I fight with you...

I got home from my almost 3 week road trip on a high. Ready to move even more forward with life. With Sam, with the kids, with goal's, with moving. I had actually forgotten about the shit that had come to surround my days and about my father's upcoming criminal trial. These things had not haunted my days and nights my entire trip away. And I had been home not even 20 hours when I had reality shoved back into my face. Crashing down upon me like a boulder. As soon as my phone started ringing and I saw the number with “that” area code my heart went to my toes. I remembered again. I remembered that the hell wasn’t over. We still had to face more pain again, drag through things I had nursed and healed from and was wanting to close the door on. I still had to face yet again that face of that person I want to never have to physically see ever again. The excitement and high from my trip felt imediatly distant. The depression hit instantly and I felt the hopelessness trying to creep back in and take back over. After spending a hour on the phone with the district attorney I closed myself off in my room from Sam and the kids for the rest of the day late into the night trying to wrap my head around the next month that was going to come for us all not just myself. Feeling the fear in my gut and trying to cry the pain that arose up out of my body. Looking for the strength that I knew I had deep down to ward off the helpless agony. I had to say I was going to do this. I was going to witness against my perpetrator and I was going to be a voice for myself. Stand up for myself. He no longer would have or has power over me. He was not walking away and hiding behind religion, or anyone or anything else any longer. He was not going to do this to anyone else, he was not going to get away with the wrong he did. He was going to have to face it all. No more lies. No more damn masks. I am getting out of his hell he caused and he is staying in it alone for the rest of his days. I sat with my head in my hands letting myself feel the pain and and letting the pain remind me how strong I am and that I could do this. I would do this.

This journey has gone on for what feels like so very long. And every time I have gotten to a place where I have been ready to walk through a door and close it behind me it feels as though I have gotten drug back into the room again with my siblings coming to live with us, then court hearings to being a witness in their trials; I am so ready for this to be done and us to able to move forward into better healing future as a family as individuals. I keep wanting to put people and events behind me. I’m ready for the change, for the good, and the fight does get so very weary. I can see the end…I think. It’s hard to not see that light at the end of another long dark tunnel and expect it to just be another oncoming train instead. The last year has been the hardest year yet and the weeks that came after my trip literally felt like the peak of that hardness from the phone calls, to meetings, to the long drives to their court hearings. I may have been shaking, I may have been sick to my stomach, I may have had to stop and sit and just breath, my voice may have been shaky, but I spoke my truth and I put the shame and pain where it belonged, squarely on the abusers shoulders. I will be strong for me. I will be a voice for myself and all those who are not yet strong enough to have found their voice. I will fight through the nightmares at night. I will fight through waking up from those nightmares and freaking out that a man is in my bed even though it is my husband who is the one trust worthy man I have ever known. I will fight through waking up in my closet and not remembering how I got there. I will fall apart when I need too and be strong for the kids in my house watching how I am handling these battles. I will fight because that is who I am. I will fight because I love myself. I will fight because I am a survivor. I will fight because I am not ashamed. Because I am proud of myself. And what that man did bruised me, shattered me and the lives around me, left deep searing red scars upon me for life, but I will not be defined by it. I can choose how it affects me from here on out. I can choose the outcome now. And that is what the fight is for. I will fight because I am no longer a victim I am a victor.

So I say to you. Be brave. Don’t be ashamed. Your story is not a disgrace. Your story is not a burden. You are beautiful. You are worthy. You are good. You can fight. You will fight. You can get up every day and face those same demons until they have been defeated no matter how long it takes. And however long it takes that is okay. I am sorry for the things that have happened to you. I am sorry for the pain you have been caused. But you are more than what has happened to you and you are more than that pain. You matter. It will hurt and it will be frustrating, but believe me that you do matter and being vulnerable is the most valuable thing you can give to yourself and to the world. I believe in you. I believe in your scars becoming something beautiful. And I fight alongside you. I fight with you.

"Do not be afraid of your truth anymore. And do not omit pieces of it for anyone else's comfort."