on.soundcloud.com/CKw3bu7gS2… An Industrial Alternative Rock and Spoken-Word Anthem by Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot Genre: Industrial Alternative Rock | Dark Cinematic Spoken Word | Female Empowerment | Protest Anthem Artist: Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot There comes a moment in a woman's life when being understanding becomes exhausting, being patient becomes unbearable, and being the bigger person starts feeling like another unpaid job. That moment has arrived. And Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot has something to say about it. “Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired” is a fierce, profanity-filled industrial alternative rock and spoken-word anthem about reaching the end of your patience, reclaiming your boundaries, and refusing to spend another day carrying the emotional baggage of people who refuse to take responsibility for themselves. This is not a song about asking for permission. This is not a song about politely explaining your boundaries for the hundredth time. And this is definitely not a song about making yourself smaller so someone else can remain comfortable. This is the sound of a woman who has had enough fucking bullshit. With pounding industrial drums, distorted guitars, gritty female vocals, explosive choruses, and unapologetic spoken-word declarations, Julie delivers a message that is equal parts frustration, liberation, dark humor, and hard-earned self-respect. The song captures what happens when years of disrespect, emotional exhaustion, unsolicited opinions, violated boundaries, and unrealistic expectations finally collide with a woman who has decided that her peace matters more than anybody else's approval. As a United States Navy veteran, author, independent musician, survivor, and sound alchemist, Julie has spent years navigating difficult experiences while finding ways to transform them into poetry, music, and personal expression. But surviving difficult experiences does not mean agreeing to tolerate endless disrespect. And compassion does not require self-abandonment. “I've been the bigger person. I've been the understanding person. I've been the woman who swallowed her anger to keep everybody else comfortable. And I'm done.” Those words establish the emotional foundation of this anthem. Julie challenges the expectation that women must constantly remain pleasant, accommodating, forgiving, and emotionally available, even when their own needs and boundaries are being disregarded. She rejects the assumption that another person's feelings automatically become her responsibility. She rejects the idea that her worth must be established through public approval, recognition, or permission. And she rejects the expectation that she should continue absorbing behavior that disrupts her peace. The explosive chorus declares: “I'M SICK AND TIRED OF BEING SICK AND TIRED! MY LAST FUCKING NERVE HAS EXPIRED!” It is a declaration for anyone who has ever reached their limit and realized that enough is enough. The Woman Behind the Defiance There is something deeply personal beneath the anger in this song. Julie is not simply expressing irritation over a bad day. She is speaking from the accumulated exhaustion of years spent surviving, grieving, rebuilding, creating, and defending the right to live her own life. She has written books. She has created an extensive catalog of original music. She has explored gentleness, presence, sound healing, emotional awareness, grief, survival, and the importance of boundaries. Her creative work includes the resonant sounds of gongs, Tibetan singing bowls, handpan, guided meditations, ambient compositions, lyrical music, and spoken-word poetry. But the woman who creates peaceful listening experiences is also a woman with a voice that can roar. Being a sound alchemist does not mean being silent about disrespect. Being compassionate does not mean accepting mistreatment. And creating music for rest does not mean surrendering the right to be angry. Sometimes the sound of self-respect is a gentle gong. Sometimes it is a quiet breath. And sometimes? IT'S A FUCKING INDUSTRIAL ROCK ANTHEM! My Bags Are Packed. My Boundaries Are Intact. One of the most memorable moments in the song comes when Julie shifts from frustration to forward movement. Her bag is packed. Her sweatshirts are drying. Her blanket is ready. And her retreat is approaching. These ordinary details become symbols of something much bigger: the freedom to step away, make personal choices, and create distance from situations that have become emotionally exhausting. The song's humor emerges through the realization that even while preparing for a peaceful retreat, Julie's creative fire is still burning. And if somebody decides to test her patience one more time? Another fucking song might be born. That combination of humor and defiance gives the song its unmistakable personality. Because Julie is not waiting for the world to become more respectful before choosing herself. She is packing her bag. She is protecting her peace. And she is taking her voice with her. Anger Is Not the Opposite of Healing “Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired” challenges the idea that healing must always sound gentle, quiet, or agreeable. Anger can communicate that a boundary has been crossed. Frustration can reveal where something needs to change. And speaking honestly about exhaustion can become an act of self-respect. This song does not demand that anyone become angry to heal. It simply makes room for the emotions that are often dismissed when women are expected to remain endlessly understanding. There is no requirement to forgive someone on command. No obligation to explain a boundary repeatedly. No expectation to carry another adult's emotional responsibilities. And no reason to apologize for wanting peace. A woman can be compassionate and still say no. A woman can create healing music and still be furious. A woman can be exhausted and still be powerful. A Song for Anyone Who Has Had Enough This anthem is for the woman who has been told to calm down when she finally speaks up. For the survivor who refuses to be silenced. For the caregiver who has reached the end of her capacity. For the person who is tired of being responsible for everyone else's emotional comfort. For the artist who refuses to make her work smaller to satisfy critics. For anyone who has spent too many years being expected to tolerate what should never have been demanded of them. And for every woman who has ever looked around at the chaos, taken one long breath, and thought: “I am too fucking old for this bullshit.” You do not have to earn your right to rest. You do not have to justify wanting distance. You do not have to turn every boundary into a debate. And you do not have to surrender your voice to preserve someone else's comfort. The Message My peace is mine. My voice is mine. My boundaries are mine. My life is mine. I am not responsible for carrying everybody else's feelings. I am not required to be endlessly available. I am not obligated to make myself smaller. And I am no longer interested in explaining why basic respect matters. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. And this time, I'm doing something about it. I'm choosing my peace. I'm choosing my voice. I'm choosing myself. My bags are packed. My boundaries are intact. And my patience has already left the fucking building. About the Artist Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot is a United States Navy veteran, author, independent musician, spoken-word artist, and survivor advocate whose creative work explores personal sovereignty, boundaries, emotional expression, presence, grief, resilience, and the freedom to reclaim one's voice. Through gongs, Tibetan singing bowls, handpan, ambient soundscapes, lyrical compositions, and fiercely honest spoken-word music, Julie creates work that makes room for the full range of human emotion. Her music moves between quiet listening experiences and powerful declarations of self-respect. Because healing does not have to look or sound the same every day. Sometimes healing whispers. Sometimes it roars. And sometimes it says, “I'VE HAD ENOUGH!” Listen and Explore To discover “Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired” and more original music, spoken-word poetry, and sound alchemy, search for Julie Jewels Smoot on YouTube or SoundCloud. Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot My music. My voice. My boundaries. My life. Nothing is required of you. And nothing gives anyone else permission to take your peace.

‘I Did Not Consent to See This’ by Julie Jewels Smoot is on #SoundCloud on.soundcloud.com/nh4UNozHui… I Did Not Consent to See This is a fierce, unapologetic spoken-word protest about unwanted sexual content on social media, the importance of digital boundaries, and the right to decide what we allow into our personal space. I created this piece because I am tired of encountering pornography on X when I never asked to see it. I open social media to share my music, poetry, writing, sound healing work, and survivor advocacy. I come to connect with people, exchange ideas, and express myself. I do not open an app to have unwanted sexual imagery placed in front of me. And I am tired of feeling as though my boundaries do not matter. I did not consent to see this. Those words are the foundation of this composition. As a survivor of childhood sexual violence, I understand how unexpected sexual imagery can bring painful memories to the surface. I was eleven years old when someone exposed me to pornography and then raped me. I was a child who deserved safety and protection. What happened to me was not my choice. Today, as an adult woman, I have the right to make choices about what I see, what I engage with, and what I allow into my life. This song is about exercising that right. It is not about denying other adults their freedom to make consensual choices. It is about recognizing that one person's freedom to share sexual content does not erase another person's right to control their exposure to it. Through haunting atmospheric sounds, heavy industrial percussion, dark cinematic textures, and commanding spoken-word delivery, this composition moves from controlled frustration into an explosive declaration of personal autonomy. It challenges social media platforms to provide meaningful content controls, respect user preferences, and take unwanted exposure seriously. It also challenges the expectation that survivors should simply remain quiet, look away, or accept repeated exposure to material they have actively tried to avoid. I refuse to accept that my discomfort is the unavoidable price of participating in online communities.

‘I DIDN'T OPEN X FOR THIS SHIT’ by Julie Jewels Smoot is on #SoundCloud on.soundcloud.com/EIZwBgFDQ9… I Didn't Open X for This Shit A Fierce Industrial Rock Protest Anthem About Unwanted Pornography, Digital Consent, Personal Boundaries, and a Woman Who Has Had Enough By Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot Genre: Industrial Alternative Rock | Dark Cinematic Protest Anthem | Female Rage | Survivor Empowerment | Digital Consent Content Notice: This song addresses unwanted exposure to pornography, childhood sexual trauma, Complex PTSD, digital boundaries, and survivor advocacy. Contains strong language and emotionally intense themes. Another Morning. Another Unwanted Image. Another Song. I Didn't Open X for This Shit is an angry, unapologetic, emotionally charged protest anthem born from my ongoing frustration with being shown unwanted pornographic content on X. Once again, I woke up, opened X, and encountered sexual content that I did not want to see. I didn't search for it. I didn't request it. I didn't consent to seeing it. And I am so fucking tired of having to explain why that matters. I use social media to share my original music, spoken-word poetry, sound healing compositions, books, creative projects, and personal experiences. I am there to connect with people who appreciate independent music, authentic storytelling, survivor advocacy, and meaningful creative expression. I AM NOT THERE TO LOOK AT PORNOGRAPHY. I am not interested in having explicit sexual imagery appear unexpectedly in my feed. I am not interested in following accounts that promote pornography. And I am not interested in being told that unwanted exposure is simply something I must accept because I use a social media platform. This is not the first time I have spoken about this issue. I have already created and released multiple original songs addressing unwanted sexual content, digital consent, personal boundaries, and the emotional impact of encountering imagery I never asked to see. And now, after another morning of frustration, I have created another. I DIDN'T OPEN X FOR THIS SHIT. That is the title. That is the message. And I mean every fucking word. Why This Issue Is Personal to Me I am 48 years old. I am a United States Navy veteran. I am an author who has written 13 books. I am an independent musician who has released several albums. I am a sound alchemist, poet, and survivor advocate. I am also a woman who lives with Complex PTSD related to experiences of sexual trauma. My experiences with unwanted sexual exposure began when I was a child. I was eleven years old when I was exposed to pornography and subsequently experienced sexual violence. I was a child who deserved protection, safety, and the freedom to experience childhood without sexual violation. Those experiences became part of a much larger history of trauma that I continue to navigate as an adult. When I speak about unwanted pornography appearing on my social media feed, I am speaking from my own lived experiences. I know what it means to have boundaries violated. I know what it means to have choices taken away. I know what it means to live with the lasting effects of trauma. And I know how important it is to have control over what I choose to engage with. I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO EXPLAIN MY TRAUMA TO JUSTIFY MY BOUNDARIES. I should not have to tell strangers what happened to me as a child. I should not have to disclose my experiences with military sexual trauma. I should not have to explain my Complex PTSD. And I should not have to prove that unwanted sexual imagery causes me distress before my preferences are taken seriously. My decision not to view pornography should be enough. NO IS A COMPLETE SENTENCE. This Is About Digital Choice, Not Controlling Other Adults Let me make something very clear. I am not demanding that every adult make the same personal choices I make. I recognize that adults have different beliefs, preferences, and relationships with sexual content. What consenting adults choose to view is their decision. But their choices do not erase mine. I have the right to decide what kind of content I want to encounter. I have the right to establish boundaries around my social media experience. I have the right to block accounts whose content I do not want to see. And I have the right to expect meaningful content controls that allow people to avoid explicit sexual imagery. Digital platforms should recognize that users have different needs. Some users want access to adult content. Others do not. Some users have trauma histories that make unexpected sexual imagery particularly distressing. Others simply have no interest in seeing it. Neither group should have to surrender its ability to make informed choices about the content it encounters. DIGITAL CONSENT MATTERS. CONTENT PREFERENCES MATTER. PERSONAL BOUNDARIES MATTER. I am asking for effective filtering, responsible content labeling, and meaningful control over what appears in my feed. I am not asking anyone to abandon their personal freedom. I am asking that my freedom to refuse unwanted content be respected. The Anger Behind the Music There is nothing gentle about this song. There is nothing apologetic about it. And there is absolutely no attempt to make my frustration sound more acceptable to people who would rather dismiss it. I Didn't Open X for This Shit is an explosive industrial alternative rock anthem fueled by anger, exhaustion, determination, and the refusal to remain silent. Heavy distorted guitars create a wall of sound. Aggressive industrial percussion drives the rhythm forward. Deep bass and dark cinematic synthesizers establish an atmosphere of tension and confrontation. My lyrics move between fierce female rock vocals, shouted protest choruses, and commanding spoken-word passages. The song begins with a simple reality: Another morning. Another unwanted image. Another boundary ignored. The verses describe opening social media to share my creative work and being confronted with content I never wanted to see. The chorus erupts into the central declaration: I DIDN'T OPEN X FOR THIS SHIT! I'M SO FUCKING TIRED OF IT! I DIDN'T ASK! I DIDN'T CHOOSE! I HAVE THE RIGHT TO FUCKING REFUSE! Those words are not written for shock value. They express genuine frustration. They express the exhaustion of repeatedly blocking accounts, reporting unwanted content, and trying to maintain boundaries in an online environment where those efforts can feel ineffective. They express the anger of a woman who is tired of being told to accept something she has repeatedly rejected. And they express my determination to continue speaking. Dear X: How Many Times Do I Have to Say No? One of the most important moments in this composition is the spoken-word bridge. The music drops into a dark, ominous pulse as I directly address X. I ask how many accounts a woman should have to block. How many reports should she have to file? How many times should she have to explain that she does not want pornography appearing unexpectedly in her feed? And why should anyone have to disclose personal trauma before their content preferences are treated as legitimate? MY NO DOES NOT REQUIRE A FUCKING EXPLANATION. That statement is at the heart of this song. I do not need to justify my boundaries by telling my entire life story. I do not need permission to reject unwanted sexual content. I do not need strangers deciding what I should tolerate. And I do not need anyone telling me that my discomfort is insignificant. I am a grown woman who knows what she wants and what she does not want. I know what content I am comfortable engaging with. I know what I am not willing to accept. And I am fully capable of making those decisions for myself. I Turn My Anger Into Music As Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot, my creative work takes many forms. I create peaceful listening experiences with gongs, Tibetan singing bowls, handpan, and other instruments. I create guided meditations and atmospheric compositions that invite stillness and reflection. I write poetry about grief, trauma, resilience, boundaries, and the complexities of being human. I also create protest music. Music that confronts injustice. Music that challenges disrespect. Music that refuses to make uncomfortable experiences invisible. And music that gives my anger somewhere meaningful to go. I do not believe every song needs to be peaceful. I do not believe every composition needs to encourage forgiveness. And I certainly do not believe a woman must soften her words to deserve to be heard. ANGER IS PART OF THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE. My anger does not cancel my creativity. My anger does not erase my compassion. My anger does not make my boundaries unreasonable. And my anger does not mean I have abandoned the values behind my sound healing work. Sometimes I create music to invite rest. Sometimes I create music to express grief. And sometimes I create music because I am so fucking fed up that silence is no longer an option. This song belongs to that last category. My Screen. My Boundaries. My Choice. I am not going to apologize for refusing unwanted pornography. I am not going to pretend that repeated exposure is acceptable to me. I am not going to follow accounts that post explicit sexual content. Accounts that post pornography will be blocked, and content I believe violates platform rules will be reported. I am not interested in debating whether I should lower my standards for what I allow into my online experience. My preferences are mine. My boundaries are mine. My choices are mine. And I am entitled to make those choices without being mocked, dismissed, or pressured into accepting something I do not want. MY SCREEN IS NOT AN INVITATION. MY SILENCE IS NOT CONSENT. MY BOUNDARIES ARE NOT NEGOTIABLE. For Survivors Who Understand This song is also for survivors who understand how deeply unexpected sexual imagery can affect someone. For people who have experienced sexual violence. For people living with PTSD or Complex PTSD. For people who have spent years learning to recognize and protect their personal boundaries. For people who want to participate in social media without encountering explicit sexual content. And for anyone who has ever felt frustrated because their online preferences were not respected. You should not have to explain your entire history to establish a boundary. You should not have to defend your right to refuse unwanted content. And you should not have to accept someone else's choices as your own. You deserve meaningful options. You deserve to be able to use the tools available to you. And you deserve to decide what content belongs in your personal digital experience. This song does not demand that survivors respond to sexual content in any particular way. Every survivor has their own experiences, preferences, and boundaries. YOUR CHOICES BELONG TO YOU. That is the principle I am defending. I Am Not Going to Stop Creating I have spent years writing books, composing music, creating spoken-word poetry, and finding ways to express my experiences. I have survived things that changed my life. I have experienced profound grief, including the loss of my mother to metastatic breast cancer. I live with Complex PTSD. I have experienced disrespect, judgment, and situations in which my voice was not taken seriously. And I am tired of being expected to remain silent whenever something upsets me. I do not create music because I believe I am more important than anyone else. I create because I have something to say. I create because writing and music are meaningful parts of my life. I create because my experiences are mine to express. And I create because I refuse to allow other people to determine whether my voice deserves to exist. Every time I encounter something that crosses my boundaries, I get to decide how I respond. Sometimes I block. Sometimes I report. Sometimes I walk away. And sometimes I write another fucking song. I DIDN'T OPEN X FOR THIS SHIT is one of those songs. It is loud. It is angry. It is direct. It contains profanity. And it refuses to pretend that my frustration is anything other than real. I am not asking everyone to agree with me. I am not asking everyone to enjoy my music. I am not asking anyone to make the same choices I make. I AM ASKING THAT MY CHOICES BE RESPECTED. I will continue writing. I will continue creating. I will continue sharing my original music. I will continue advocating for survivor dignity, bodily autonomy, and personal boundaries. And I will continue speaking about unwanted sexual content whenever I believe those boundaries are being disregarded. Because I have spent enough of my life dealing with situations where my choices were not respected. I am not going to willingly surrender those choices now. I DIDN'T OPEN X FOR THIS SHIT. I DIDN'T ASK FOR IT. I DIDN'T CHOOSE IT. AND I DON'T HAVE TO ACCEPT IT. MY SCREEN. MY BOUNDARIES. MY FUCKING CHOICE. Written and created by Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot United States Navy Veteran | Author | Independent Musician | Survivor Advocate To explore more of my original music, cinematic protest anthems, spoken-word poetry, and sound healing compositions, search for Julie Jewels Smoot on YouTube or SoundCloud. #IDidntOpenXForThisShit #JulieJewelsSmoot #SoundAlchemistJulieJewelsSmoot #DigitalConsent #MyScreenMyChoice #RespectMyBoundaries #SurvivorEmpowerment #ComplexPTSD #MSTSurvivor #FemaleRage #IndustrialRock #ProtestMusic #WomenWithVoices #OriginalMusic #IndependentMusician #SurvivorAdvocacy #PersonalBoundaries #AuthorHoneyBadger

I AM FUCKING DONE WITH UNWANTED PORNOGRAPHY ON X. I was eleven years old when someone showed me pornography and then raped me. ELEVEN. I was a CHILD. That violence stole the childhood safety I deserved. It left me carrying memories and consequences that no child should ever have to experience. And now, when I open X, I keep encountering pornography and sexual content I NEVER ASKED TO SEE. I am fucking tired of it. I should not have to be confronted with unwanted sexual images every day. I should not have to explain why this content can be triggering. I should not have to defend my right to boundaries. I oppose sexual exploitation, human trafficking, and the abuse of children. I refuse to be silent about the violence survivors endure. NO CHILD CAN CONSENT TO RAPE. GIRLS ARE NOT POSSESSIONS TO BE RAPED. WOMEN ARE NOT POSSESSIONS TO BE RAPED. SEXUAL TRAFFICKING IS ABUSE AND EXPLOITATION. MY BODY IS NOT PUBLIC PROPERTY. MY BOUNDARIES ARE NOT UP FOR DEBATE. To X: Give users meaningful control over whether explicit sexual content appears in their feeds. Respect the people who do not want to see it. I am a Navy veteran, author, musician, and survivor advocate. I have spent enough of my life dealing with the consequences of someone else's violence. I will not apologize for my anger. I will not make my story smaller. And I will not accept being told that unwanted sexual content is something I simply have to tolerate. I WAS ELEVEN. HE RAPED ME. I AM STILL HERE. AND I WILL SPEAK. Julie Jewels Smoot Author Honey Badger #SurvivorVoices #EndSexualViolence #StopHumanTrafficking #ProtectChildren #ConsentMatters #JulieJewelsSmoot

‘I Did Not Consent to See This’ by Julie Jewels Smoot is on #SoundCloud on.soundcloud.com/9c5A5l8Rup… I Did Not Consent to See This A Dark Cinematic Spoken-Word Protest About Digital Consent, Survivor Rights, and Personal Boundaries By Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot Genre: Dark Cinematic Spoken Word | Industrial Protest Poetry | Survivor Empowerment Content Notice: This composition discusses childhood sexual trauma, unwanted exposure to pornography, and the emotional impact of sexual violence. I Did Not Consent to See This is a fierce, unapologetic spoken-word protest about unwanted sexual content on social media, the importance of digital boundaries, and the right to decide what we allow into our personal space. I created this piece because I am tired of encountering pornography on X when I never asked to see it. I open social media to share my music, poetry, writing, sound healing work, and survivor advocacy. I come to connect with people, exchange ideas, and express myself. I do not open an app to have unwanted sexual imagery placed in front of me. And I am tired of feeling as though my boundaries do not matter. I did not consent to see this. Those words are the foundation of this composition. As a survivor of childhood sexual violence, I understand how unexpected sexual imagery can bring painful memories to the surface. I was eleven years old when someone exposed me to pornography and then raped me. I was a child who deserved safety and protection. What happened to me was not my choice. Today, as an adult woman, I have the right to make choices about what I see, what I engage with, and what I allow into my life. This song is about exercising that right. It is not about denying other adults their freedom to make consensual choices. It is about recognizing that one person's freedom to share sexual content does not erase another person's right to control their exposure to it. Through haunting atmospheric sounds, heavy industrial percussion, dark cinematic textures, and commanding spoken-word delivery, this composition moves from controlled frustration into an explosive declaration of personal autonomy. It challenges social media platforms to provide meaningful content controls, respect user preferences, and take unwanted exposure seriously. It also challenges the expectation that survivors should simply remain quiet, look away, or accept repeated exposure to material they have actively tried to avoid. I refuse to accept that my discomfort is the unavoidable price of participating in online communities. I refuse to believe that my boundaries become meaningless when I enter a digital space. And I refuse to apologize for speaking about the emotional consequences of unwanted sexual imagery. My screen is not an invitation. My silence is not acceptance. My boundaries still exist. These words are not just lyrics. They are a declaration. They are a reminder that consent, choice, and respect matter in digital spaces as well as physical ones. As Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot, a United States Navy veteran, author, independent musician, and survivor advocate, I use my creative work to confront difficult subjects and give voice to experiences that are too often dismissed. My music is not always gentle. Sometimes healing-centered expression sounds like anger. Sometimes it sounds like protest. Sometimes it sounds like a woman who has spent years reclaiming her voice and is no longer willing to be silenced. I Did Not Consent to See This is one of those compositions. I created it for myself, for the child I once was, and for every person who has ever felt that their boundaries were ignored. I created it for survivors who deserve to navigate the world without being told their reactions are inconvenient. And I created it because I believe that meaningful choice should not disappear when we open a social media app. No means no. My boundaries deserve respect. My voice belongs to me. I will continue to speak. I will continue to create. And I will continue to advocate for dignity, consent, and the right to choose. I DID NOT CONSENT TO SEE THIS. THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH. Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot United States Navy Veteran | Author | Independent Musician | Survivor Advocate To explore my original music, spoken-word compositions, poetry, and sound healing work, search for Julie Jewels Smoot on YouTube or SoundCloud. #IDidNotConsentToSeeThis #SoundAlchemistJulieJewelsSmoot #JulieJewelsSmoot #AuthorHoneyBadger #DigitalConsent #ConsentMatters #SurvivorVoices #SurvivorAdvocacy #PersonalBoundaries #EndSexualViolence #SpokenWordPoetry #IndustrialSpokenWord #ReclaimingMyVoice #MyBodyMyChoice #IndependentMusic

‘YOU STOLE MY CHILDHOOD, NOT MY VOICE’ by Julie Jewels Smoot is on #SoundCloud on.soundcloud.com/BldrMJVyeM… You Stole My Childhood, Not My Voice A Powerful Spoken-Word Declaration by Julie Jewels Smoot | Author Honey Badger Genre: Dark Cinematic Spoken Word | Industrial Protest Poetry | Survivor Advocacy Content Notice: This spoken-word piece addresses childhood sexual abuse, rape, trauma, pornography exposure, and the lasting impact of sexual violence. Listener discretion is advised. You Stole My Childhood, Not My Voice is a deeply personal, unapologetic spoken-word composition about childhood sexual violence, the lasting impact of rape, and the power of reclaiming one's voice. At eleven years old, I was exposed to pornography and then raped. I was a child who deserved safety, protection, innocence, and the freedom to grow without sexual violence becoming part of my story. That childhood was forever changed. This composition confronts the anger, grief, memories, and emotional consequences that can follow a survivor long after the violence has ended. It speaks about what happens when the world continues to expose survivors to unwanted sexual imagery, including the pornography I repeatedly encounter on X. I am tired of having my boundaries disregarded. I am tired of seeing sexual content I never asked to view. And I am tired of a culture that too often minimizes the experiences of survivors while expecting us to remain quiet about what triggers painful memories. Through commanding spoken-word delivery, dark cinematic atmosphere, heavy percussion, and uncompromising emotion, this piece refuses silence. It is a declaration against childhood sexual abuse, rape, sexual exploitation, and human trafficking. It is a demand for consent, accountability, dignity, and the protection of children. Most importantly, it is my testimony. I am not telling this story to invite pity. I am telling it because what happened to me matters. Because the eleven-year-old girl I once was deserved better. Because rape can affect a survivor's sense of safety, trust, bodily autonomy, and relationship with the world for years afterward. And because no survivor should be required to make their truth more comfortable for others. I was eleven. I was a child. He raped me. Those words are difficult, but they are mine to speak. My anger is part of this composition. So is my refusal to surrender my voice. I cannot change what happened to me as a child, but I can decide how I express my experiences today. I can create music. I can speak openly. I can advocate for survivors. I can establish boundaries and insist that they be respected. You stole my childhood, but you did not steal my voice. This is not a gentle composition. It is raw. It is angry. It is confrontational. It is a survivor refusing to be erased. And it is a reminder that speaking the truth about sexual violence is not something survivors should ever have to apologize for. My body belongs to me. My story belongs to me. My voice belongs to me. I am still here. And I will speak. Julie Jewels Smoot | Author Honey Badger United States Navy Veteran | Author | Independent Musician | Survivor Advocate To discover my spoken-word compositions, original music, and sound healing work, search for Julie Jewels Smoot on YouTube or SoundCloud. #YouStoleMyChildhoodNotMyVoice #JulieJewelsSmoot #AuthorHoneyBadger #SpokenWordPoetry #SurvivorVoices #ChildhoodSexualAbuseAwareness #EndSexualViolence #SurvivorAdvocacy #ConsentMatters #ReclaimingMyVoice #DarkCinematicSpokenWord #IndependentArtist

‘i Was Eleven’ by Julie Jewels Smoot is on #SoundCloud on.soundcloud.com/YqdkXe2QfS… Genre: Dark Cinematic Alternative Rock | Female Empowerment Anthem | Survivor Advocacy Content Notice: This song addresses childhood sexual abuse, rape, trauma, and the lasting effects of sexual violence. I Was Eleven is one of the most personal and emotionally confrontational songs I have created. I was eleven years old when someone exposed me to pornography and then raped me. I was a child. I deserved safety, protection, innocence, and the freedom to experience childhood without sexual violence. Instead, someone violated my body, my trust, and my sense of safety. This song gives voice to the anger, grief, and lasting consequences of that experience. It speaks to the childhood I was denied, the memories I never asked to carry, and the reality that sexual violence does not simply disappear when the assault ends. For survivors, trauma can affect how we experience safety, relationships, boundaries, and even ordinary moments in our daily lives. I know what it means to carry those experiences. And I am no longer willing to make my truth smaller for someone else's comfort. Through haunting verses, explosive rock instrumentation, commanding female vocals, and a defiant chorus, I Was Eleven moves from the pain of childhood violation toward the determination to reclaim my voice. This is not a song about forgiveness. It is not a song about pretending the past no longer matters. And it is not a song about making sexual violence easier for others to hear. It is a song about telling the truth. I am angry that my childhood was violated. I am angry that children experience sexual violence. I am angry about the exploitation and trafficking of vulnerable people. And I am angry that survivors are too often expected to remain silent, minimize their experiences, or tolerate reminders of what happened to them. My anger deserves expression. My boundaries deserve respect. My story deserves to be heard. The chorus declares: I was eleven! I was a child! You stole my childhood, But not my voice today! Those words are at the heart of this song. I cannot return to the childhood I should have experienced. I cannot undo the violence that was committed against me. But I can speak. I can write. I can create music. I can advocate for survivors. And I can refuse to let the person who harmed me determine the rest of my life. As a United States Navy veteran, author, independent musician, and survivor advocate, I use my creative work to address difficult truths, challenge silence, and affirm the dignity of survivors. I Was Eleven is part of that work. It is raw, angry, personal, and unapologetic. It is dedicated to the child I once was and to every survivor who deserves to be heard. I was eleven. I was a child. What happened to me was rape. I will not apologize for naming it. I will not apologize for my anger. And I will not apologize for reclaiming my voice. My body belongs to me. My boundaries belong to me. My story belongs to me. My voice belongs to me. You may have stolen my childhood. But you did not steal my voice. With strength, truth, and determination, Julie Jewels Smoot | Author Honey Badger Navy Veteran | Author | Independent Musician | Survivor Advocate Listen to my original music: Search for Julie Jewels Smoot on YouTube or SoundCloud. #IWasEleven #JulieJewelsSmoot #AuthorHoneyBadger #SurvivorVoices #ChildhoodSexualAbuseAwareness #EndSexualViolence #TraumaSurvivor #ReclaimingMyVoice #DarkCinematicRock #FemaleEmpowerment #SurvivorAdvocacy #OriginalMusic

‘My Feed Is Not Your Playground’ by Julie Jewels Smoot is on #SoundCloud on.soundcloud.com/kdb2t36guE… Genre: Industrial Alternative Rock | Dark Cinematic Protest Anthem | Female Empowerment Content Notice: This song addresses unwanted exposure to pornography, childhood sexual trauma, and the importance of survivor boundaries. My Feed Is Not Your Playground is an angry, unapologetic protest anthem about unwanted pornography on social media, the importance of digital consent, and my right to decide what enters my personal space. I wrote this song because I am sick and tired of opening X and encountering sexual images I never asked to see. I am tired of having my boundaries disregarded. I am tired of being expected to scroll past unwanted content as though my discomfort, my experiences, and my right to choose do not matter. I use social media to share my original music, poetry, books, spoken-word compositions, and sound healing work. I come to connect with others, express myself, and advocate for survivors. I do not come to have pornography appear in my feed without my consent. MY FEED IS NOT YOUR PLAYGROUND. Those words are more than a song title. They are a declaration of personal autonomy. As a survivor of childhood sexual violence, I know that unexpected sexual imagery can bring painful memories and emotions to the surface. I was exposed to pornography at eleven years old and subsequently raped. I was a child who deserved safety and protection. That experience is part of my history, but it does not erase my right to establish boundaries in the present. I am an adult woman now. I have a voice. I have choices. And I have every right to say no to sexual content I do not want to see. Through aggressive industrial percussion, distorted electric guitars, dark cinematic textures, and commanding female vocals, My Feed Is Not Your Playground transforms frustration into a fierce demand for respect. The verses confront the repeated experience of unwanted exposure. The chorus explodes into a declaration: MY FEED IS NOT YOUR PLAYGROUND! MY SCREEN IS NOT YOUR STAGE! I DIDN'T ASK TO SEE IT! I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO RAGE! This song is not about controlling the private choices of consenting adults. It is about demanding meaningful control over my own online experience. It is about expecting social media platforms to respect content preferences, provide effective filtering tools, and take users' boundaries seriously. It is about refusing the idea that participation in a digital community requires accepting unwanted sexual imagery. And it is about recognizing that survivors should not have to repeatedly explain their trauma before their boundaries are considered worthy of respect. My eyes are mine. My attention is mine. My boundaries are mine. My voice is mine. As Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot, a United States Navy veteran, author, independent musician, and survivor advocate, I use music and spoken word to express emotions that deserve to be heard. Sometimes my music is peaceful. Sometimes it is created with gongs, Tibetan singing bowls, handpan, and gentle soundscapes that invite stillness and reflection. And sometimes my music is loud, confrontational, and filled with righteous anger. This is one of those songs. I am not interested in making my experiences more comfortable for people who would rather I remain silent. I am not interested in pretending that unwanted sexual imagery has no impact on survivors. And I am not interested in surrendering my boundaries to an algorithm. My Feed Is Not Your Playground is dedicated to everyone who has ever felt ignored when they said they did not want to see something. It is for survivors reclaiming their choices. It is for people who believe that digital spaces should offer meaningful consent and control. And it is for anyone who has ever been told to simply look away instead of having their boundaries respected. I SAY NO. I SAY STOP. I SAY ENOUGH. I will continue creating. I will continue speaking. I will continue sharing my art. And I will continue standing up for my right to choose what I engage with. MY FEED IS NOT YOUR PLAYGROUND. MY BOUNDARIES ARE NOT A GAME. MY VOICE WILL NOT BE SILENCED. Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot United States Navy Veteran | Author | Independent Musician | Survivor Advocate To discover more of my original music, spoken-word compositions, poetry, and sound healing work, search for Julie Jewels Smoot on YouTube or SoundCloud. #MyFeedIsNotYourPlayground #SoundAlchemistJulieJewelsSmoot #JulieJewelsSmoot #AuthorHoneyBadger #DigitalConsent #ConsentMatters #SurvivorVoices #SurvivorAdvocacy #PersonalBoundaries #IndustrialRock #ProtestAnthem #FemaleEmpowerment #ReclaimingMyVoice #IndependentMusic

‘The Girl Who Found Her Voice’ by Julie Jewels Smoot is on #SoundCloud on.soundcloud.com/jF6YTKZ2nC… A Powerful Cinematic Rock Anthem About Childhood Trauma, Survival, Healing, and Reclaiming My Voice By Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot Genre: Cinematic Alternative Rock | Emotional Female Empowerment Anthem | Survivor Resilience Content Notice: This song addresses childhood sexual trauma, the lasting effects of abuse, grief, emotional healing, and survivor empowerment. The Girl Who Found Her Voice is a deeply personal, emotional, and empowering song about the little girl I once was, the experiences that changed my life, and the woman I have become. This song is about reclaiming my voice after years of carrying pain, trauma, grief, and memories that no child should ever have to experience. I was eleven years old when someone exposed me to pornography and then raped me. I was a child. I deserved safety. I deserved protection. I deserved kindness, innocence, and the freedom to grow without someone violating my body and my trust. Instead, I experienced something that changed the way I understood the world around me. For years, I have carried the consequences of experiences I never chose. I live with Complex PTSD. I know what it means to experience difficult memories, overwhelming emotions, and moments when the past feels much closer than I would like. I also know what it means to continue living, creating, and searching for ways to express what words alone sometimes cannot explain. The Girl Who Found Her Voice is about that journey. It is about the child who deserved to be heard. It is about the woman who learned that her experiences matter. And it is about discovering that my voice was never something I needed another person to give me permission to use. Through intimate piano melodies, haunting strings, emotional female vocals, powerful electric guitars, and soaring cinematic rock arrangements, this song moves through vulnerability, grief, anger, courage, and self-determination. The opening honors the innocence of childhood and the safety every child deserves. The verses acknowledge the reality of trauma without pretending that surviving it is simple. The chorus rises into a declaration of identity and personal power: SHE'S THE GIRL WHO FOUND HER VOICE! THE WOMAN WHO RECLAIMED HER CHOICE! SHE'S THE FIRE THAT STILL BURNS BRIGHT! These words represent something deeply important to me. I am not simply the things that happened to me. I am not defined solely by the people who harmed me. I am a woman with a history, a voice, a creative spirit, and the right to decide what my life means to me. At 48 years old, I have experienced more than I ever imagined I would. I have survived trauma. I have experienced profound grief, including losing my mother to metastatic breast cancer. I have served in the United States Navy. I have written 13 books. I have released several albums of original music. And I continue to create poetry, spoken-word compositions, and sound healing music because expression matters to me. None of those accomplishments erase what I have experienced. They are parts of a life that is still unfolding. I do not have to pretend that everything is healed. I do not have to forgive the people who harmed me. I do not have to turn my pain into an inspirational story for someone else's comfort. And I do not have to hide my anger, grief, exhaustion, or vulnerability to prove that I am strong. My strength does not require me to be unaffected by what happened. Some days I feel powerful. Some days I feel tired. Some days I need quiet, rest, and space. Other days I find myself writing another poem, creating another song, or discovering another way to express what I have carried. All of those experiences belong to me. As Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot, I create music that reflects the many dimensions of being human. Sometimes that music is gentle and meditative, featuring gongs, Tibetan singing bowls, handpan, and peaceful soundscapes. Sometimes it is angry and confrontational. And sometimes, as with The Girl Who Found Her Voice, it is both tender and powerful. This song is not about pretending the past never happened. It is about recognizing that I still have choices in the present. I can speak. I can create. I can establish boundaries. I can say no. I can grieve. I can rest. I can decide who has access to my life. And I can continue discovering who I am without allowing another person's actions to write the rest of my story. I AM THE GIRL WHO FOUND HER VOICE. I am also the woman who continues learning how to use it. This song is dedicated to the eleven-year-old girl I once was. To the child who deserved protection. To the child who deserved to be believed. To the child who should never have had to experience sexual violence. And to every survivor who is finding their own way to express their truth. There is no deadline for healing. There is no requirement to become someone else's definition of strong. There is no obligation to tell your story before you are ready. Your voice belongs to you, whether you choose to speak loudly, whisper, sing, write, or remain quiet. Your choices matter. Your boundaries matter. Your existence matters. I cannot change what happened to the little girl I once was. But I can honor her by refusing to abandon myself today. I can continue writing. I can continue making music. I can continue speaking about survivor dignity, bodily autonomy, and the importance of consent. And I can continue living as the woman I am, without apologizing for taking up space. I AM NOT THE SILENCE OR THE PAIN. I AM THE ONE WHO SPEAKS MY NAME. My story belongs to me. My body belongs to me. My boundaries belong to me. My music belongs to me. And my voice belongs to me. I am the girl who found her voice. And that voice is mine. Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot United States Navy Veteran | Author | Independent Musician | Survivor Advocate To explore more of my original music, spoken-word compositions, poetry, books, and sound healing work, search for Julie Jewels Smoot on YouTube or SoundCloud. #TheGirlWhoFoundHerVoice #SoundAlchemistJulieJewelsSmoot #JulieJewelsSmoot #AuthorHoneyBadger #SurvivorVoices #SurvivorEmpowerment #ComplexPTSD #TraumaAwareness #ChildhoodTrauma #ReclaimingMyVoice #HealingOnMyOwnTimeline #FemaleEmpowerment #CinematicRock #OriginalMusic #IndependentArtist #MusicWithMeaning

I am 48 years old, and I have been through more in my life than you could possibly know. I have experienced trauma, loss, grief, and challenges that have changed me in ways I am still learning to understand. I lost my mother to metastatic breast cancer. I live with Complex PTSD. I live with chronic pain. I have endured experiences that I would never wish on another human being, and I am still here. I am a United States Navy veteran. I am an author who has written 13 books. I am an independent musician who has released several albums. I am a sound alchemist, a poet, and a survivor advocate. I have worked hard to create something meaningful from my experiences. My books, my music, my poetry, and my advocacy are expressions of who I am and what I have lived through. I don't have to pretend to be an important person. I don't pretend to be anyone special. I don't walk around believing I am better than anyone else. I am simply a woman who has been through a hell of a lot and is tired and fed up with people making assumptions about me. I am tired of being judged. I am tired of being dismissed. I am tired of people acting as though they know my life, my struggles, my intentions, or my worth based on something they see online. You don't know the battles I have fought. You don't know the grief I carry from losing my mother. You don't know what it takes to live with Complex PTSD or how much strength it can require just to keep moving forward. And you certainly don't get to decide whether I am important enough to share my voice. I know who I am. I know what I have survived. I know what I have accomplished. And I know why I continue creating music, writing books, speaking my truth, and advocating for survivors. I am not looking for fame. I am not pretending to be a celebrity. I am not asking anyone to put me on a pedestal. I am a 48-year-old woman who has experienced tremendous pain, worked hard, created things she believes in, and refuses to apologize for existing. I have every right to take up space. I have every right to share my work. I have every right to express my anger, grief, joy, creativity, and truth. And I have every right to live my life without explaining myself to someone who has already decided to judge me. I don't have to pretend to be somebody important. I am already somebody. I am Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot. I know who I am, I know what I stand for, and I don't give a damn if you don't like what I am doing. You don't have to like me. You don't have to listen to my music. You don't have to read my books. You don't even have to agree with me. But your opinion does not determine my worth, and it will not silence my voice. I am not pretending to be anyone. I am being myself. And that is more than enough.

I am so fucking fed up with being shown unwanted pornography on X that I have created and released FIVE original songs in response to this garbage. I am a survivor, a musician, an author, and a woman who refuses to be silenced. I did NOT consent to seeing porn on my feed. My screen is NOT an invitation, and my boundaries are NOT negotiable. I turned my anger into music because I have every right to speak out about unwanted sexual content. If your page contains pornography, you WILL be reported and blocked. I don't give a damn whether you like my stance. MY FEED. MY BOUNDARIES. MY CHOICE. — Sound Alchemist Julie Jewels Smoot, JS Worldbridger, Author Honey Badger.