recovering motherhood

Recovery. Family. Faith.

Memory is a strange thing for the traumatized mind. Some memories are nothing more than apparitions of smell, emotion, and touch; try as I might to put flesh on these ghosts, they remain as formless as mist rising in the morning. Other memories are clear on the big picture yet lack details. I remember his …

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Dear Mother, Dear Father: There is no easy introduction. There is no careful beginning to help soften the blow. When I was a child, a small child, I was sexually abused. This is a confession a life-time in the making. This is a truth never uttered verbally from my lips. Even staring at those words …

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The deepest kind of sadness is felt by one who is lonely in that sadness. Although I endeavor to share my experience and my hope, there are certain places where that raw loneliness has remained untouched by another human soul. Those deep places, still bleeding after all these years. My sex is something painful. On …

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