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Free At Last!

Updated: Jul 24, 2023

To protect the family, all names and addresses have been altered. We occasionally make minor modifications before we upload because we get emails from followers all over the world. If you want to share your individual experiences with us, please send your email to sharemystory@thestevenwickblog.com.



My father severely abused and beat my mother and any other weak women he could coerce into submission. This led to a very terrible upbringing for me. I then grew to become confortable with toxic relationships. But as I hit 24, I realized I had bagged an ant hill of problems; broken relationships, heavy debt, on the run from a voilent ex-boyfriend to seriel job quitter where among my issues. To solve my problems, I decided to turn to God and join a church.


At the time, I was 25 years old and I became a loyal member. I was urged to join the church choir by the pastor. I did and managed to catch up with one of the choir's musicians. He just didn't strike me as the religious kind; rather, he seemed more like a ghetto person with a decent head on his shoulders. He had black complexion, dreadlocks, and tattoos. Perfect, in my opinion. He was 35 years old, married with two children, and constantly grumbled about his wife and the fact that she couldn't statisfy him.


He led me to a carnival where we first had sex. He would try things with me that he had only fantasized.  In the 54 months we played about, we probably did it over a hundred times. We would have a wild time Saturday night, and on Sunday morning I would run into him, ready to die for the Lord. At the time, I swear it was the only reason I had for getting up on Sundays. One day, I recall the pastor praying over the choir, and I recall thinking, "We going to hell."



To impress me, he often took me out to expensive restaurants and gave me spending money.  But my favorite was the expensive vacations he paid for. Watching him lie to his wife over the phone made me chuckle for a while. It felt exciting hiding a secret from everybody. Overall, my connection with him was mutually beneficial, and I had no desire for anything more or less. The deal was to be friends with benefits, without any feelings or obligations. My mum clearly noticed that I had switched from wearing Payless to Gucci shoes. She would inquire as to how I managed to acquire such expensive items without receiving a single wage, and I would simply lie and say that I had a contact or that I was doing hair on the side to fund my spending habit. She had a good point, but she knew not to press. I was 25 and I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.


When I became pregnant, everything changed. My eyes lost their scales. Despite the fact that I've always liked babies, I was aware that the moment simply wasn't right. I was enrolled in a cosmetic program and had a bright future. After I graduated, I was promised a job by a beautician I knew. She owned a succesful cosmetic brand and wanted me to join her marketing team. I ultimately told my mother the truth and she was utterly disappointed but made sure the problem was resolved. I wasn't going to allow some guy from a church band stop that. In the end, he was really sorry that I had chosen to end the pregnancy, which did make me feel bad, but the circumstances were really dumb. This guy wanted me to have his kids, so we be his secret family. He refused to understand the consequences not to talk of the pain it would have brought our families once the scandal broke. I was definatly not gonna end up like my cousins, broke, absent fathers, fighting over food stamps and visiting different jails to see thier baby fathers.


I dodged a fat bullet. Eventually I stopped going to that church and started attending the Bethel Church. Thank God for mama, I am free.



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