My name is Shawnyne and I am ALIVE!

Amanda LanganNikole Nelson Kodie Sharp I take Full accountability for the things I have done and ownership for the pain I have created in your lives. I have done and will continue to do EVERYTHING to show you that life is worth living and you are worth the fight!

Karren Moore: DESPITE ALL OF YOUR BEST EFFORTS, I HAVE ARRIVED.... ALIVE!!!!

Here is my story.

My name is Shawnyne Wilson, I am walking through my life one more time, with clear eyes. I have been asked to write my biography multiple times thorughut my life in order to help me heal. This time I write it in hopes that others can heal.

I was born in 1973 and was raised by a single teenage mom. I have very few memories of my childhood and the ones that I do have are not good ones. The first memory I have is of violence. I am not sure of my age, I believe 1 or 2 and I woke up to my mom screaming as her husband was abusing her, it is one of the few times I remember my mom being nurturing and holding me.

I have many good memories of my grandpa, he was the absolute best. I remember playing bowling on the Atari, watching Benny Hill and eating his famous cowboy grub. To my grandpa, I was perfect and he loved spending time with me. I remember waking up every Saturday morning to him outside my window, pulling weed, waiting for me to wake up so we could hang out. He was killed in a tragic accident, I think I was 9 or 10 and my life was forever changed, I just had no idea how much…

My grandma was active LDS and had diabetes and was obese. Physical appearance and the approval of her church were very important to her. I was close with my grandma too with a very different relationship. My grandma was very critical of everything. No elbows on the table, stand straight and I can still feel her knuckle between my shoulder blades. We went to church every Sunday and I loved church and spending time with her. We would always stop for ice cream on the way home. After my grandpa died, she began spending her kids inheritance, as she would say and was out to lose weight. Without the consent of her doctors, she stopped taking her insulin and began taking water pills and exlax to lose the weight. The weight came off and she had money, but still was not satisfied. She was looking for relief from her pain. She met a man Art that she was going to marry, but he never showed up at the wedding and then got involved with a married man that was a professor at the college. I wasn’t allowed to be there when he was there, nobody was. She even had taken a small collection of pornography videos. The lack of self care is ultimately what killed her. I don’t remember the initial reason for being hospitalized, but before I went to see her, a blood clot hit her heart and she was brain dead and on life support. Watching them unplug her life was the scariest thing I had ever witnessed. To watch her breathe her last breaths, my head was swarming with my current life choices. I was around 18, drunk all the time and experimenting with cocaine. I had been stealing from my grandma and a few days before she was hospitalized, she told me she thought my cousin was taking money and I just brushed it off. This is the first time ever even talking about this.

My Uncle was in the bishopric of the LDS church, an ordained whatever. He was very stern, yet loving always and me and my cousins were close when we were young. My uncle and his wife came over to my grandma’s house while she was still in the hospital and started disbursing and taking what they wanted. She wasn’t even dead yet and they were setting in with greedy ugliness.. Not too long after, my uncle was arrested for hitting his wife.

I believe after my grandpa died, my dad had nobody to answer to. My mom met my step dad when I was 5, she was 22 and he was 53, charming and offered stability and security for her and myself. After they were married, he adopted me and we proceeded as a happy little family. He had 2 teenage sons who had no interest in a little sister.

My grandparents were very much in the picture and if I am not mistaken, my grandpa made it verry clear he had better never touch my mom again. One time when we were camping, my brother called my mom a bitch and my grandpa punched him in the mouth. God I miss him.

I have heard the word grooming a lot and that is what he was doing from the day he met my mom. A young beautiful mom with a child? Who had ever heard of such a thing? Back then, it was shameful as it reflected poorly on my grandmother who was strong in the LDS faith and as a lot of church members are, judgy.

The differences in how the kids were treated soon came to light. The women were responsible for the household chores and the boys, well, boys will be boys. If my mom was to protest or try to stand up to him, she would get the palm of his hand to the back of her head. The first time this happened, she ran outside and I was told to go to my room. I remember feeling so confused, I had no idea what to do, how to feel or how to protect my mom.

My mom has always been a good housewife who made breakfast and dinner every day, cleaned the house and worked a full time job. My dad was volatile and we never knew how he was going to be that day. Breakfast time, I remember my mom had said something he didn’t like and he slammed his fist down on the table, with his deep aggressive voice and tone, creating the table to shake, spill my milk and ruin my breakfast. We didn’t ever have time to respond, everything was a reaction.

I am not sure what age I was when I started having night terrors, but all I know was everything in my world was scary. After my dad adopted me, he told me many times that now he is my dad and if my mom died, I would go with him. We were not allowed to speak until he said we could.

I think I was 8 and we were going camping for the week; my mom had to work, so it was just me and him that first night. That was the first time I remember him showing me how adults show they love each other.

We lived at the end of a dirt road with no other house nearby and was surrounded by woodlands. It was beautiful and a great place for him to do his thing. He would insult me, belittle me and even pulled my tube top down in front of my mom and she did nothing. He came in at night and would touch me at his convenience.

He was very jealous and women were meant to serve his needs at his leisure, he was sure to tell me every chance he got that I was an ungrateful bitch and I get what I deserve and I should be grateful. I was still going to church with my grandma, and being taught that I was to be a good homemaker for my husband and raise a good family.

I think I was still doing okay at this point, but after my grandpa died, there was no one to protect us and my dad knew it. The day of the funeral was the first of many inappropriate groping and touching, beyond his tantics at home. He was getting bolder, they were fighting a lot and my mom buried herself in work to escape. She had to go out of town for a couple of days and my brothers went to their mom’s, it was just me and him. It was dark outside, I was in bed and he came in and told me to come out to the trailer, he had something to show me…. This dark wave of dread and terror came over my body, like hot tar, I knew he was going to rape me.

I got fully dressed, as many layers as I could fit on and I started walking out. The house was quiet, I could hear the crickets chirping.. The next thing I remember is standing outside the trailer door, staring at it, for what seemed like forever. My heart was racing, I was shaking and praying. I somehow got up the strength to open the door and step up into the trailer, where he was waiting. He told me that he works hard to provide for me and my mom and I have been a real bitch to him and I owed him sex. I told him that if he let me go, I wouldn’t tell anyone. I assume he thought I would be as compliant as I was when I didn’t see him coming. He said that if I told anyone he would blow my fucking head off.. I don’t even remember talking or thinking, but I could hear myself say I would rather have my head blown off than to fuck him at which time he punched me in the face. He did not have sex with me that night and he let me go with the promise not to tell anyone it was a test?

My Best friend told her mom and I was told if I don’t tell her what happened, she would. I wrote it in my diary and gave it to my mom. She was obviously upset and crying uncontrollably. I had hurt her again! My mom called my grandma and read what I had written and said that she didn’t think I was lying and he couldn’t believe he did that to her. We moved out into an apartment and we contacted the police department where we filed a report. We were told that since there was no penetration, there was no sexual abuse. He was stalking her and told her he would kill her and that no one else will ever want her. He also threatened to blow her head off. 30 days later, we moved back in…

I was not allowed to have friends, I could not talk to boys, I was not even allowed to wear tampons to school. My mom dove further into her work and staying away as much as she could, parenting from work and I was home alone… with him having access at any time. I remember them going somewhere and my dad told me to protect myself if anyone comes. He showed me where his gun was and told me it would protect me. The gun was heavy and cold and I didn’t like the feeling. Then they left and I am almost certain, he was intentionally scaring me. I was home alone that night and I could hear someone trying tapping at windows and trying to unlock the door.. I was an absolute wreck when he got home and they laughed at me, said I was just being a baby.

I turned to food and I remember ‘stuffing’ the food. I loved the texture and the feeling of fullness. I had a pain in my belly and the only answer I had, was to feed the hunger. My teacher Mr. Cook was my 5th grade teacher and developed cancer. The school brought in a substitute teacher who joined in on the bullying and teasing of the students. I was tall and developed very young and my period came when I was in like 4th grade. I wear a size 10 ring, am 5’10 and had developed an eating disorder so I was as big or bigger than most of the teachers and I could not participate on a lot of the play ground bars.

I was called moose, a whale and my mom was perfect. When my mom would come into conferences, the kid would say, wow your mom is pretty, what happened to you? EVERYTIME!! My mom took great pride in her looks and how she appeared. She is racist to color and economic status. I was a direct reflection of her and my appearance important to her. My weight, my teeth, my skin and my freckles. She would always say, well I tried to give you my good traits, but all you got was my gummy smile and little teeth. My doctor started me on a diet of 2% milk at 2mo old, because I was too

My mom was still married to my dad, sleeping in the same bed and kissing him and letting him touch her. Her ability to endure is incredible and she taught me well, take it as long as you can until you are so beat down you have no option but to fight.

I began drinking and smoking pot and talking on the teen chat line. Adult men were meeting with me and using me for their sexual gratification and I was letting them. I got pregnant when I was 14 and my dad made me get married. Don was 19 and I was 14 and everyone just said that is okay. His buddy Doug, was 26 and again no boundaries. Don’s cousin was a violent drunk who assaulted me multiple times. I was a minor trying to act like an adult and my mom would say, you just let them have sex with you? I heard you are a worthless slut.

I was shunned out of the church and they ultimately lost my record of baptism, the school asked me to leave, they said that I am a bad influence for the other good girls and they don’t want to send a message that my choices are okay. I checked into a teen mom school where I was kicked out because another girl assaulted me and I called her a bitch. I was told that I am big and intimidating and the clients need to feel safe.

I was existing as pregnant and trying to be the good wife and mother the church so taught me to be and of course, that was not the case. He was a drug user and I wanted my baby to have a good life so I left him. When I had my daughter, I was 15 and my mother’s only child. She was unable to have more children and Niki was her 2nd chance. She stepped in and I let her. I was readmitted into the hospital with an infection and the bond with my baby, never occurred. I had a very hard time doing all the things a good mother should do, Breast feed, get a job, go to school and make a baby. None of which I knew how to do.

I ended up pregnant again at 16 following a very abusive relationship that when I tried leaving him, he came to my home, assaulted me and I was pregnant again. I had an abortion and they gave me valium and demmoral and I was so sick! I hated it. I hated the taste of alcohol and drank only to get black out drunk.

I was working for call centers and at that time they were filled with felons and druggies. I found my people. The broken and decayed, societies outcasts. Boys with long hair, homeless and dirty. The worse they were, the better I felt about being nothing.

By the time I was 18, the alcohol was no longer working, I got my GED and was expected to go to school by my mom and the state. I took out a grant and I tried to act as if I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t do the daily life and had no idea how to be productive. My mom did all the cooking, cleaning and was always there to clean up my mess. She would tell me to do chores, but there were never any consequences or reward for doing so.

Following another failed attempt at love, I fell into a deep dark depression like no other. My heart felt black, the skies were dark, my whole existence was dark and heavy and I could not find a way out. I was hurting inside, I was in a car accident and experienced whiplash. I was put on anti depressants because that is what happens with pain, you get depressed. I asked him why he won’t just fix the pain and I never went back.

I met Laurie, a professional drug addict who gave me hope. She said she had something that would take away the pain and she gave me a shot of meth. It was fucking MAGICAL. All I could feel was good, alive, energetic and I could function. I would never describe it as happy. My mom had been making comments about how fat my arms and thighs were. I lost 20 pounds that first week and finally my mom was proud of me. She told me how good I looked, she was jealous and she was showing me off.

The addiction began taking it’s toll, the traffic, the criminals and men with no boundaries. I witnessed women who were pistol whipped, beaten down and assaulted. My first arrest happened when I think I was 20 ish and the next 3 years were spent prostituting, shooting drugs and another 5 arrests. The jails were full and they did not have the staff to support the incoming wave of felons and since I was not a violent offender, kept getting released.

On my 21st birthday, I was picked up by a john and taken to Emigration canyon. I remember thinking, he could kill me and no one would know and then I shook out that thought and said to myself I was giving him what he wanted so no worries.. We got to the bottom of a revene where he pulled out a knife, duct taped my hands and proceeded to assault me for 4 hours. He put his dick in my mouth and I bit him as hard as I could. He began punching me and choked me to unconscious 3 separate times. He had a shovel in the back of the truck and I just knew that for the first time, I cared if I died.

I went home and got no sympathy from my mom. She said that I should expect it with the life I am choosing to live, it was again my fault. She did not offer to take me to the hospital and I remember feeling so much internal pain. Just pain, I didn’t know where it was stemming from. Every arrest, I told the police what had happened and no one would listen.

I started feeling sick and my breasts tender and I knew I was pregnant. I DID NOT KNOW WHERE TO GO, WHAT TO DO OR WHO TO ASK!

The final arrest, I told them I was indignant and had nowhere to go, I was pregnant and coming off drugs. While incarcerated, I was taken to the womens center and had my 2nd abortion. I was taken in handcuffs, the procedure was done and I was taken back to jail and placed in solitary confinement, for my safety.

July 3, 2015, I was released to Project Reality where I met Matt, my baby daddy and eventually will be my husband. He was kicked out for distributing porn to clients and he moved nearby where we snuck around and I completed treatment. I completed in Jan 2016 and was pregnant again. We were going to live happily ever after, I decided. Matt had no sense of accountability and continued to use every 3 months and I never left. In 1998, I was cleaning under the couch and found a loaded meth pipe, that was all she wrote.

We were now using together, but this time I had some knowledge behind my behaviors and knew I had to get right, but thought I had to save Matt too. I got clean and I turned Matt in to the authorities so I could get my family back, my exact words. His parents put a lot of blame and responsibility on me to help him.

We eventually took in his daughter who’s mom was more toxic and violent than I had ever seen, Her physical assaults on Mandy were like nothing I had ever experienced and we tried to just keep functioning and move on with life. It just kept getting heavier, we all started getting drunk together and I was not a very nice person sometimes. I don’t remember the reason, but I remember being drunk and we were all talking bad about her and blaming her for a lot of things that had nothing to do with her. She ran out of the house that night and we didn’t see her again. She went back to California.

I was trying to stop drinking, but could not stand being around him. The church was in my head, that I married him and had to just keep praying and hoping God would step in. My husband was drunk and his mind was turning to mush, his eyes looked like a shark, no life and he was threatening to make me bloody for the first time. I received a text from a far that said, it’s okay, you can go. It was from a kid at work, who did not know my situation. He said God told him to send it. I left that night at 2 am in a blizzard, leaving my kids at their friend’s house. I called them when I got to Salt Lake and told them I couldn’t come back until he was gone. 3 days later, he stole my truck, my debit card and took off to California. He told the girls he was going to get donuts and he never came back.

I came back and tried to manage, but the storm was bigger than ever and the emotions so intense, I couldn’t breathe. I sought out men, then sex and then I relapsed. I joined AFF, a hookup site and we were off to the races. Nothing seemed to calm the storm, my self inflicted abuse raged out of control. I was picking my face to hamburger and then I would pour alcohol on it. It was the only thing I could feel.

I abandoned my daughter and left her to fend for herself. I wasn’t coming home, wouldn’t answer my phone and was just running. She had a friend take her in and they loved and supported her the best they could. She also had a friend, Abby that connected to her.

I was arrested again in 2008 on simple possession and the judge would not hear my case or give sentence until I was done with treatment, I think. While on probation, I picked up 5 1st degree felonies for possession with intent and near a public structure, my charges were enhanced and I was just tired. So tired of fighting and really had no drive to live. I remember stabbing myself with the spork, hitting my knees and just crying… They put me on suicide watch and I was put naked in a padded cell.

When I went to court, I took the first offer they gave me, 3 2nd degree felonies. I told them I just want to take accountability and get it over with. I told them I did all of it and I deserved whatever came. Prison didn’t scare me, at least it was a controlled environment. They rolled me out of jail 3 months later and I was on the streets again. I had been talking with Susan Cox and she was getting me into the halfway house. My mom did not want me around so she rented me a hotel room.

I was able to not use and checked into the halfway house. I got a job at IHOP where the whole staff was using pills and I was put on the graveyard shift. I got out of the halfway house and moved into an apt above from my manager at IHOP, a career felon. I wanted to make her feel better because she was sick from no pills, so I decided to go to my dealer to get her pills. And we were off again. My manager and her husband were abusing their son and I was spinning out of control. I knew it was wrong, tried to support him, but never told anyone. Susan was very reactive like my mom, so we just did what she said. Their abuse was probably my driving factor to get straight. I did not want to be associated with people like Susan.

I told my po I had relapsed and could not get clean and I asked for treatment. I chose the hardest program I could find that could treat more than my addiction. The day I checked into Odyssey was scary, exciting and more scary. I had no social skills, no boundaries and I knew I had to find out why I was the way I was. I knew this was the place that would help me. My only hope was that these people knew what they were doing.

The entire staff was in recovery and most SAP Grads of the program. They said do what they say to do and stay, that’s all you have to do. I was raw and ready and wanted to change. Odyssey house was the first place to look at me like a patient and not a criminal. I was 38 years old and had no idea how to live. I did just as I was told and did the work. The issues came up, one after the other, panic attacks, trauma responses and any other crazy thing. My mom had it in her head that my daughter would be staying with her after I got out of treatment and I was hell bent to make sure that didn’t happen. My daughter ended up in the hospital for attempted suicide and staying in my treatment center, seemed so difficult. I knew that I was no good to her the way I was. I knew the only hope to save my daughter, was to get myself better and I stayed. I attended a survivors group the majority of the time I was there and learned to sit through the storm inside. Which meant it was time to transition.

I moved into our voyager program with peer and friend Jocelyn. Jocelyn was the same age as my oldest daughter and we trauma bonded. We found in each other what we were not getting in our own families. We moved out of transitional and got a condo together where my daughter eventuallty moved in following another suicide attempt and the dynamics between the 3 of us became unstable and then Jocelyn relapsed. I was making 10 an hour, the rent was 1200, but I had to choose me and my daughter and I kicked her out.

Kodie and I moved to an apt half the size and price and she got a job. Her manager’s brother had just been released from prison for murdering his GF, he was 40 and he began grooming my daughter. When she turned 18, she was free game. He was controlling violent and kept her off balance and was having sex with her, even though she didn’t want to. He broke in our house, crawled in her bed and assaulted her. She got pregnant and we went to the police, only to be told it wasn’t bad enough and she asked for it.

Try as I did, I could not stop the storm inside. This was too much like my story and I couldn’t separate. When Benny was born, baby daddy broke in our house and took my cc and medications and we had the police at our house. He gave my cc to his brother and they tried using my card.. This is what ultimately convinced my daughter he was not good for her. And she met Mike.

I was working at Odyssey House at the adult house and Admissions, telling the story of my trauma to incoming clients and it kept it so in front of me. Susan Wiet, my psychiatrist, invited me to speak on a survivor panel in a symposium about ACES – Adverse Childhood Experience and the fallout in a persons life. Hearing the process a child goes through, what happens to the brain and the health conditions caused by such trauma made me feel so forgotten and unseen and unimportanat. Why didn’t anyone help me. Getting up to tell my story and the lights in my face, I was feeling off balance from everything I had just learned, triggered a pretty dark response. I had heard a video tape of a woman who did EMDR and had healed from her PTSD. WTF?! I wanted that, so I contacted Kristan Warnick, with Healing Pathways.

We began EMDR and that first session was a doozy. My first vision was of me in the window of my room at the end of the dirt road. I was not pounding or screaming, I was just there, peering out. I don’t know what it opened that day, but when I left, I was not good. My skin was crawling, my insides on fire and I knew this was what was getting me high. I stuck it out and in the next session, let her know what had happened and we knew to close the lid next time. Kristan and I have worked together since 2015, she has helped treat my daughter and has been on my speeddial for the last 5 year as things came up.

I was in a car accident in 2016 and had 7 herniated discs in my neck and back. I lost my job, couldn’t work and had no way to bring in money. I was the provider and had no ability to provide. Mike and Kodie had just met and he just moved in. Suddenly everything was on his shoulders. Instant family. He shouldered the responsibility and through 5 surgeries, a slippery slope with pain pills, we all worked together and made it through. We didn’t think I would be able to work or live alone again. I was having all kinds of health issues, couldn’t walk, I was on oxygen. I was turned down for disability for not being broken enough so I was off to find work. I started doing doordash which seemed to work until I was involved in another car accident that was not my fault. The insurance didn’t pay, I had no car and was back to zero again. Brady had been letting me use his car and was nice enough to let me buy it. I took my first paycheck from my new job and paid him 1100$.

The company closed down and covid hit and the next few years trying to find stable employment was tough. I was doing temp work, living back in my mom’s basement and not much hope. I received a call from Assure, a start upcompany doing SPV’s. It was such a refreshing environment, we were the first 5 of many to come to build the team and our VP was amazing. She gave us the vision, the goal and said give it hell. We were empowered to build and grow. I owned that role and worked sooo hard to learn the industry and I did. The VP left and the team taken over by the operations VP. We went from team members to employees. All of our responsibilities stripped and my supervisor was showing favortism and creating an unsafe space for me, by including knife emojis and bombs with threats of stabbing tires and termination if we crossed her. Super funny right? Well, I was pulled in a meeting room and severely triggered by her and her approach. told her I didn’t feel safe and asked if she was done. I reported the incident to HR and her boss and was only advised that no one would intentionally do that. I repeatedly reached out to HR, my new supervisors about the issue and was eventually let go in a big company let go. They sent us an email over the memorial day weekend, sent it to my work email that I was being terminated and then blocked access to my emails. I never saw the email and went into work where I was handed my check and separation letter.

I continued to reach out for a resolve regarding the situation with my supervisor, needing to feel heard and they told me to be careful how I am perceived on LinkedIn, I am building my brand. It took me a few days, but I realized that what fucking brand is that? I want to own my truth. I have worked hard, I built your company and my work ethic didn’t stand up to what she said about me? No one ever asked my side. So, that is why I have come put with my story. I deserve to feel safe, I am not broken, I am healthier than 80% of the population, what about the rest of you?