Abuse rarely begins with violence.
It begins with attention. With trust. With subtle shifts that feel confusing rather than alarming.
It begins with grooming.
This book was written for survivors—and for those who may still be questioning their reality.
STAND UP GIRL: Kicking, Screaming, Crying is not a manual on how abuse “should” look. It is a compassionate, clear-eyed exploration of how grooming actually works: quietly, incrementally, and differently for every person it touches. Rather than offering one-size-fits-all answers, this book asks the questions most survivors were never encouraged—or allowed—to ask.
Because the truth is simple, but often overlooked: abuse affects everyone differently.
And healing does not begin with instructions—it begins with understanding.
A Book for Those Who Feel Confused, Not Broken
Many survivors come to abuse literature searching for certainty. They want to know:
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Was this really abuse?
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Why didn’t I see it sooner?
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Why am I still affected?
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Why don’t traditional answers help me?
What they often find instead are rigid definitions, timelines for healing, or advice that unintentionally reinforces shame.
This book takes a different approach.
Rather than telling you what you should feel, it walks beside you as you explore what you actually experienced. It acknowledges that grooming is designed to distort perception, erode self-trust, and blur boundaries—making clarity difficult long after the abuse has ended.
If you have ever felt dismissed, confused, or silenced because your experience didn’t “fit the mold,” this book was written with you in mind.
Understanding Grooming Without Self-Blame
Grooming is not about weakness.
It is about strategy.
This book carefully breaks down how grooming works across emotional, psychological, relational, and situational levels—without graphic detail and without placing responsibility on the survivor.
You will explore:
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How trust is intentionally built and then leveraged
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Why boundaries are crossed slowly, not suddenly
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How kindness, attention, and validation are used as tools
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Why confusion is not a failure, but a predictable outcome
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How power imbalances distort consent and choice
Most importantly, this book challenges the harmful belief that “you should have known.” Grooming succeeds precisely because it disguises harm as safety, care, or connection.
Recognizing this is not about rewriting the past—it is about reclaiming clarity in the present.
Asking the Questions That Lead to Real Understanding
Many survivors are told to focus on answers: coping strategies, diagnoses, recovery plans, or closure. But without the right questions, even the best support can feel ineffective or misaligned.
This book reframes healing as a process of inquiry rather than correction.
Instead of asking:
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What’s wrong with me?
You are invited to ask:
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How did this affect me specifically?
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What did my nervous system learn to do to survive?
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What am I still protecting myself from?
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What does safety mean for me now?
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What kind of help am I actually ready to receive?
These questions are not meant to rush healing or force insight. They are meant to restore agency—to help survivors participate in their own recovery without pressure, comparison, or shame.
For Survivors at Any Stage of Awareness
This book does not assume that readers are “ready” or certain.
It is written for:
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Survivors who know they were groomed but struggle to name its impact
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Those who suspect something was wrong but can’t yet define it
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People who feel disconnected from traditional recovery narratives
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Individuals who are still in the process of being groomed and need clarity without judgment
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Adults reflecting on experiences that occurred years—or decades—earlier
You do not need to label your experience to benefit from this book. Curiosity is enough. Uncertainty is enough. Your story does not need to be validated by anyone else to be worthy of understanding.
Trauma-Informed, Compassionate, and Grounded
This book is written with deep respect for the nervous system, emotional safety, and personal autonomy. It does not push survivors to relive trauma, forgive, confront, or disclose. It does not promise transformation or quick resolution.
Instead, it offers:
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Language for experiences that are often hard to name
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Validation without dependency
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Insight without pressure
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Space for reflection rather than instruction
Healing is framed not as becoming someone new, but as understanding who you became in order to survive—and deciding what you want to carry forward.
Why This Book Is Different
Unlike many books on abuse and recovery, Kick, Scream, Cry does not attempt to define a “correct” healing path. It acknowledges that survivors are not passive recipients of help—they are active participants whose readiness, capacity, and needs evolve over time.
This book respects that:
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Healing is nonlinear
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Resistance often signals protection, not failure
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Being helped is a skill that develops gradually
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Insight without safety can be overwhelming
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Progress may look like understanding, not resolution
Above all, it centers dignity.
A Quiet but Powerful Reminder
If you have ever felt that you were “too sensitive,” “too slow,” “too affected,” or “not affected enough”—this book offers a different message:
You were responding to something real.
Your reactions make sense.
And you deserve clarity without blame.
Healing does not begin when you find the perfect answer.
It begins when you ask questions that honor your lived experience.
This book is an invitation to do exactly that—at your pace, in your voice, and on your terms.
Healing After Abuse Starts With Better Questions—Not Better Answers
After abuse, people often ask the same questions over and over:
How do I move on?
Why am I still affected by this?
When will I feel normal again?
What’s wrong with me?
These questions are understandable. They come from pain, confusion, and a desire for relief. But they also reveal a deeper problem in how we talk about healing after abuse: we assume there are universal answers to an experience that is deeply personal.
Abuse does not affect everyone the same way. Two people can endure similar experiences and emerge with entirely different wounds, coping strategies, and needs. Yet survivors are often handed the same advice, the same techniques, the same timelines—and then left feeling broken when those solutions don’t work.
The issue isn’t that survivors aren’t trying hard enough.
The issue is that many are asking the wrong questions.
Healing doesn’t begin with answers.
It begins with asking questions that actually fit your experience.
Why “How Do I Fix This?” Is the Wrong Starting Point
Many survivors approach healing as a problem to solve. They search for methods, tools, diagnoses, and step-by-step plans—hoping something will finally “work.”
But this mindset quietly assumes something important:
that you are malfunctioning.
Abuse is not a glitch in your system. It reprogrammed your system for survival. Your reactions, behaviors, emotional patterns, and defenses were once intelligent responses to danger.
So instead of asking, “How do I fix myself?”
a more useful question might be:
“What did my system learn to do to keep me safe—and is it still necessary?”
That single shift changes the entire conversation. It replaces shame with curiosity and invites understanding instead of self-judgment.
Question 1: “How Did Abuse Shape Me Specifically?”
One of the most overlooked questions in recovery is also one of the most important.
Not:
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What does abuse do to people?
But: -
What did it do to me?
Abuse can lead to hypervigilance in one person and emotional numbness in another. Some become people-pleasers; others become fiercely independent. Some internalize blame; others externalize anger.
Instead of comparing yourself to others, ask:
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How do I respond to stress?
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What situations trigger me most?
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Where do I feel unsafe—even when nothing “bad” is happening?
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What patterns keep repeating in my relationships?
These aren’t questions meant to trap you in the past. They help you map the terrain you’re actually standing on—so you’re not following someone else’s directions through your healing.
Question 2: “What Am I Still Trying to Protect Myself From?”
Many survivors are told they need to “let their guard down,” “trust more,” or “stop living in fear.” But few are asked what that guard is protecting them from.
Every defense has a purpose.
Ask yourself:
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What feels dangerous to me now?
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What do I avoid—and why?
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What emotions feel unsafe to experience?
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What would happen if I stopped doing this behavior?
These questions are not about forcing change. They’re about understanding the cost-benefit of your coping mechanisms. Some protections may no longer be necessary. Others may still be serving you—and that’s okay.
Healing is not about ripping away defenses. It’s about renegotiating them.
Question 3: “Who Do I Become When I Feel Even Slightly Safer?”
Many people think healing means revisiting pain. In reality, much of healing is about noticing what emerges in moments of safety.
Ask:
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How do I act when I’m relaxed—even briefly?
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What do I enjoy when I’m not bracing myself?
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Who am I around people I feel safe with?
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What disappears when I’m not in survival mode?
These questions shift the focus away from what’s “wrong” and toward what’s been buried. Often, survivors don’t know who they are without trauma responses—not because they lack an identity, but because it was never safe to explore one.
Safety reveals truth.
Question 4: “What Help Am I Actually Ready to Receive?”
One of the quiet frustrations survivors face is feeling like help “doesn’t work.” Therapy, advice, books, support groups—it can all feel ineffective or overwhelming.
Instead of asking, “Why isn’t this helping?” try asking:
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What kind of help feels tolerable right now?
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Do I need structure, validation, tools, or space?
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Am I seeking relief—or understanding?
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What feels supportive versus intrusive?
There is no prize for accepting help you’re not ready for. Healing works best when it meets your capacity, not when it overwhelms it.
Being helped is a skill. It requires timing, fit, and consent.
Question 5: “What Am I Expecting Healing to Look Like?”
Many survivors secretly carry a picture of what “recovered” should look like: confident, calm, unbothered, successful, emotionally regulated at all times.
When reality doesn’t match that image, shame creeps in.
Ask:
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Where did my idea of healing come from?
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Am I expecting myself to be unaffected by what happened?
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Do I equate healing with never being triggered?
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What would progress look like for me, realistically?
Healing often looks less like transformation and more like increased self-understanding, better boundaries, quicker recovery after triggers, and deeper self-trust.
Question 6: “What Questions Am I Afraid to Ask?”
Some questions stay buried because they feel dangerous:
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What if I’m angry about this forever?
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What if I don’t want forgiveness?
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What if this changed me permanently?
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What if I’m afraid of who I’d be without my defenses?
Avoiding these questions doesn’t make them disappear—it just keeps them unanswered.
You don’t need to answer them all at once. You only need to be willing to let them exist without judgment.
Better Questions Lead to Better Support
When survivors ask deeper, more personal questions, they become better participants in their own healing—not because they’re “doing it right,” but because they’re finally working with their reality instead of against it.
The goal is not to find the perfect answer.
The goal is to ask questions that respect your nervous system, your history, and your pace.
Final Thought
Healing after abuse is not about becoming someone else. It’s about understanding who you became in order to survive—and deciding, slowly and compassionately, who you want to be now.
The right questions don’t rush you.
They don’t shame you.
They don’t promise easy fixes.
They simply open the door to truth.
And that’s where real healing begins.
Prayers,
Curtis & Mandie
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