Broken and beautiful
Hello all, I decided to start blogging again today because I was both reminded of my struggle and that I am not alone in it.
For those of you who might not know me, My name is Heather. I am a 34 year old mother of 2. I have met all of society's goals for me. I am married, I am highly educated and can in many ways be classified as a middle class American- home ownership suburbia and all.
Be that as it may, there was a moment today, a brief moment that came like lightening I was overcome with the vision of my wrist splayed open- and this vision- brought a cool sense of relief. You see, I have experienced trauma. Rape, molestation, I have been slapped, grabbed by my hair and thrown on the floor.Degraded, terrified, and silenced. I am strong, I have risen, but I am bruised. The bruises have names. PTSD, Generalized anxiety disorder panic disorder and chronic depression.
What am I supposed to do... I'm not sure. I can only tell you what happened next. I saw my sweet babies. I remembered that if I chose that cool and permanent relief my children would be so much more likely to make the same choice, and that would not do. Then... I texted someone who loves me, and I told my truth...leaving room in my heart and head for truth. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Much love to all.
-Heather
For those of you who might not know me, My name is Heather. I am a 34 year old mother of 2. I have met all of society's goals for me. I am married, I am highly educated and can in many ways be classified as a middle class American- home ownership suburbia and all.
Be that as it may, there was a moment today, a brief moment that came like lightening I was overcome with the vision of my wrist splayed open- and this vision- brought a cool sense of relief. You see, I have experienced trauma. Rape, molestation, I have been slapped, grabbed by my hair and thrown on the floor.Degraded, terrified, and silenced. I am strong, I have risen, but I am bruised. The bruises have names. PTSD, Generalized anxiety disorder panic disorder and chronic depression.
What am I supposed to do... I'm not sure. I can only tell you what happened next. I saw my sweet babies. I remembered that if I chose that cool and permanent relief my children would be so much more likely to make the same choice, and that would not do. Then... I texted someone who loves me, and I told my truth...leaving room in my heart and head for truth. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Much love to all.
-Heather
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