My Story, Becoming Medusa

Come with me on this journey, my first ever Blog Post.

I am finally sitting down to write my story.

I was born, Logan Tucker. My biological father was not a good man to my mother but that’s not what this is about. Now mind you, I am going to try my hardest to keep some fine details out that regard other people to protect their privacy. But I want to be genuine with everything I tell you.

My name then changed. My mom married my “other father”, and I grew up with him as my father till I was about 12 years old. Then we were told about our biological father. Him and my mom were married for 5 years. I remember the divorce to this day. We moved around a lot, lived with other men that I never liked. I just always trusted my mom more than anything. We had an amazing babysitter and I made lifelong sisters in those years of going to their house. Our babysitter’s husband is the one who started calling me Medusa. I was not a morning person, super grumpy with my hair all over the place. He still calls me Medusa to this day. Him and the whole family will forever hold a special place in my heart. Without that family, I don’t think my childhood could have turned out the way it did. He’s like the father I wish I always had.

I can’t remember my exact age I was, but around 8 years old makes the most sense. We would go to his house every other weekend. Go bowling or watch M.A.S.H. and if you know that show it’s not fun for kids to watch. This abuse was short lived compared to some, but it lasted long enough to start at one house and end at another house he moved into. I won’t go into detail about everything that was done to me. But he made me do things, and he also did things to me. I was never comfortable with talking to anyone and I will forever wish I had that comfort to talk to anyone that could’ve helped. I didn’t even have God to turn to. Going through Therapy brought a lot of discomfort and memories back. I remember thinking that everything that happened was ok at the time. Simply because I didn’t know what these actions were at all. This took place before I knew what sex was let alone anything in relation to it. And it was my supposed “dad” doing those things.

Years later when I was 12, my sister added me on Facebook. Up to that point I never had a sister. I told mom and she then told us about our biological father. Thing’s people have said to me growing up started to click and finally make sense. Like my nose or lips were too big to have both white parents, etc. If you know my mom, she has Indian in her and tans very easily, so I never truly knew I was biracial till this news. We moved out of state, away from my “other father” and it pissed him off. Communication slowed down between us tremendously. It reached a point where he changed his number, and I could only reach him by email. He would seem so uninterested to talk to me, short responses and would go months without saying anything. Mind you I knew what sex was at this point and I know what he did to me was wrong. But I yearned for a father daughter relationship so bad that I had buried what had happened so deep. So deep that you could say I forgot about it. I constantly preoccupied myself with life, sports, boys, friends, even had a pet groundhog. Two years go by, and we move back to Ohio. I’m a sophomore. As I have meaningless relationships and become sexually active, these memories creep back up. But I suppress them again and pretend nothing happened. I didn’t want to be that girl. That girl that people could pity or make fun of. This was a mindset of an uneducated teen who hadn’t processed anything yet. I distracted myself again with sports, boys and friends.

After graduation I didn’t have any self-care, or value. I gave myself away to meaningless relationships and was so blinded by what I was truly doing to myself. I never talked to anyone about my childhood. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want it to be a conversation, or a reality. I wasn’t that girl that was sexually abused by her own father. Not me. I wanted to be anything but that. I allowed myself to be dragged down by people who didn’t have my best interest in play. I smoked weed and drank to fit in and suppress what I ultimately knew. I finally went home to mom at 19. I finally decided to go where I was safe and happy and comfortable. A year later, I met my husband. Dating him really made me realize the faults I had, that I began to understand strained from my trauma. He was the first person I ever talked to about my sexual abuse. I didn’t tell him till we were a couple months out from our wedding day. I knew he deserved to know this part of me before we were married. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Deep down knowing that he would love me no matter what I told him. But also has that hair of a feeling that he had a chance to run away. But he didn’t. He stayed, he comforted me, he cried with me, and he loved me through it. He still does to this day and has supported tyyy my journey into MedusaFit.

After telling him, I decided to see a therapist and have been meeting with her once a week for 5 years now. My therapist is so great, and she really helped me overcome many hurtles. Some might think I’d have it all together after such a long time, but I don’t. I still think about the what ifs, hoping I was the only little girl he’s ever touched and the fact that he’s living his life right now. I haven’t reported him, and I still don’t know if I will. That’s still something I struggle with daily. He was supposed to be my dad. But he’s, my abuser.

I’ve channeled all this into my Brand and decided that giving back to a community that I relate to and that needs the support is the least I could do. What do you do with your trauma? Make something good out of it. That’s what MedusaFit is for. I will fight hard for this community and for my Brand. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your support.

My inbox Is always open if you have questions, want to chat or share your story. Sharing mine and talking about it over time has truly helped me process it after burying it all those years. It will never leave my inbox without your permission.

One last thing; if you have children, educate them, educate yourselves, protect them, believe them.

Best, 

Medusa