I came across this quote the other day that really struck me.

For years I spent walking through life with a foggy filter in my brain and gaze, just trying to get by. Just trying to survive. I didn’t get really know it was there – all I knew was that I wasn’t going to let my trauma destroy my life.

But year after year, the person that I had to become to survive grew out of hand. She would lose control more often, spiral into dark, hollow depressions, put so much energy into maintaining and putting on masks. All for the sake of graduating. For the sake of still fulfilling her dreams of living abroad. For the sake of getting her graduate degree.

My protective mechanisms began to destroy me over time.

I felt incredibly misunderstood. There is not handbook for when your father molests you. Step 1: Don’t even atry to pick up the pieces – your heart and soul have been utterly obliterated. Step 2: Become a zombie inside, but maintain like everything is fine and normal on the outside. Step 3: Project, project, project. Be scared of everyone. You can’t trust anyone – let alone yourself. You knew him your whole life and never saw the signs?

So vicious. Unforgiving. Ruthless. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

I realized that I was indulging in my suffering. Which is an incredibly difficult lesson to learn because of course I have every right to be angry and devastated. And I was. And I still am. But my relationship with those emotions have shifted. At some point, it is a choice. But you can never force or rush this process. If someone had tried to explain this to me five years ago, I probably would have lashed out.

Over ten years later, and I couldn’t have even fathomed the life I have now. I would’ve never dreamed it for myself. A home. A stable, loving relationship. A steady job that pays well. My pets. Being able to pay rent. Afford car payments. Clothes. Food.

And don’t get me started on my personal debt. Shopping was a coping mechanism for my unrelenting sorrow. And I didn’t plan on being around to pay for the consequences. But now I can afford my debt bills, too.

I still don’t have much to my name financially. But oh boy am I now teeming with gratitude, resilience, formidable strength, and, dare I say, joy.

So after the unnavigable process of suffering and healing I’ve endured, I finally feel like I know what step I’m on. Where I can finally get my bearings. Where I can finally focus. Where I can live. And that involves letting go of the person I had to become to survive.

I love her deeply. I hug her as I release her from chains, tending to her wounds. I wipe her tears, and say over and over, “I love you. You are free. I am okay now.”

But this is also a journey. And such is healing.