According to the Greek philosopher Socrates, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Whether one agrees or disagrees with Socrates’ statement, it is very straightforward, with no mincing of words. When we examine something, we inspect it closely, which is what I have attempted to do by telling my story. It’s a difficult story to tell because it is not fiction. It’s real life, and it was my life for several years, but if at least one young girl is spared a fist in her face, a slap, a push, a shove, being thrown against a car door or down onto a bed or sofa, or listening to a barrage of threatening, degrading and demeaning words being hurled her way, then telling my story will have been worth the time and effort, as well as the painful memories that were reawakened as I watched the greatly anticipated debut of Fifty Shades of Grey.
I never would have dreamed that a movie marketed as romance such as Fifty Shades of Grey would spark memories that I had painstakingly suppressed and evoke emotions which I had fought hard to depress until they had been tucked neatly into a dark and unapproachable corner of my mind. But make no mistake. My story is not that of a romance novel which one would expect to find in a favorite bookstore, whether online or brick and mortar. My story is one of fear, and a kind of love to which I found myself vulnerable at a young age. It was the kind of love for which I was unprepared, and a love which ultimately threatened my survival.