Story of childhood abuse and how it messed me up real bad. Hi guys. Firstly, thanks for reading this. This is going to be a long story because I don’t know how to share my experiences any other way. Its the shortest I could come up with. One thing is for sure, my life may have been difficult, strange, painful, confusing but never boring. Quick intro into how it all started back in my childhood. I grew up in a small family of ex army grandfathers so my parents upbringing has been very strict and they certainly raised me the same way. This story begins as an abuse in the family by our father, a mother who never stood up for me, younger sister who was not abused directly but was made to watch and being neglected as if she didn’t matter. My family were not alcoholics nor drug users, in fact they are high earning, high qualified professionals in the upper class. The culture I come from and the army factor has a lot to do with the abuse. Lets say, I was always a free spirit, positive wild child, a rebel even, who loved life and everything in it. Highly creative, spontaneous, lively and doing what I wanted when I wanted not knowing consequences. My father, the authority figure, who has alienated us from the rest of the family, did not like me not listening to him. He used to beat me whenever I went against his wishes, he emotionally and mentally abused me, tried to control me in every way possible, instilled fear into my bones. At 13, I hit him back and cut him just above his eye. He never hit me again. But then the emotional abuse got turned up. He would wake me in the middle of the night eg. to pick up the hair I left in the bathroom and then lecture me, putting me down for few hours. To this day, I have problems sleeping. Verbal abuse was so bad, he would constantly put me down and whatever I did in life, I did to impress him. But nothing ever did. When I was doing exams for uni, he pretended to have a heart attack and then blamed me for nearly dying. When I got into uni, he told me to come back and talk to him when I am a lawyer like he was. He called me names, like monkey, dumb goose etc. He also messed with my self esteem. He bought a bike for himself to lose weight, then he made me jump on it because my legs were as fat as telegraph poles as he said. I still don’t dare wear shorts and skirts to this day. He shattered my self esteem. We would eat dinner and if I placed anything in the way of his view, he would smash it so violently, yell and look at me with a death stare in his eyes. I will never forget that stare and when I see it in other people, I run far away. I also flinch and jump at the sudden loud noises all the time. He never let me do anything with my life as I wanted. I am a creative person but I wasn’t allowed to pursue my interests but had to either follow in their profession or find my own of equivalent value. I was into sports, but he kept saying sports people are dumb. I was into music (he thought me how to play piano by the way, he’s very creative, I get everything from him, except his ugly side). Wasn’t allowed to do any of that. As a 7 year old, I started writing my feelings down, but never disclosing what actually happened as they would read my stuff, yell and mock me. But what I did write is the feelings of nobody loving me in a poetic way. I have been writing ever since and it is my ultimate weapon against depression. I’m having a hard time writing this down and am perhaps not doing a great job and going into too much detail, but opening up like this and letting out all the little things that killed me slowly, has been very hard but rewarding. I’m trying not to break down right now as I write this. The funny thing is, half of the time, he was a loving father, who gave me all the beautiful things I love, like music, poetry, books, films, fairy tales, philosophy. He thought me to view life in a beautiful poetic way, gave me all the beauty only to take it away. I was his favourite, and we had a special bond. Mother and sister envied the bond we had. Similar like eggs, mother would say. When I would get upset about how he treated me, she would say I was exaggerating and making things up. She said it wasn’t as bad as I remember it. Mother wasn’t very motherly, she was the bread maker in the family, father raised us even though he was very high up in his profession. She was on the side line, watching his abuse toward us including herself and doing nothing. She didn’t represent anything to me but a biological mother, a teacher and financial supporter. I could never get affectionate with her and felt awkward hugging and touching with her. There was no I love you, in my family, there was no crying allowed as per normal sad things happening but it was ok to cry and scream when abuse was happening. One day at 13, I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything seemed to happen at 13. I flipped, hit him back, hit the bully at school and reclaimed myself. Yes I was bullied at school by several people, then at home. I had no escape. My only escape was the swing near our house and my music. My bike also. I’d get on the bike and go far away, not even knowing where I’m going. Riding in between trucks for 8 hours at the time, freedom. Then I would return with mother waiting for me in front of the building we lived at. She would beg me to tell him the truth of where I have been so he would go easy on me. I didn’t care, I wasn’t telling. I was stubborn and a rebel, and I’d rather be beaten to death then bow down to this monster. Yes he was a monster at times, and at other times he was my hero. He would mentally abuse me first for an hour or so, yelling and intimidating me with verbal violence, throwing things and sudden movements. Then when I refused to speak, he would beat me for hours, on and off. I would sit in the corner of that room, either focusing on the dot on the wall while sobbing ,short of breath and I would look at my stockings, tearing little holes the entire night until the were completely ripped. This is how I got through it but never telling him a thing. He would eventually get tired and try to make it up to me and tell me that he’s sorry, he was angry, didn’t mean it and he loves me more than anyone in this world. That we are so similar and that’s why we clash. Then I would go to bed, shaking and having those short breaths, hiccup style crying without tears for couple of hours before I’d fall asleep. Then I would wake up covered in my own urine. I didn’t wet the bed all the time but after those nights I did. I even did it once in school excursion and had the whole school find out and laugh at me and mock me for the rest of school. At 13 this stopped, he never hit me again. Psychological abuse got turned up. One day, I saw no way out. I wished mother would leave him and we would go and live with her. I wanted to run away but how would I survive? I didn’t want to be homeless, I had no family and friends to go to. We were isolated in a small mining town, away from family. No socialising was allowed in my family, nobody was allowed to come inside our house. I barely ever had any friends. So one day I decided to end my life. It was the day he would make me feel like family slave. Making me clean stuff, while everyone else was eating and having good time. Just putting me down non stop. I was breaking apart on the inside, I was planning my suicide. I wanted it to be special and dramatic, I wanted him to know what he did to me. I hoped he would feel bad about it for treating me this way. I still believed he loved me somehow, after all I was his favourite. Victim. Took me 30 years to realise this. So I took a bunch of pills, sleeping ones and some muscle relaxants to the bathroom with me. I locked myself in there, sat down, looked in the mirror, cried and talked to myself, as I was parting with myself and my life. I loved life so much, I loved adventure, nature, sports, music, poetry, books, animals, sunrises and sunsets and I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to die. But I had no choice. He took it all away from me. All these things I loved were just a fantasy somewhere in some other life while I was stuck here in hell with a monster. How could he do this to his own child? How could mother allow him? How could they say I made it all up? So I cried and cried until run out of tears and then took lots of pills. Went back to the kitchen and continued with cleaning, thinking any moment now, it will be over. So then I started feeling dizzy, fell over and broke a plate. I was unconscious. Only to wake up in his arms trying to revive me. He kept asking me what I took, and kept telling me I’m ok now coz he saved me. He took me to bathroom and showed his arm in my throat, making me vomit. Then he made me walk all day so I didn’t fall asleep. I was back in the nightmare, I should have cut my wrists, I thought, but I wasn’t good with blood, so that wasn’t an option, I would faint before I’d make a cut. So now I had to hear how he saved my life, for the rest of my life. He once again, was the hero. Not once did he ask me why I did it. Because apparently, everyone knew, I was the sensitive, too emotional of a child, trouble maker, defiant even crazy. The stuff just kept on happening and just before my 16th birthday, we moved overseas. He gave up his life for us, kids. Another story of fatherly love and sacrifice, we’d hear for the rest of our lives. He never worked again. Mother was sole provider, until he made me work as well, taking all of my financial earnings for 5 years. It was for family to help survive abroad. I didn’t care about the money, I just wanted to be loved and proud of. So then he came up with this plan to buy a house, well, mother and me together, which will eventually become mine. Because he loved me, wanted to secure me, do his fatherly thing. Or was it also that this was the only way to control me for a long time. But no matter what he did, he could never control me. I would rather die and would do anything to get away from him, even though I still loved him and felt we were special. I though he had anger issues and didn’t mean it. I thought it was our culture, and everyone from there was like this. I thought it was normal and I believed that was something wrong with me to tick him off like that. But deep down I knew, I was a good one and he was messed up, everything was wrong with him and our family dynamics. I knew I was ok. Didn’t even occurred to me that he was abusing me, abusing us. I believed his incredible stories of how the whole world, including his family and friends were against him and us, so he saved us aka isolated us for abuse. I barely know my mothers side of family, I have cousins I have never even met. I feel alone in this world to this day, And I feel that nobody loves me or cares about me. And I am 34 years old now. So one day, I saw a way out there. There was a guy from my work, who happened to be my boss and I liked him. Or did I? I don’t even know. He was 25 and I was 17. I was a hard worker, a nice person despite everything. I never saw this opportunity as that, an opportunity to get out. I just dreamed of happy free life away from him, away from all the drama. It never occurred to me at the time, that I might have used somebody to get out of my situation. I felt incredible guilt and shame when I realised that I might have done that. I still don’t know my true feelings, everything is so mixed up. I guess my survival code has kicked in and I believe has been turned on ever since. I moved away with this guy, he had decent salary and I didn’t need my money. I just got drunk one day after my father abused me real bad, telling my grandfather that I was a whore for having sex with an Asian. I was a virgin. Never had sex for one year into that relationship. I made sure I’d wait at least until I was 18. I don’t believe my father told my grandpa, who was the only positive thing in my life, once a year during holidays. So I got drunk when my parents went shopping, listening to Santana’s Maria song over and over again. Got a garbage bag, filled it with clothes and took my stereo system. My little sis saw me leaving, she cried hysterically begging me to stay. I just had to go. I could not survive there. So I unplugged phone cord and went to my bf’s. We moved away. I was ready to be disowned for good as father threatened it if I ever left. But as soon as they got home, they rang and rang and tried to get me back. I told them I’m not coming back and not to call me. For 2-3 months there was no contact. It was bliss to be free. But then I felt bad and rang them. We started talking regularly, and he was sorry. He was so nice, a father I was waiting for to arrive. Eventually we agreed on dinner. It was the best moment with my father in a lifetime so far. Finally he was normal and realised what he had done and this time apart has made him think and change. He was sorry for all of it, he suffered and was ready to make it up to me. Another few months later and I agreed to move back home. Biggest mistake ever. He never changed. Everything started again, even worse than before. One time he ignored me for 2 weeks. I wasn’t even welcome in the house. I had to tip toe around him to get some food after they had dinner because I wasn’t even allowed to eat dinner with them. I don’t even remember why. Anyway, I moved out again and this time for good. After 4 years with my first bf, we broke up because I met someone else. Lived with him for a year, then I met someone else. Fell in love, this time for real. I still communicated with my father every few days, went to visit monthly, he even gave me a third of my money. He never wanted to meet any of the guys I was with. So our love turned into an intense sexual relationship with sick fantasies but never acted on. The best sex I ever had. But then he became very jealous and controlling, and at the first sign of that I turn cold and start looking for next one I guess. Never seen it that way but now it looks that way. I guess I subconsciously did what I had to do to survive. So after another 5 years of relationship number 3, I met my current one. I fell in love with his smarts and how laid back he was. I could be myself with him, I could be free, he didn’t judge, he didn’t restrict me. By then I needed all my money, so went to visit my family and a massive fight broke out. Father lost it and in anger, gave me all of my money. Life was starting to feel normal for me. I didn’t realise that father has put it all on my sister now. She was his victim now and she secretly despised me and hated me for leaving that day. She even said it to me in heated arguments. I thought my life was finally good, but boy was I wrong! The worst was yet to come. Me and my partner now, have gone through couple years of partying, drugs and alcohol. He was into it his whole life while having a great job, a high functional drug addict. I smoked some pot previously and had few drinks, but that’s about it. I was innocent and not a party goer. He corrupt me hard, helped me make up on my youth and fun I missed, showed me the world. I was like a 10 year old who couldn’t get enough of ice cream. Through out my entire life I was a walking mess, throwing tantrums at everything and being hurt so easily, always feeling unloved and as if people I cared about were out to hurt me. I never fully trusted anyone and never fully gave my whole self to anyone. At the smallest signs of betrayal even imagined, I would get so angry and say the most hurtful things to people that cared about me and loved me. I would jump out of moving cars, breaking things, hitting walls with my fists, hitting myself in the head, cutting myself engraving “die” on my arms amongst other things. I became a horrible person to others, treating them badly. I saw my father in myself and I was ashamed. I knew deep down that I wasn’t that person. At first signs of men wanting to leave me, or cheat, even imagined, I’d leave them first. I’d burn all the photos and erase them from my life like they never happened. Never speaking or seeing them again. I’d start a new life over and over again from the beginning. My new partner put up with all my issues and helped me realise, this wasn’t normal. Drugs, alcohol and parties made me forget everything and I had fun while at the same time, doing great with my job and progressing. Life was finally good and I started to change and trust somewhat. Until I had an injury at work and have been treated unjustly and being bullied by the bosses. Then I quit because I couldn’t take it and put up with further abuse. This was the beginning of my downfall and I had no idea it was coming. Drugs and more drugs non stop, mainly pot and alcohol until one day my partner brought home meth. Through out this whole thing, I was slowly getting deeper into my own mind, a place of darkness, where my father lived and continued to abuse me and control me. I would still visit occasionally but less and less. My family had no clue of my drug addiction, I hid it well. I was not eating much, nothing healthy ever, I was stoned for 2 years straight and then I was smoking meth for 3-4 months. I already wasn’t sleeping much but now wasn’t sleeping at all. I stayed up all night for days, reading about psychology, trying to figure myself out in order to fix me. Even though I was lost in my own mind, I never stopped searching for answers and ways to fix my broken self. I knew deep down I had to dissect myself and revisit my past in detail, analyse and rebuild. I knew it was a huge risk and I might not come out alive. But I hoped I was strong enough to handle it. After all, I survived all of it so far. I studied myself and my behaviour, brain chemistry, abuse, all of it. It only then occurred to me that my father was abuser and he abused our entire family. It broke me. My hero, my father was not only an abuser, but a narcissist. I didn’t want to believe it. I left it at that as I wasn’t strong enough to deal with it right at that time. I spiralled into deep depression after I quit meth as I felt I was going to die unless I quit. Cold turkey, with no faith in the system or anyone but myself, I knew I was going to struggle. Depressed and anxious to the point of not leaving the house for months, I spent my days in dark room alone while my partner was working long hours and then we pretended everything was ok in the evenings. He refused to get into it as he had his own childhood abuse to deal with and unlike me, he never wanted to revisit it. He prefers ignorance over dealing with it. I resented him for that, for letting me slowly die. I felt he didn’t love me and was cold. He was never good at intimacy and affection towards me and tried to make up for it other ways. But nothing would make up for that in my book. All I ever wanted was love and affection. Things I never had. And friends. I still don’t have any. I tried numerous times and every time, it looks promising, they always leave me. Anyway, I gave up meth and was going through withdrawals hard on my own daily. With no connection to the outside world, I turned to internet to form some sort of friendships to keep me sane. I made some good friends online who practically saved my life and turned out to be better friends than real ones. I also had a cat who I loved more than any human and he loved me back unconditionally, even when I was mean to him. He was a little rebel like myself and we got on very well. The only reason I got up out of bed each day for months was to feed my cat and clean his litter box. I will forever be grateful to my cat for keeping me alive. I was still smoking pot daily and my mind was slowly slipping away but I haven’t even realised. Until one day, I was acting crazy, yelling and screaming at my partner, at anything, believing crazy stuff, being too spiritual, talking to my dead grandma and my father through a magic tree in my balcony view, This tree was a transmitter of thoughts to special ones. Through it, I could tell my dad anything I never could in real life. I got to know him this way, and it sounds crazy, but lots of things happened then that made sense even though it was crazy stuff. So at my worst, deep into psychosis (of which I had no clue, haven’t even heard of it then) my partner left me at my craziest and most vulnerable. He skipped the country. I forgot to mention, that during our drugged out days on meth, he turned so cold that when I was acting out he would start physically to abuse me. He would push me so hard number of times until I fell and hit my head on the concrete. One time after a party, he did it again for no apparent reason, I fell in the ditch by the side of the road. But this time I didn’t get back up to try and push him back, this time I felt worthless and like I deserved it. He broke me. I felt I was piece of shit, not deserving of life, nobody ever liked me and nobody ever would love me. I was a horrible person and as I lie there in the middle of the night, I hoped somebody would stop and kill me, rape me, do whatever they want because I deserved it. My partner has long gone, leaving me in the ditch, in the middle of the night, drunk, with no money and no clue where I was and how to get home. So anyway, this behaviour continued for a while causing me to even stab myself once, all trying to get his attention, trying to get him to care about me and love me, feel sorry for me, help me. Anything. But he never did. So cold he was, no emotion on his face, his eyes were cold, he was dead inside. Then he left me in the middle of my raging psychosis. Left the country, flew out, leaving me at my own mercy of crazy mind. For 2 days I raged. I was living in my own apartment I bought with mum and all things in it belonged to my parents, most of anyway. I broke everything, TV’s, computers, smashed glass all over walls, threw food all over the place, broke balcony door, threw away the key, threw out all jewellery partner bought me, made a hole in the bathroom door imagining it was a portal to some other world, a parallel world where I was happy and people loved me. Some other reality. I flooded the house, even tried to drown my cat, pretending I was preparing it for tough life to come as somehow I knew they were coming for me and I won’t be able to look after it. I even did a number 2 on the floor, talking to my father, saying to him that I didn’t want his damn house, and therefore I shit on it. All I wanted was his love and approval and him to be proud of me. I even drank detergent. So 2 days of this and cops finally turned up. I was ready. I packed my necessities, I knew I was going away, felt it coming. And even though I was losing my mind, I still knew exactly what was going on and never lost any memory or had a blackout. I was ready. I knew then how strong my mind was, and that I can get through anything on my own as always. The cops treated me like an animal, dragged me down the stairs, didn’t even let me take my bag or jacket, lucky I put 10 pairs of undies on me because I had a feeling this would happen and I needed at least clean undies. The whole building watched me being humiliated by the cops, they handcuffed me and threw me at the back of the van. I sang Amy Winehouse’s Back to black on top of my lungs as they were taking me away. Next minute they dropped me off at the mental hospital. I thought, I’ll be out by tomorrow and finally I’ll get a psychologist to help me out. But it wasn’t how it happened. In that place if you act crazy, they can lock you up for as long as they want. I was in with very mentally ill people, some drug induced, some not. Some violent as well. The moment I got there I met some amazing people who helped me get through the whole thing, I never looked at them as crazy. I saw them as people with beautiful souls whose lives went wrong and they weren’t strong enough to deal with it. I was lucky I could endure so much. I started helping others less fortunate than me. I drew a tree of life and gave them belief in something beautiful and positive. I wrote poems and put it all over the hospital. I spoke of the rose that grew from concrete and listened to them. I loved them all and they loved me back equally. First time in my life I had real friends who loved me unconditionally. The violent ones were calm and my protectors, we became best of friends. The old guy who had anger issues, was a grandfather figure, and this other guy was a singer who sang Bob Marley songs I grew up with. I’d go for runs with him every morning to shake off the drowsiness of medication, then we’d sing. All of us would make plans of trips to spiritual places in nature after we get out. There was another older guy who represented my father. He was strict and tough, but in time, he’d open up slowly. His father was dying and he had a breakdown because of it. One thing I missed most was music. Had no phone, no anything at all. When I was very down, he would play halleluya for me. I will never forget it. Every morning, I would cry my eyes out in the shower, so they can’t see, because they consider that mentally unstable and would never let me out. Then I’d go out there, get through the day and help everyone. I helped them stay calm and we would meditate in the sun in front of this massive tree which was our tree of life. Even nurses loved me and they said, they have never seen these guys so happy before, they said they wished that I leave soon and never come back because I didn’t belong there. Some even suggested that I do something with helping people in the future. The only way to help myself was to help others. I’ve always felt other people’s pain, even the most reactive ones, I knew what was going on behind the scenes for them to react this way. I have a soft spot for all struggling souls out there and never judge them. I pretended I was in a movie and anytime now, the curtains will open up and everyone would clap for a great film. My vivid imagination helped me get through the worst time of my life and made it into the most memorable. The most depressing time in that place was me and my partners anniversary. Up until that point I have decided to erase him from my mind so that I can save myself and survive this. But that evening I broke down in front of my friends for the first time. First time, I wasn’t stronger than them. They were there for me like nobody ever was before, they helped me get through it. They loved me back. The first time in my life I felt what it was like to be loved and cared for. In a place like that of all places. Life is strange and it will lead you where you need to be as long as you never give up. I was dying and didn’t even know it because of my stubbornness and will to live and never stop searching for answers. Another hard day was my birthday. Yes I spent my 30th birthday in there. The next day, was a day of my release. Some people in the system, liked me so much, they promised me I would be out by my birthday. Close enough. They worked so hard to try and get me out and I will be forever grateful for that because I could’ve been stuck in there for months. As much as I loved the people there, it wasn’t my life, I wasn’t supposed to end like that. So on my last day there was an emotional parting with everyone. There was this guy who would just walk up and down the halls all day and never spoke. Until he would go into crazy violent rage and outburst and they would take him away for a while. He was known for speaking to God, but he never spoke to anybody else. On my last day, he called me over pointing at me with his finger. I went, a little cautious but not scared. He spoke to me as everyone including nurses and doctors were stunned and starring at us. He never spoke, ever for 2 years. He said: ” I spoke to God this morning ” and I asked him what did He say? he said ” He said that your purpose is to continue to help people”. We smiled at each other and shook hands goodbye. I had tears in my eyes. For once I didn’t view myself as a horrible person. Maybe I wasn’t bad. Maybe I was a good person who struggled so much in this life, who made mistakes and hurt people but never on purpose. So since then, I reconciled with my partner and moved countries. It was hard at first. I couldn’t trust him and didn’t feel safe. I started working again, but stresses of it caused me to start smoking pot again, occasionally. Until one day, I got psychosis again, but this time was different, it was positive and I was studying and reflecting on my life. I came out of it on my own without dramas. I’ve become a healthy, fitness person and I sleep a lot better now. I quit drugs but never for good. Every now and again I need my escape. But I know how much I can handle now, and I know early signs of psychosis. I ended up leaving my job again because another abusive boss. Just can’t handle it, feel like I will break again. I’m planning to study something I like in the future and make my life mine, even if it takes me a lifetime. I will never give up on myself and allow my past and the way people I loved treated me, to ever define me. My spirit they never changed. My behaviours are slowly changing, and my brain is reversing the damage. Its slow and painful process and I have bad days all the time. I have come to terms with who my father is, and that he is sick. I forgive him but don’t allow him to control me in any way. everything is on my terms now. Meanwhile my sister is still there, stuck with him at 30 and he is worse and worse towards her and mum. I go there occasionally to give them a break as he is on his best behaviour while I am there and I get to take them out of there for a little bit. I forgave my mum and learnt that she, herself is a victim of abuse, but refuses to see it as it might break her, and she needs to be around for us. During my time in hospital, the only person who cared and rang me every day, and even came to see me sometimes was mum. Yup, my father never dared to. When I needed him the most. I knew it then. He never loved me, he was sick. Mother gave me the best, most solid, rational advice which carries me through my darkest times and helped me come out of that nightmare. She told me she can’t go to some places as it will destroy her. So she is aware but she is tower of strength in our family. And her heart is pure and innocent. She said last time I saw her, that he is sick and without her who will take care of him, who will love him. She said all the rest she can handle. I still don’t agree with the fact that he comes first before us, but I forgive her because she is a loving and caring person, most positive and strong. I guess I’m a lot like her and didn’t even know it. I’m not at all like my father as I thought, as he made me believe. In the last 5 years of hell, me and mother became close for the first time and almost made up for lack of relationship. Now we are trying to get my sister out there but its proving to be very difficult. I still feel very guilty about her. She has been suffering her own way and being all over the place herself. Anyway, as I speak now, am going yet through another hardship with my partner. 8 years together, I don’t want to be with anyone else but he still doesn’t show affection and intimacy towards me and I feel unloved even though I understand rationally. He is way too rational which prevents him to fully experience life and feel things to the fullest. I know its his weapon against pain and suffering but he is hurting me with it. We talk about this but he refuses to put effort in it and change. I’m struggling again and want to run away and start a new life somewhere else. But I love it here. I will never find another place like this. I’m trying my hardest to deal with all this but feel its one sided. Anyway, that is another story, This one is long enough. Whatever you are going through in life, know that there is a way out and you will come out better and stronger. You are strong, you are made to survive and fight. Never give up the fight. Because you deserve happiness like everyone else and it is not your fault some bad things happened. You can always change yourself and the situation no matter how hard it seems. Believe in yourself and love yourself. You were given life to grow and learn ,experience, love, hurt, all of it. Its a part of you in the making. Don’t give up half way. I’m still going and will never stop. Thank you for listening to my ramble. P.s I’m still terrified father will find this and I know I’m an adult now and he cant control me anymore, but I still get my heart racing at such thoughts and many other things but I just keep on fighting and trying to stay brave. As long as it takes.
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