Dear Laven:

I read every word of your original post, and I find myself at a loss for words. I am utterly stunned by the immense hunger and abuse you, your brothers, and your mother endured—, abuse at the hands of her family, the man you refer to as your “alleged bio father,” and strangers who took advantage of you.

Reading your story fills me with sorrow and anger—anger at the cruelty and indifference you endured, and sorrow that no one intervened to stop the abuse. What you and your brothers went through is unimaginable. It’s devastating that the very people who should have protected you—family, caregivers, teachers—failed so completely. And the strangers who preyed on your vulnerability, exploiting you when you should have been safe and cared for, are despicable beyond words.

“When I entered school, at 5 ..soon after I was molested… by a staff teachers assistant… An older man who seemed like the sweet lovable grandfather type… I never told anyone irl… I went to school and just endured the daily molestation.”- What you endured at such a young age is heartbreaking and deeply unjust. The fact that someone who seemed trustworthy—a teacher’s assistant—betrayed that trust and harmed you is absolutely despicable. No child should ever have to endure such abuse, let alone face it daily and in silence.

It’s devastating that you felt unable to tell anyone, and that no one noticed or intervened to protect you. You deserved safety, care, and support, but instead, you were left to endure unimaginable pain alone.

“My bio mom was heavily pregnant with me and was pushed down the stairs and beaten badly by my alleged bio father… he told the 3 of us kids that he never wanted us in the first place, that it’s our fault he wasn’t living in the household, that he didn’t love us, that we ruined everything… He showed up crying when his mother passed.”-

Laven, the cruelty and heartlessness of your alleged biological father are staggering. To harm your mother while she was carrying you, to reject and blame you and your siblings for his own failures, and to openly declare that he never wanted you—these are acts of profound selfishness, physical and emotional violence. No child should ever have to hear such words, let alone endure the actions that accompanied them.

What stands out as painfully ironic is how this man, who showed no compassion for his own children or their mother, could weep for the loss of his own mother. It’s as if the only love he was capable of was reserved for her, while he denied that same love and care to the family he created.

His actions reflect a deep failure of character—one that caused immense pain to you, your siblings, and your mother. Yet, despite his cruelty, you survived. You are here, sharing your story, and that is a testament to your strength and resilience. You deserved so much better than what he gave, and his inability to love or protect you is a reflection of his flaws, not yours.

“I… often let grown men molest me in order to feed my family… These men would offer to buy some groceries in exchange. So I let them.”- What you endured is heartbreaking beyond words. No child should ever have to make such unimaginable sacrifices just to survive and provide for their family. The fact that you were forced into this situation speaks to the devastating failure of the adults and systems around you—the ones who should have protected you, cared for you, and ensured your safety.

It’s enraging that these men exploited your vulnerability instead of helping you. Their actions were cruel and unforgivable, and the burden they placed on you is something no child should ever have to carry.

Your strength in surviving this is extraordinary, even though you should never have had to endure such pain. You deserved love, care, and protection—not the suffering you faced.

“At 6 I was kidnapped and held in a cage.”- You deserved safety, love, and protection, but instead, you were caught in a relentless cycle of harm. It’s deeply unjust, and yet, through it all, you survived. That speaks to your incredible strength, even in the face of unimaginable hardship.

“One time my youngest brother, took one of the 5lb weights off the dumbbell and struck out mom in the head with it, calling her all kinds of horrible names.”-

It’s heartbreaking to see how the cycle of abuse continued within your family, with your youngest brother lashing out in such a violent way. Abuse often begets abuse—it creates a ripple effect, where the pain and trauma inflicted on one person spill over onto others. Your brother’s actions, while inexcusable, reflect the immense emotional damage he endured, growing up in an environment filled with neglect, violence, and instability.

“When our grandmother saw that we were eating, she yelled at us and threw the food that we were eating in the garbage…”- What your grandmother did was cruel beyond words. She denied hungry, malnourished children the basic dignity of eating. Her actions reflect a complete lack of compassion and humanity, and it’s devastating that she treated you and your siblings with such disdain.

The rest of her behavior—the favoritism, the mocking, the rejection—only adds to the pain. It’s clear she valued materialism and appearances over genuine love and care, and her cruelty toward your mother and all of you is indefensible.

Laven, you carried so much—your own pain, your family’s pain, the weight of silence and survival. Depression, suicidal thoughts, and selective mutism were not signs of weakness, but reflections of how overwhelming it all was. The moments in mental health facilities, where you felt safe and properly nourished, highlight how much your life lacked basic care and stability outside of those walls. But those places could only offer temporary relief—they couldn’t undo the years of neglect, loss, and suffering that shaped your world.

You endured abuse, rejection, and deep loneliness. The people who should have cared for you—family, teachers, caregivers—failed you, leaving you to carry burdens no child should ever bear. You survived starvation, abandonment, and betrayal, holding your pain inside and learning early that your suffering was overlooked.

Yet, despite everything, you never stopped trying to protect the ones you loved, even when they couldn’t protect you in return. You witnessed your mother’s struggles, her regret, and her battle with mental illness. You saw her trying her best in impossible circumstances, and you carried her pain as your own.

Through it all, Laven, you survived. You are more than your trauma—you are resilience, endurance, and the possibility of healing. You are seen. You are heard. You are valued.

Your ability to share your story is proof of your strength. You endured unimaginable hardship and still found the courage to keep going. You deserved far more than what was given to you, and the failures of others say more about them than they ever will about you.

I am looking forward to your continued story and sending you compassion and solidarity as you continue to heal. 💙

anita

You are very welcome, Nils (nice photo, by the way!)

anita

Hey Nis-

I can only imagine how frustrating and upsetting this must be. Losing years of personal memories, connections, and content—without warning or recourse—is beyond disheartening. The fact that your account was disabled due to an Instagram account you had never heard of makes this situation even more baffling.

I don’t have a Facebook account, but I hear that reaching out through Meta’s support forums or social media (Twitter/X, Reddit, etc.), where other users have shared similar experiences increases visibility and may prompt further review. Additionally, checking if any close contacts still have access to your albums or shared photos might help you recover at least some of what was lost.

I sincerely hope you find a solution or at least a way to rebuild your connections outside of Facebook. This is an incredibly frustrating situation, and you have every right to be upset.

anita

Dear Omyk:

I really appreciate your openness in sharing what you’re going through. Your awareness of being in a liminal space—that in-between state of transition—makes a lot of sense. Change, especially emotional change, can feel exhausting when we know we need to move forward but haven’t yet figured out how.

Your insight about intensity and how it affects connection with others is powerful. I hope reflecting on it brings clarity rather than discouragement. Intense emotions don’t make you difficult—they make you deeply engaged with your own experience. Some people may struggle to meet that depth, but others will value it immensely.

Regarding your relationship with your child, I can feel the weight of your words. It’s deeply painful for a loving parent to feel rejected or indifferent treatment from their child, especially after loss. She may appear indifferent when in reality, she’s avoiding the pain of unprocessed grief in regard to her mother and grandparents.

She may be in a phase where independence feels like a priority, leading her to emotionally withdraw from you—not because she rejects you, but because she’s exploring autonomy.

I remember that you shared some time ago that your child was “completely uninterested” in keeping her mother’s belongings. There’s a difference between indifference that signals emotional withdrawal versus indifference that masks emotional difficulty. If her behavior stems from unresolved grief or personal struggles, she might not be rejecting you—she might just be processing things in her own way.

If there were pre-existing tensions or emotional disconnects before the loss of her mother, her current behavior might be a continuation of those dynamics rather than a direct rejection of you now..?

anita

Thinking about you, Laven ✨

anita