My Story

The purpose of this blog page is to open the door for communication through using my voice about my story. I want to empower individuals who are or have been victims of child sexual abuse to find their voice as I have found mine.

While I have told my story at various events in front of rather large crowds, I realized I’m missing a group of people that see me through social media. This first post will be about my story as a survivor of child sexual abuse.

Disclaimer: Some of the things you are going to read may be difficult to hear and/or may trigger traumatic events.


My story begins as early as I can remember in a small town called Borger, Texas. I lived as an only child in a home with my biological father. At age 5 my father began a technique called grooming by taking showers with me and asking me to wash his body parts as well as him washing mine. The grooming quickly turned into what is called conditioning by way of fondling. After fondling became normal, it was never enough. At about age 6 or 7, I was purposefully exposed to a pornographic VHS tape that I was required to watch. Several years went by where I was being fondled weekly, but to me it seemed like normal interaction between father and daughter.

Fast forward a couple years and my dad got married. Although the sexual abuse slowed down tremendously, it did not stop. A year after they were married, they got a divorce and we moved into a new home, just me and my dad. Our next home was a one bedroom apartment in the backyard of an elderly woman’s house. This house would be the place where the abuse would increase heavily. My dad began using the excuse of needing to check if I was going to start my period as a means of touching me sexually. To make matters worse, a one bedroom house meant sleeping in the same bed with my dad every night. Often times I would wake up to my dad touching my private parts.

I got the opportunity to participate in the great sport of wrestling for the majority of my childhood and began wrestling in Borger when I was 8. After my first year, the program was discontinued for lack of participation and someone buying out our facility. I then transferred to a club team in Amarillo, TX called Maverick Elite which required an hour drive to practice and an hour drive back. You’ll find with many child sexual abuse cases there is co-occurring abuse. My father had an extreme issue with alcohol where he would drink until he was inebriated daily. I would be busting my butt getting beat up in the practice room with boys while my dad sat in the car and drank. Somehow my dad decided drinking and driving isn’t safe anymore so he figured,  “let’s teach my 10 year old to drive” (stick shift).

At a tournament in Lubbock, Texas my dad got extremely drunk and was screaming at me during a match in front of everyone. Now of course I won the match, but it was by tech fall and not by pin so he was angry with me and began shoving me out the door. One of my awesome coaches followed us and told my dad to knock it off which resulted in an argument. My dad was later arrested and I moved to Amarillo to stay with my Nana.

A couple months passed and child welfare allowed me to move back in with my father as he had completed services for alcoholism. My dad got an apartment at the Quail Creek Apartments in Amarillo and I started my new life in a new city. The majority of the worst part of my abuse happened in that apartment. No longer was it just fondling, awkward kisses, or forced oral sex, but now it had upgraded to intercourse. I was treated like a wife, not a child. I was expected to kiss him before he left for work, clean the house and stay at home all day during summer breaks, have lunch ready for him when he got home, and get him a beer when he wanted one after work. Once again in a one bedroom apartment, my dad slept on an air mattress in what would be the dining area. The most profound way to explain precisely what sexual abuse is like, in my opinion, is a memory of laying on his air mattress trying to push away from him until I hit the wall and there was no where else to go no matter how much I tried to get away. My dad had a plan that if I ever got pregnant we would blame a boy I went to school with to cover it up. Also, part of my discipline at that point was oral sex and he would tell me “you have 20” which stood for the notion of down and up equals one as to oral sex. The abuse was happening in some form at least once a week.

I ended up telling child welfare that I didn’t want to live with my dad because he was an alcoholic and I went to live with my paternal Aunt for a couple of months, then returned back with my dad.

The abuse of course continued to the point where if I wanted to do anything with my friends then I had to do something for him. One day, my dad got extremely drunk and threatened to take wrestling away from me so I told him he should just kill me because wrestling is my life. My dad hit me in the head twice and began strangling me to the point where I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to die. The next day I had shot blood vessels in my eyes, which I blamed on wrestling, and my dad bought me some shoes to make up for it.

Fast forward to October 22, 2008 I was 15 years old and my dad dropped me off at Tascosa High School and I knew that would be the last time I saw him. I went to the front desk at my school and although all the counselors were in a meeting I told the AG teacher who was watching the front desk that that my dad “does things to me”. I completed a forensic interview at The Bridge and my dad was arrested that day thanks to my amazing team.

My dad is still serving time and was sentenced with 45 years and 20 counts of sexual abuse to a minor.

The purpose of this blog is not to make you uncomfortable, but to educate you that this happens everyday to kids all over the world. If you have a story that you need to tell, please share it. You can email me or direct message me on social media if you need someone to talk to. I encourage you today to find your voice and speak up for yourself.



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