Wendy Nguyen Social Profile

Wendy Nguyen

New York
Style Blogger at @wendyslookbook Owner of @artemishousenyc | Premier CBD Shop (shop location below)

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Instagram Post
[2/3] The abuse didn’t stop at 5. I thought I escaped it when I left Vietnam. When we got to America, we didn’t have much. For my parents to cover some of the bills, they rented out one of the bedrooms to another cousin. And the sexual abuse started again when he moved in. I was 12. He told me... if you tell your parents about this, they won’t love you anymore. I believed him and I didn’t say a single word. But inside, I felt like dying. And I did. I tried to kill myself by shallowing pills at 14. Another cousin intervened and stopped me before I could finish the bottle. The first cousin moved out and this cousin who intervened moved in taking over his room. I thought the nightmare was over. The second cousin ended up abusing me from 14 to 15. At 15 years old, I knew I couldn’t live this way. I told my parents and the first cousin was right... in a way, my fear came true. They didn’t believe me. I called my friend’s mother, who happened to be a teacher and she took me away. I ended up being placed in foster care (my foster sisters and foster mother in the photos above) . We went to trial, and in the end, the first cousin got 6 years in prison and the second one got community service. The irony is that the one who got the prison sentence was a correction officer. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ They combined got 6 years and I got a lifetime of pain. I’ve been through talk therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, EMDR, physical therapy, was diagnosed with PTSD and depression, my pelvic area has been damaged from the trauma and I struggle with managing my PTSD and depression to this day. His prison was bars and cement walls, my prison is the echo chambers of my own mind reliving the events. He’s free now, but I’m not. But by sharing my story, I’m closer to feeling free than ever before. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ My name is Wendy. My Vietnamese name is Nhu. And I’m a warrior, a fighter, and a survivor.
49,712 | October 18, 2018
Instagram Post
[4/4] Then and Now 💙 This is my first real update since my brother’s wedding. I wish I had a traditional happy ending to share, but to be honest with you, this is probably the best ending I could ask for. When the ceremony started, I got up there with my officiant script and waited for the procession. My mother and my brother were the first to come down. That was the first time I saw her in about 20 years. She looked at me for maybe two seconds and immediately looked down at the ground as she walked up to her seat. My father and my youngest brother (I have two brothers) were next. My father didn’t make eye contact with me at all as he made his way to his seat. I stood up there smiling, because it was a happy wedding day, and secondly because I was honestly happy to see my parents again. The little girl in me wanted to run to them. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ After the ceremony and during the breaks, my parents stayed with my relatives. During my best man speech, they sat with their backs toward me and we didn’t make eye contact either. They along with my relatives left early. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Growing up, I feared my parents and relatives. And maybe as a child and in the courtroom, everything and everyone looked so tall and big. When I was standing up there officiating, a huge reality hit me. They didn’t look as tall or monumental as I remembered. Both physically and figuratively. I don’t know if it was that I literally grew taller over the years or that I was standing on shoulders of so many women who endured the same pain. Whatever it was, for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel invisible. I wasn’t hiding anymore, and moreover, I felt I had purpose.
50,588 | November 21, 2018
Instagram Post
[3/3] There’s a reason why I’m sharing all of this [part 1/3 and part 2/3] now. In a way, I’m going to trial again. In about two weeks, I’m going to see my parents and relatives. The last time I saw most of them was in court 20 years ago. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I don’t have a relationship with my parents to this day. What hurt me the most was that in court, they sat on his side, they were his character witnesses, and they defended him. The last conversation I had with my mother was over the phone and I asked... if you saw it, why didn’t you stop him? She hung up on me. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ The scars from my cousins are deep, but to be honest with you, the scars from my parents not believing me and not being there for me run deeper. I grew up fearing my parents. But deep down, I always thought they’d be there for me. When they weren’t, my world fell apart. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ My brother is getting married in less than 3 weeks (he and I are in the photo above) and they’re coming. My brother and I are very close. I’m helping him with the wedding, I wrote my speeches months ago, and I’m officiating the wedding. But now that it’s less than a month away, the depression, anxiety, and PTSD are hitting me like a semi truck. The memories, the shame, the fear, are flooding back. For so many years, I thought I was safe because I’d never have to see them again. But now in order to be in the same room as them, I have to set myself free. And I want to be free so badly! So this is it… this is my truth, my release, my story. And unlike last time when I was alone in court, this time I have my brother, Colin, and women from all over the world standing right next to me. And for that, I’m extremely grateful to you. November 3rd. Two worlds colliding - a celebration & my last battle.
41,689 | October 19, 2018
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