Category Trauma Recovery

The Faces Have No Eyes

Sometimes I write blog posts as a means to connect to you all, or in an attempt to communicate something I find profound. Today, this post is simply me needing to put words into the universe.  When I wake after dreaming that I have been molested or sexually assaulted, I can still feel the fingers […]


Worms and Wounds

Yesterday, I was sitting in the huge apple tree in our backyard. I love trees. I hate heights. Somehow I am okay if I am climbing a tree. This tree has a lot of lovely, thick branches that spread out almost horizontally. They are perfect for crawling out on and nesting yourself between. This is […]

The Safety Dance

I am always ready. Ready for hands to dart around corners, for shadows to come to life. I am ready for strangers to attack, for footsteps to mean someone is coming for me. I am ready for my nightmares to be real. I am on alert for voices to turn sharp and cold, I watch […]

A Letter To My Abuser: Part 3

I don’t know how to let you go. Not that I cannot forgive you. In some ways it is both easier and harder to forgive an abuser that is faceless. The harder part is that the forgiveness feels vague and insubstantial, nebulous. I can forgive; I can somehow understand and not resent you. I understand […]

A Letter To My Abuser: Part 2

If I could know your name, see your face clearly, if I could sit you down now, I wouldn’t ask for apology or explanation. I don’t care if you’re sorry, I don’t care if you’re not. I don’t care why you did it. I just want to know what happened: what happened to me. I […]

A Letter to My Abuser: Part 1

I don’t know your name. I don’t know the shape of your face, except in the shadows at night, and in the dark figures of my nightmares. I don’t know if I need to know who you are, if I ever will know. But I write this in an attempt to make you real. To […]

Because Our Hearts Are Broken Together

The other day, I was bemoaning how the trauma of my past seems so much more debilitating than it could ever be helpful: to me, to others, to Christ. Helpful for the ultimate point of serving God better -or freaking serving him at all. I said to God, “wouldn’t I be so much more useful […]

Nighttime is a Battlefield

Tuesday was National Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder Awareness Day. I know this because I have a bookmark saved to my browser that lists all of the “national celebratory days.” I use this page so that I can track with the really important holidays, like National Peanut Butter Lover’s Day (March 1st),  National Fruitcake Toss Day (January […]

I Don’t Even Know Your Name

Your hands shaped the way I see myself, directed the dreams I dream at night, created the pictures I see in the shadows when I should be sleeping. I am furiously and frantically enraged, but I don’t know where to direct it: I don’t even know your name. I don’t know how to grieve that […]

A Different Kind of Coming Out Story

I frequently wake up in the middle of the night terrified that someone is standing over me as I lie in bed. Or convinced that someone is lurking in my doorway. Or leering from the darkened closet. Most often I freeze in those moments, held by some long-ago rule that tells me if I do […]