Nearly three decades into this life, I discovered that I was the victim of distorted imagination, living in the story of what happened in my life. Regardless of the havoc it caused, living in the story fueled my insecurity and validated my excuse for the perpetual failures I encountered. This story depleted me of all my life force energy. As a result, I defined myself by the failures, circumstances, and negativity of my past. I further discovered that my lack of awareness did not override or excuse the pain or discomfort associated with those events. My story started when my view of the world was completely shattered at the age of nine, when the adults I considered as my protectors, ended up taking my innocence by violating me through molestation. The dysfunction in my family offered no relief, and there was no one to turn to for help. At the young age of nine I developed a defense mechanism, a rule by which to live my life to keep me safe. I became hard, rigid, defensive, curt, retaliatory, angry, numb and lifeless. I lived as if the world was out to get me because, up until that point, it was.