A bit about the person behind the blog
Hi, I'm Satin. I'm pretty proud of my fake name— it's a partial anagram of the name my abusers called me. I debated on whether or not to give myself a name, or to stay completely anonymous. I think the more empowering option is to decide what to refer to myself as, as opposed to letting readers decide for me.
I'm an adult born and raised in the United States. I present fairly androgynous, which was quickly identified as an asset during my time enslaved (which is the term used for it during, and the term I use when talking about it in therapy.) I generally am solely attracted to women. I was raised in a middle class family in the suburbs, which for most of my life was just me, my older sister, my mom, and kind of my dad. He traveled a lot for work and wasn't around a lot in general.
As a toddler and small child I was sexually abused by someone close to me and was exploited to create CSAM (Child Sexual Abuse Material, formerly known as CP.) I had a rough childhood and early teen experience, which led to me getting into drugs in my later teen years. For two years, I did everything a high schooler involved in that world could do. I sold, I bought, I consumed at school and work and anywhere else I had to be. By the end of senior year, my highschool principal "strongly suggested" I go to rehab instead of graduating. I've stayed off the hard stuff since.
In my adulthood, someone handed me a job in a kitchen and the world opened up to me. I could connect with food in a way that I couldn't with people. I practiced my skills tirelessly and obsessed over cooking. I got good, like really fucking good. Youngest-cook-in-a-prestigious-kitchen-outcooking-the-vets good. That's when I met Lachlan.
Lachlan was someone you couldn't miss. He wasn't especially magnetic, but everyone in every room knew who he was and listened to him. He was so obviously powerful and disgustingly rich. He drove fast cars and carried expensive and well used guns. And he needed a chef. It seemed like a good opportunity.
Seven months later I lay on my bed in my apartment. I cooked for the first time in a while tonight for my roommate. It doesn't feel the same, maybe because I'm not the same. I smoke weed and hide in here and avoid people. Someday, I hope to get a philosophy degree. Right now I'm just trying to get through the day without flinching at the cars driving past my window.
I'm hopeful that things will get better, I think they probably have to. I'm trying to figure out who I am without all of the things I was before, and I'm taking time to figure out what parts of me are me and what parts of me are Lachlan's careful constructions. In a way, I feel stronger now that I'm out. I look back on all of the things I did and was made to do and I'm proud of myself for making it through. I know in my bones that there will likely never be anything as difficult as what I went through with him, and that makes the future seem bearable.
Love, Satin