I've been waiting to write this post for the past few weeks. Counting down the numbers that brought me closer to this, my sixty-third post of the year, the same number of posts I wrote last year.
And they are more than just simple entries.
They are my story. The sad truth of a year lived in sorrow, a year spent hiding and living with fear. And I cannot be honest with anyone if I say that I came through all of that just fine. The truth is I came out on the other side fractured in ways I am still learning. Things that make me cringe, things that make me want to run as far and as fast as I can.
I know what it's like to be emotionally crippled. To be broken down slowly, one small piece at a time, until the only thing you can feel is the fault he lays at your door. Whether he meant to be that teacher or just came by it naturally I'll never know. All I know is that I am thankful for where I am and for where he is not...
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