About Amylia

This blog is the private thoughts, ideas, and opinions  of a person who has been though too much, seen too much, and doesn’t accept the narrative given to us on the internet.

I’m not ok. We live in a world where being not ok is stigmatized. Where being a victim and survivor is stigmatized. How dare we be broken. How dare we accuse people of hurting us.

You shouldn’t be ok either. This blog is all about destigmatizing abuse and devillifying the abuser. Often the abuser is an other broken unhealed person. This isn’t to say that those who rape, molest, beat, lie, steal, cheat and murder didn’t do horrific things. I do believe that if we stop vilifying the abuser they can be helped and in that we can destigmatize the abused. If we stop seeing the abuser as an accused person, maybe, just maybe we will listen better to the abused.

I grew up with monsters. As you will see through my narrative, I know what they are like. And not once in my entire childhood or adulthood did I wish them ill will in return. They were monsters, yes, they did very terrible things to myself and others. They were also victims of their childhoods and deserved gentle treatment.

My father, I respected him, I loved him. Even after his death I mourn him. I mourn the relationship we both deserved and didn’t get. Despite what kind of man I came to the realization that he was. Despite finding out and figuring out all the horrific things he did. I didn’t wish him harm. I wished him healing. And I put enough distance between myself and him so that I didn’t become another one of his murder victims. A woman has to live, to survive. I do believe that if my stepmother wouldn’t have been the manipulative NPD person she was, we might have stood a chance at a relationship. I have so much to say about this. About her, about who he became married to her. About how she kept me ripped apart form any love or support, refused to let me have relatives or friends. How isolated she kept me. These are all post for future days.

Who Am I?

That is the real question isn’t it. I was born in California. I have lived in half the states in the united states of America. I have made many mistakes and have a few deep regrets. I do my best to be a good person, an educated person, a hardworking and selfless person. Despite the lies spread about me, despite how hard these two people tried to destroy me and hurt me and ruin my life, I tried to be kind most of all. Being kind and good and smart should lead to a happy life. A fulfilled life. We can hope right.

I can tell you that right off the bat I am not being honest. Amylia isn’t my real name. Its a name I wished I could have changed my name to. It fits me more than the ancient words my mother gave me as a name that has stigmatized me my whole life. I know she meant well. I cannot tell you the names of relatives or family or where I was born and raised. I will change those names to protect the people I love and deeply care about in my life. These names are secrets I must hold. You will forgive me right?

Who are we? I believe that’s something that is always changing, we are becoming rather than being. I could prattle on about my half achieved accomplishments or the many places I’ve worked, people I’ve met, or places I’ve been. I could tell you how I served god with all sincerity to the point of near martyrdom. But those things aren’t who we are. We are definitely not the knowledge we posses or the things we own either. We are what we do, I suppose. But this philosophical question will have to be reserved for one of the many many future posts as I work through my past, work on my inner self, and research so many things.

For now, I am a middle aged, morbidly obese person who works at home and finally allows themselves the peace and joy of hobbies. Someone deeply in love and awe of my husband, of nature, of life. I am someone who has deep respect for others, save a few. Someone for which life has always been so very difficult and has always stood up and not put up with it. Someone who is here to tell her story and say “You got this, you can rise again, you can escape, you can do what feels impossible.” And this blog is where I get to let it all out, to hang my dirty laundry to air out.