There was a lot of wonderful feedback from this blog post, and I wanted to share it again for those who may have missed it. Last year I made myself the promise to embrace my story while not letting it define me. With a new year, and plenty of new opportunities just waiting to be embraced, I am reminding myself that I am more than my story. I’m living my life in the lower case.
Thank you all for your wonderful support.
Everyone has something that defines them. Whether it is something heroic, or a challenge they’ve overcome, or a spectacular failure they vow never to repeat, we all have something. It’s the yard stick we measure all else against, but sometimes it’s a pain we fiercely hold onto lest we forget its lessons and find ourself knee deep in the very thing we’ve spent our whole lives running from.
I call mine, My Story.
It was a long time ago now, but My Story begins when I was ten years old. I was sexually abused by someone with authority over me. He raped me once, and I remember staring at the corner of the doorframe as the world crushed against my chest and my legs, while I willed my mind to imagine what it would feel like to be a tiny bug crawling up the doorframe. There was no option to…
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