. Don’t Let Desire Control You
I thought I was in control, but in truth, my lust controlled me. My longing wasn’t just for a man’s embrace; it was an attempt to fill the emptiness caused by rejection and insecurity. I’ve learned to look inward and confront the root causes of such desires. Self-awareness is the first step to regaining control.

2. Violence is Never the Answer
Brian’s anger and violence were a wake-up call. Instead of supporting me through my struggles, he punished me for what I couldn’t fully control. Surround yourself with people who uplift and support you, especially during your weakest moments. Stay away from relationships that perpetuate harm.

3. Take Responsibility for Your Actions
It’s easy to blame others for our mistakes, but growth comes when we own up to our decisions. I blamed Collin for not caring about our unborn child, but I, too, was responsible for how things turned out. This was a hard truth to accept, but it became a cornerstone of my personal growth.

4. Don’t Settle for Someone Who Doesn’t Value You
Collin’s lack of empathy showed he wasn’t the right person for me. Genuine love is evident when someone stands by you in your toughest times. If a person cannot offer kindness and understanding, they are not worth your time or heart.

5. Healing Takes Time
Healing is a process, not an event. It took time to confront the haunting memory of that day—the day I let go of life in a moment of fear and despair. It’s a memory I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Yet, here I stand today, whole and healed. To those who’ve walked a similar path, I sympathize deeply. Forgive yourself, be patient, and don’t hesitate to seek help when you need it.

6. You Have the Power to Choose Your Path
I once felt like a victim of my circumstances, but I’ve learned that I have the power to chart my course. Regret doesn’t have to define you. You can turn your pain into purpose. I’ve chosen to share my story, hoping it will inspire and transform lives. Life is indeed a master, teaching its greatest lessons in the University of Pain. Your past doesn’t determine your future. Use it as a stepping stone to create a better tomorrow—for yourself and others.

Remember, your journey is unique, and so are the lessons you’ll learn along the way. Don’t shy
away from sharing your story. You never know how many lives you might touch and transform.

By Rita Mukisa
#MotherAfricaEchoes
+256 773807806

The post Aborting a Future: The Betrayal appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

The worst plan one can ever have is no plan at all. I was born in a family without a plan. My parents lived on the greater part as reactionaries to their unfortunate experiences. Every major decision they made came as a result of something rather than as a properly plotted course of action. But this does not mean that they weren’t ambitious then or now, or that they had no foresight, rather it means that they built their achievements on fragile foundations.

The Beginning.
In August of 1986, my parents got married in Mbuya parish church under the mission of the Communion and Liberation(CL) movement, a Catholic movement founded in Italy by Father Luigi Giussani to spread the mission of the Catholic faith and strengthen its influence in the world at large. My parents were consumed by his philosophies, and his ideologies and teachings
became their compass in faith. Before their marriage, my parents struck up a friendship that would have probably never graduated into a romance had my mother not become orphaned very suddenly.

My father, in support of his friend, my mother, had travelled across the border to Kenya in the company of his fellow congregants to offer comfort to my mother as she sent off her parents to the afterlife. The news of her parents’ passing had come at a crucial time in her life. She was seventeen and in the middle of completing her Ordinary level exams (O Level). Her class was a historic one. They were the first class to sit for all the science exams separately in Uganda. They were to write Physics, Chemistry and Biology exams separately with practicals for the first time in Uganda’s curriculum and this called for excitement given the fact that her ambition was to become a doctor. She was one right answer away from her dream career and one exam away from vacation with her parents in Kenya. She had missed them and after that year of education, she planned on staying in Kenya for the rest of her educational years. But tragedy had befallen her family and both her parents were killed in a car accident almost at the same time during her final exams. She did her exams with an unbearable grief. “I cried during many of my exams” she had recounted on various occasions and once again grief stood in her eyes like as if her parents had passed that very day. And then she would retell the entire story from start to finish. She would tell us of how our dad had come during the funeral and watched as her
uncles scrambled for property, how her brothers had talked down on her, and how all that he saw had prompted him to protect her from the hellish path that awaited her had she stayed back in Kenya.

Mom recounted all this with staunch misery only to be struck by a streak of hope when she recounted what my father had said to her. “Let’s get married,…and give your sister a home” he had said and in as much as this was abrupt, it presented itself as the best available option. My mother was the second to last child of her parents and her younger sister was barely sixteen when this tragedy befell their family and so, while everybody else sought to enrich themselves from what the dead had left behind, my father had sought to protect my mother from the ill fate which awaited both my mother and her sister after all the ruckus was put to rest. They say that theirs was a love that grew in a hopeless place. One that they wouldn’t have known of had they not faced adversity and opposition. But many love stories come as abruptly as this and falling in love does not in any case qualify for a bad plan.

Our Horrible Plan
For my parents, the worst plan they ever had was us. All nine of us, including the three who died under the age of one. And by saying this I do not exonerate myself from whatever dismay may be brewing up in the minds of whichever moralist has taken the time to read this text. Yet still,I stand firm on what I say. My parents should not have had so many children as they have today. Had they been more industrious and less academic than they are, then maybe their reproductivity would receive much respect from me. However, I was born to a pair of selfless, academic and rather too religious human beings who were bound to fail in the
economic framework of society. They were more focused on their moral standing and appearance in the community than they were focused on their actual problem. They didn’t believe in modern methods of family planning as they went against their religious beliefs and cultures at the same time. In the African Traditional Society, many children are a sign of great wealth but this isn’t the case in my family.

In my family’s case, our big number means and meant great deprivation. As a child, I had four knickers. Two for my time at home and two for going out to school and Church or to the hospital. I had two pairs of shoes, black shoes for school and white kitten heels for Church and visits. I never got a new dress until Christmas time and I could have had only six visiting dresses by the age of six had I not had three older sisters whose dresses I took on once they could no longer fit into them. And yes, we did attend great schools and that is a great plus sign for my parents, but we survived on the bare minimum despite assuming spaces in these great places and schools that our parents struggled to put us in.

To many who are reading this text, I am simply an ungrateful child, and for that I apologise for making you think that way. But planning your family, is like cutting your coat according to your size. It’s like knowing all your resources and allocating them correctly or wisely in order to  secure a wholistic growth for your family. Children born in better planned homes are in most cases able to develop in all aspects of life, and this I have been lucky to witness. I once went to school with a girl called Lorie.(this name has been altered to protect her privacy) Lorie and I had the same abilities. We both loved art, and music, and dance and we certainly had a similar outspokenness on the issues we found concerning. But, in as much as I tried, never in my school life did I beat Lorie at anything. In my family, music was just a hobby and so learning to read it or to play an instrument was simply a luxury so no body bothered with it. When I requested that I be sent to a music school over the holidays to learn something, I was told that my desires were nonsensical luxuries and it was more important to focus on my school work. And so, every time I went back to school, Lorie ranked excellently on talent shows. I was good. I was talented but not skilled as she was. She also always managed to top the class not because she was better than I was, but rather because her parents could afford extra classes, and she always came to school on the first day.

For me, this wasn’t the case. Many times my parents had to prioritize my older siblings who were in much higher classes. They had to make sure they went to school before they cared about the rest of us in the lower classes. Had they had children their finances could handle in surplus, I would probably have gotten at least one chance to rank above Lorie. When I think back on that time and remember the hard work I put into everything despite registering continuous failures, I realize that so much potential among the poor and the middle class is stifled by their meager resources which are often a result of poor planning or no plan at all.

And “children are a blessing” as they say, but this is only so if you can actually take care of them. I know the amount of stress that goes into having stringent finances in regard to one’s responsibilities. I witnessed my parents’ moods and characters go bizarre because of their inability to promptly provide for us. I watched them fail to be able to offer emotional support to all of us because they couldn’t completely understand all our temperaments as we were and still are too many for them keep up with while trying to make ends meet and understand their own psychological predicaments.

Raising a child takes a lot. It’s not just a financial journey. It is an emotional and psychological one as well for both the parent and the child. A child raised in an emotionally stringent home has higher chances of being an under achiever as such conditions breed personality disorders which are listed by many studies as the leading detriments towards development. Therefore, family planning is a major requirement in the fight against poverty.

My high-school headmaster Mr.James Park; God rest his soul, once gave me a sex education talk when he learned that I had a boyfriend then. I was sixteen at the time. He wasn’t happy about it but he knew that this was part and parcel of human growth and so he went on to do the best that he could as my teacher and headmaster”…boys don’t carry these things” He said. “Men are mostly careless but women carry the responsibility of their carelessness” so he added. “I want you to carry a condom. Always. Because only you can protect yourself” I still remember those words as if they were said to me this morning and their impact on my reasoning in regard to development is very vivid.

It is my belief that women should spear head development as it is their responsibility to protect themselves as well as the next generation. So what am I trying to say? What am trying to say is that women should understand that pregnancy happens to them and not to their partners. Therefore, we must take charge of when we have children. We must protect our families and societies from the impact of unplanned pregnancy and child birth as it’s long term and it’s immediate effect is poverty.

Children are not rocks, but even rocks go through weathering, therefore, we must know that the children we bare will grow and as  they grow, so will their needs. This means that your expenditure will go up as you enlarge the population of your family demanding profound financial investments to be made, but if not made, you will succumb to poverty. I took the time to find statistical evidence to back my claims and this is what I found. I urge you to extensively read these texts as they will offer a less emotional outlook on the matter.

Evidence:

1. Global Evidence on Family Planning and Poverty Alleviation: Numerous studies have demonstrated the critical role of family planning in poverty reduction. According to a report by the Guttmacher Institute, family planning programs have been estimated to prevent approximately one-third of maternal deaths worldwide by enabling women to delay or space pregnancies, thus reducing the risk of maternal mortality (Singh et al., 2014).

2. Economic Impact of Family Planning: Research published in The Lancet indicates that investing in family planning yields substantial economic returns, with every dollar spent on contraceptive services generating an estimated $120 in direct and indirect benefits, including savings in healthcare costs and increased productivity (Bongaarts, 2017).

3. Educational Attainment and Family Planning: A study by the World Bank found that family planning has a positive impact on educational attainment, particularly for girls and young women. By enabling women to delay childbearing and pursue educational opportunities, family planning contributes to higher levels of educational attainment, which in turn correlates with higher income levels and reduced poverty rates (Adamchak et al., 2019).

4. Gender Equality and Reproductive Rights: The United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) emphasizes the importance of family planning in advancing gender equality and reproductive rights. Access to family planning empowers women to make informed choices about their bodies and futures, enabling them to participate more fully in economic and social life and escape the cycle of poverty (UNFPA, 2020).

Conclusion:
The lack of family planning represents a fundamental obstacle to poverty alleviation, perpetuating cycles of deprivation and inequality for generations to come. By empowering women to make informed choices about their reproductive health, we can chart a course towards a much more stable economy as women do not just drive their families towards proper allocation of funds when they take on family planning. Women also passively contribute to the economy by purchasing modern family planning methods such as pills, condoms and injections.

Science has yet to balance the boat when it comes to sexual reproductive health, but before it does, we must take charge of the way we reproduce. We should ask questions like; am I ready mentally, physically, emotionally and economically to raise a child? How will this child impact my life out of the emotional scope? Can I take the consequences that come with child birth? And so on and so forth. As we answer these questions, we must also aim at more concrete and logical answer in regard to our situations. Only then shall we be armed and in turn arm our society against poverty as well as conquer other biological detriments such as maternal mortality rates which could come as a result of poor preparation or the lack of it in regard to child birth and could contribute either directly or indirectly towards a poorer community.

The post OUR HORRIBLE PLAN Opinion piece by Luiza Masiga appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

My name is Sophie Ntsubulane, and I was born in the Eastern Cape. I am a 37-year-old African woman with a passion for life, changes, and bettering livelihoods. At the age of 6 years, my mom moved to Orange farm with me and my siblings. we did not know my dad at the time as he was a mine worker. When I was 8 years old, my dad returned home, and we only knew him then, but unfortunately, we never got to bond as he was an abusive, alcoholic father who was then unemployed. My mother was the only one working as a domestic worker; however, money wasn’t enough to give us a decent upbringing.

My educational background was delayed as our home was more of a child-headed family; I had to look after my siblings and ensure every household chore was done daily while my mom was at work. That resulted in me being in grade R at age 9, but that never discouraged me because I had a love for education and the drive to bring change into my life, including my siblings. One day, my teacher intervened as she noticed there was something wrong with me; the case dragged on till they took a decision to send me and my siblings to a foster care children’s home. I spent my teen years in the children’s home care till I matriculated in 2004, but that was the beginning of my second round of life disaster. Home confirmed that they could not keep me any longer because I was done with school, and no funds would be donated under my name as I’m of age. I had to pack and go back home on my last day in matric, leaving my siblings behind.

I arrived home, and my mom had another man and kids. She was then unemployed, an alcoholic and did not care of my added siblings. The situation was even worse. All that drove me to move in with a guy who Is now the father of my kids. We got our shack and shared a life together. 2005, I fell pregnant with my first child; everything changed from then as my partner started cheating on me, abused me and was never the same. Been in an abusive relationship till 2007, when I moved to my new place in Drieziek 5 to start a new life alone. With time moving, I got back with my man, and he then moved to my place.

1 day, I was on Facebook, met this woman via her clothing drive initiative, and it turned out she was going through the same thing; we shared stories and ended up forming a group to register an NPO that focused on women in abuse.  That’s how I came up with Pink Spot. It is now focused on GBV, and there’s 1 exciting one,“ groom a boy child”, which will help deal with the boys at a young age before they grow to be abusive monsters whom we are faced with now as our partners because of all the traumas they endured in their upbringing. At Pink Spot, we also focused on feeding Scheme to the needy and helping children with homework daily. I ended the abusive relationship, now with my kids and focused on my NPO “ pink spot “Their growth and success mean a lot to me.

I love and enjoy helping others. I am Sophie, the so-called “ Mam Sophie” in my area. I am known for change and my strong drive to bring light to those who need it.

Thank you.

The post My name is Sophie, AKA “Mam Sophie” and this is my story. appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

The post Living with HIV appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

I groaned in my torrid feeling as my stomach felt like it was going to explode at any point in time.

‘For what reason would I have opted for this?’ –this was the thought in my head as I kept on fighting the pain inside.

It was late night, and as I lay on the three-seater velvet chair in our living room, my friend was with me. As she was seen panting at the state I was in, her actions explained to me that she felt regretful about the whole thing.

“I hope I haven’t done anything wrong like this.” This was a statement she made as she was trying her best to reduce my pain by patting my stomach with a towel dipped in hot water. A statement she made in Yoruba, though.

Well, it was normal for her to feel that way. It was I who called for her help.

I regretted my decisions at that moment.

‘Why?’

‘Why did I live such a life? Why didn’t I listen to mom or to all the sermons I’ve been hearing?’

‘Why did I let my teenage emotions get the best of me?’

These were the questions I couldn’t voice out due to how tense the stomach ache was.

Little Sis wasn’t home; Mom wasn’t either; she’d traveled out of Nigeria as of then. And yeah, Dad wasn’t with us; he’s been separated from mom for a long time.

It was just me and my friend. I made sure to fight my pain so well that even my neighbors didn’t hear a sound from our apartment.

Yet, I was battling with hell! At the same time, I was pleading mercy. For what exactly? I can’t even say.

Probably I just wanted to live and not die, or it was Jesus that was pleading through my spirit as then.

Some minutes later, I left for the “ladies.” It felt like I was feeling the need to excrete certain things.

Behold, it came out, yeah! it dropped! I was supposed to be excited, but fear shook me! I didn’t know when I blurted out the word. “My baby!”It had formed; I could see the limbs and body shape right inside the water closet.

It was 3 months plus, but I couldn’t keep it. My boyfriend, as of then, did me dirty as he acted nonchalant about the whole thing and left me all to it.

In all honesty, even if he’d asked me to keep it, I wouldn’t. I thought of the pain, shame, rejection, and dreams that would fade off right at the age of seventeen.

He wasn’t my first, but my second, and that was my first pregnancy ever.

You might be wondering: Did I get pregnant again?

Oh yes, I did—twice more! And were gotten rid of as well, for my third boyfriend.

Now, who am I? My name and identity are excluded, but I am a lady who happens to be so rich in emotions; when I love, I love, and when I hate, I hate.

But I was foolish in my thinking; I didn’t utilize my rich emotions so well that I was easily led astray, chattered, broken, and used.

I wouldn’t blame my illness experiences on anyone but myself. I would give no excuses for my actions; I caused my heartbreaks, setbacks, bad happenings in my love life, and other aspects of me. Why? Because’ I felt I understood all I was meant to do—to be and who to be with.

Due to how richly emotional I am, I have faced a terrible toxic relationship and was very much taken advantage of.

I have had four breakups, and all were long-term relationships; the least was a year and a half, while the longest was almost three years with a reduction of a month.

Although I was attending church services, my life was still a mess, and I struggled with almost everything.

The time mom was to travel back to Nigeria, death knocked on her door. And that was how I lost my mama, the breadwinner of the family.

Indeed, her death has caused me a lot of pain up until now.

It all weighed on me. I lost the strength or will to do anything. I kept asking over and over.

“God, what is wrong exactly? Can my life ever be meaningful?” I received no response. Well, I felt I was too dirty for God to speak to.

I decided to stay happy later on and move closer to God.

In my walk with Him, I realized that I had so much pushed God away, which is why He decided not to be involved in the affairs of my life.

It means I was living life with no direction.

I thank God I didn’t die then. What would have become of me in the afterlife?

I became more fervent about the things of God. I started attending a new church, the one my last ex attended. Well, I thank him for that; it was helpful to me—that was before we broke up.

I later joined the new branch of the same church, close to where I live in Lagos, Nigeria, and I found more of God.

He healed my sore heart; he affirmed to me that I’ve been forgiven for a long time, but I needed to forgive myself.

The experience of my mom’s death caused me to start writing, which I had always loved.

Then God told me, I want you to write for me; I want souls to be edified by your skill and lead them closer to the kingdom.

I obliged to this, and today I am a Christian author, a fashion designer, a content creator, a hair oil manufacturer, a happy lover of God, and a singer in the house of God.

The same me who lived a wayward life, aborted three young lives, committed fornication, had terrible anger, lived a stagnant life, lost her mother, and never felt the love of a father is now a great woman of God who God reveals His heart to and gives prophecies to. I am now the same person who men tell, “I celebrate grace, ma.”

I am that person for whom God birthed a ministry from her scars.

I am 27 years old now, although I am still single, but God has already promised me something good and I go with His choice.

Grace found me, and I delight in it.

I hope you can pick out a beat from my story. You’re not forsaken; God still wants to use you. Stop listening to the wrong voice saying you’ve lost all chance. The right voice is that God is calling for you. Hold on to Him so tightly and see a ministry grow in you.

Facebook link:  https://www.facebook.com/oluwabukola.mohammed.7?mibextid=ZbWKwL

Instagram: @spark.isme

TikTok link:

https://www.tiktok.com/@spark_is_me?_t=8lYCzDb6z1J&_r=1

YouTube link:

https://youtube.com/@OluwabukolaMohammedAnny?si=DRdA9a3p3lwBZLyn

The post I call my personal story a ministry in my Scars… appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

My name is Karabo. I’m originally from Mokopane, but I’m now living in Soweto. I dated two guys before I “came out”. I was shy because of the way other lesbians were being treated in the township where I grew up. It was hard, but I’ve realised that that’s not me. Why should I do something that I don’t feel comfortable doing? I was tired of pleasing the whole world. I decided I can’t do this anymore. I have to be me. I have to come out. I love girls.

There’s something about them. Girls are so soft, and I feel safe with them. Guys are so, ugh.

Coming out to my family was OK. I have never sat down and spoken about it with my Mum. But the clothes that she buys for me, I can see that she understands. I ask her how I look. Wearing pants and all that and posing like a guy, she smiles and says, ‘Fantastic!’  It’s what I want. With my siblings, I told them how I felt and how tired I was of being someone that I’m not. My sister said, I have known you forever, so I knew I would someday hear something like that. And with my brother, it was like, come on, you’re always wearing my clothes.

I come from an area where it’s something of a norm for lesbians to be there. But I don’t dress like a girl and don’t want to look like a girl. It’s much more complicated for us because our dress code, habits, and behaviour expose us. There are a lot of hate crimes, and I don’t feel safe anywhere. You can find a group of guys you have been chilling with since you were kids; you go to taverns together and play soccer together. And then, just one day, this guy turns on you, and he rapes you. Just because he wants to correct you.

So now I stay in an environment where, in my hood, especially on the street where I live, the older ladies are much more accepting of me. Some will call me, “My son, how are you doing?” and I’m like “Ok”. And another would ask, “Where’s the bride? When are you getting married?”

But then, some people act like they’re cool, but they’re not. When I go to my aunt’s place, I don’t know anybody there, and I stay in the house the whole time because I don’t feel it’s safe. If I want fun, in a jivey way, I buy the booze and everything I need, go back home, invite a few friends, lock the doors and have fun in the house. I can’t just go to a party where nobody knows me. I’m a girl, and at the end of the day, I have to protect myself.

I guess that people think that if I am like this, I am a man. I’m not saying that I’m a man. I don’t care if they get offended…. but this is me. I want people to appreciate this person. I’m not a lesbian because I hate men. I am a lesbian because it is who I am.

The post I am a lesbian. This is me. appeared first on Sheevolves.world.

It really breaks my heart to think that the people that should be protecting us are the people that are actually hurting us. These are our fathers. These our husbands, our boyfriends,

We have put so much trust in these people, and they just break us down.

My personal story is I have been sexually abused 3 times. The first 2 times were when I was still doing my final year in high school. I decided not to tell anyone about it because I thought that even if I did say something, nothing was going to be done about it.

So I decided I would just swallow it and live my life. And for a very long time, I didn’t tell anyone.

The third time was more violent. I was kidnapped for the whole night, and I was beaten up. And again, I decided not to say anything about it. I think for myself, I blamed myself. I thought if I wasn’t in that situation and I wasn’t at that place, this wouldn’t have happened to me.

I only started talking about it in public when I was at university and joined a women’s group. That is only when I started being open about it. And many of the wounds were healed, but you never get over it.

I feel now that I am surrounded by these women, it is not my fault. And no matter where I was, what I was doing, what they did to me was not right. Those guys took away my power, but only for a moment. Because I decided, I made a conscious decision:

I am going to take my power back!

The only people who can change this situation are women. Because we are the ones who have this problem, so we are the ones who can actually solve it. If we stand up and start talking about it enough, then it will eventually come to an end.

“For to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”

Nelson Mandela

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Nothing hurts more than doing something that you know it’s not good for yourself or others and not even understanding why you are doing it. When I started cutting myself, I knew I didn’t want to die. Having been born and raised in a Christian home, these thoughts – which became actions – made me feel like I was somehow possessed. I was confused and with confusion, I continued hurting myself even more.

The main reason I did not understand why I could even think of inflicting pain on myself was: that I had hopes and dreams; I had a great life with a wonderful family; and a partner who loved me dearly. My career was also doing great. In other words, there was no explanation for all the violent emotions, and desire to hurt myself. In situations like this, it is even more difficult because you can’t even talk about it with anyone. It is embarrassing and you don’t even know how someone else might receive it. I did not understand it myself, how can I make someone else understand… The best way to go about it was to keep it to myself, pray about it and hope that one day it’ll all be gone.

In 2013, my partner, who is now my husband and father to our two daughters, noticed razer marks on the side of my right thing during one of our intimate moments. I was always careful but I guess it was about time that God had a plan for my life. When he found out and started questioning what happened to me, I told him it was an accident and nothing more. However, the precision of the lines deep down in my flesh did not seem like an accident, so he insisted that I tell him the truth.

Later, I realized that I needed help and that’s when I went to my GP who later referred me to a psychologist. I was later diagnosed with severe anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder and posttraumatic stress disorder. Although it was (and still is) not an easy journey to battle with mental health disorders as a black woman, knowing what is wrong with me makes it a little bit easier to navigate through. My therapist has helped explain to me why I might be feeling a certain way and why I might be trying to inflict pain on myself and for the most part, it made so much sense.

I am a 31-year-old mom of two now. Life has not been easy but it has been better ever since I started seeking help. If there is anything I can advise someone who has a problem with self-harm, is that there is help out there, you just need to take the initiative and go look for it. Find someone you can trust and open up to them. You don’t have to walk this journey by yourself. You are not alone.

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I want to talk about the things that happened to me. I am a teenage mom. I had a child when I was 15 years old. I come from a small village, and my parents were not happy.

They sent me to stay with my boyfriend. That is where I experienced this woman’s abuse.

He abused me emotionally and physically. He would beat me almost every day. And when he wanted to sleep with me, he would force himself on me. When he talked to me, he talked to me like I was nobody. He would tell me I was useless and I couldn’t compete with other women. He would say he was better than me and that he deserved more than me. What he said and did totally destroyed me.

I don’t remember exactly what happened that made me leave, but one day I packed my bags and took my child to my parents. They accepted me back, but they were not happy. I am no longer staying with him, but the things that he did to me really destroyed me.

I feel like I am useless, and I feel like I am nobody. I do not have confidence as a woman.

It is really painful.

I always dreamed of myself as being a lifesaver. That is why I did a course to be a paramedic,

because I wanted to save people’s lives. I suppose you could say I am slowly getting my life back together, but he took so many years away from me. I wish I could have got help sooner and would have had the courage to leave him the first time he hit me, but I felt ashamed, and I didn’t feel I had anywhere to go. Now, as a paramedic, when I see women like myself, I let them know they are worth so much more and give them a number to talk to someone and get help. I don’t want anyone else to have to suffer what I went through.

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