I didn’t hit rock bottom.
I sank through it.
The collapse didn’t happen all at once.
It started with the headlines.
It deepened with the conviction.
It widened with the silence.
And then came the fall that had no name.
The emotional collapse.
🧨 The Breaking Point
After the Wonka event imploded in 2024, I watched my name get turned into:
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A meme
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A headline
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A warning sign
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A joke
And eventually—a cautionary tale with no voice of its own.
I tried to hold it together.
But grief doesn’t schedule itself.
Shame doesn’t knock.
It floods.
🧷 What No One Saw
What people saw was:
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The courtroom
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The sentence
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The words “sex pest”
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A headline that fit the story they wanted
What they didn’t see was:
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Me in therapy
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Me breaking down in public toilets
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Me afraid to walk into a shop
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Me writing diary entries to stay alive
I didn’t want to be forgiven.
I wanted to feel real again.
🔨 The Rebuilding
It didn’t start with a comeback.
It started with sitting in rooms I didn’t want to be in.
Supervision.
Community payback.
Sessions.
Silence.
Then came this website.
Not as a way to sell anything.
But as a place to contain the story so that I could stop bleeding it out everywhere else.
Rebuilding isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about facing who you were and building anyway.
🌱 Where I Am Now
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I write
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I reflect
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I publish the diary entries no one expects
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I tell the truth before they tell it for me
I don’t claim redemption.
I claim responsibility.
And with that, I keep walking.
🔗 Want more?
– Read The Reckoning
– See My About Page
– Explore the Diary