"Healing means having faith and committing to getting better. Healing means not giving up- having so much hope."
-Me

11-23
I recently wrote two letters- one to my mom and one to my cousin...they are letters that will never be sent, but it has felt good to not just write them- but to read them out loud. So finally, I thought I'd post them here. Mom's is first, cousins is second.

Dear Mom,
I have been wanting to write this for a long time, but I never thought it would do any good. It probably won�t do any good now, as I don�t think you�ll believe me anyway. But I�m tired of being silent; I�m tired of you not knowing me. So I�m going to dive right into it. When I was a kid, in middle school, "insert cousin's name" sexually abused me. I don�t know any other way to put it. I�ve kept it secret for so many years now it�s ridiculous. I didn�t tell a soul until I met my counselor. And it was only then I felt it was safe enough to utter those words, after a year of therapy. That was the cause of one of my hospital visits, and it remains a big reason I remain in therapy.

I didn�t tell you then, or at any other time, because simply, I felt you wouldn�t believe me. What�s more, I didn�t think you�d do anything about it. I didn�t trust you to protect me, because you weren�t there for me then anyway. And as a kid�"insert cousins name" was showing me the most positive attention anyone had given me for a long, long time.

So why am I dropping this bomb on you now. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I am tired of keeping the family secrets. I am tired of you wanting to only show off my good side, forgetting I am just a human, who makes mistakes too�who has struggled long and hard, but made it. And don�t you dare, don�t you dare get angry at me for choosing this time to tell you. There is NO good time to tell someone you were sexually abused. But this weighed me so far down that I now have to tell. I can�t keep this secret inside me any long because it�s killing me. I even go to a sexual abuse survivors support group and have been for months now. Yet another secret. I am a good secret keeper mom, because you made me into one. Until it became a choice of mine.

And you have a choice now too. To believe your daughter. To love me no matter what. To accept the choice to have kept this secret for fear of many things. I am a strong woman mom, much stronger than you or anyone else could ever imagine. Enduring that secret has been a strong thing to do. But now I�m moving past strong and to courageous. Because it is courageous of me to tell you. Because I don�t deserve to hold this burden alone. I deserve to be loved and supported by my family, something I don�t ever really feel. I feel like I have to hide myself and who I am because you judge me- either I�m crazy, or the daughter you always wanted. But I�m also in- between. I am forging my own path�the one I envision and the one I want.

I have never intentionally burdened this family. I am not selfish as you have sometimes thought, because I sought help. If I had not gone to the hospital every time I have�I would be dead. I stay in therapy out of need, not want. The hospital visits were NOT HURTING YOU�they hurt me. I was the one hurting Mom�don�t you understand that. I wanted to take my life�because depression over took me, pain over took me. But every single time I went in, you blamed me, that I was making you hurt. But it wasn�t about YOU�it was about ME�and living. I know you want me to live�and if I had to go to a locked psychiatric ward to do so, don�t you think it was worth it? Can you understand the depths of despair I was in? Maybe you can�t. I lived because of the actions I have taken�the hospitals, the meds, and the therapy. All of that has saved my life, and instead of being angry at all of those things mom, maybe you can be happy I have them available to me�because I have lived. And lived well.

More about me that you don�t know. I run one of the most successful online support groups. Me�little ole me affects hundreds of lives every single day. I have saved lives even mom. I have seen people at their depths of despair, and instead of judging them or their situation, I have held out my hand and they have taken that hand and walked that healing path with me. I have done TV reports with reporters and been interviewed for magazines. I have shared none of this with you for fear of rejection and you judging me, as you have in the past. I make a difference in this world mom, I do. And yes, Self Injury is not something to be proud of, or something you would have wanted your daughter to be involved in�but because I suffered from this and beat it, I have saved so many others.

I am making a difference on campus, soon to meet with Deans to discuss dangerous behavior on campus, and my research is what allowed this to happen. I am getting published (hopefully) at some point. And I hope to do many more research studies. Yeah, during the morning I am a student, during the day I am a therapist, and at night�I run a support group while doing my homework.

I spent a lot of time alone, not trusting anyone. I won�t speculate why that is, because I know you�ll turn a blind eye to what I have to say. But know that your daughter is finally getting happy. I found things I love, like music�and a few people that I am learning to trust and be friends with. I still prefer solitude at times, but its only because I won�t compromise my beliefs to make a friend of two. I am who I am�strong moral character and I make a stand in this world. And I refuse to let my disorder and my past define me. And I write this letter now, because I refuse to lose my mom completely. And maybe this will break us up�but I�d rather have our relationship die out on honesty rather than thinly veiled lies. Before you leave me, I want you to at least know who you are going to leave.

I have hurt so much mom and you haven�t a clue. How do you think that makes me feel? How sad it is that when I have a bad day, or when I need help�you are the last person I would turn to. Because if I accepted your help, it would be years full of guilt trips and having you throw that in my face. Or you reject and judge me because of some mistake I made. Or because I supposedly didn�t listen to you�because I wanted to go my own way. Your love is conditional, and I understand that. Because I�ve heard you at your coldest, when you told me I wasn�t your daughter- and for what mom? Because I am not want you always wanted�because I�m different. I think of (insert brothers names)�and I know you would never say that to them�or maybe you would, I don�t know. But I know�one day when I�m a parent�I would never turn my back on my child. Even if she told me she hated me every day�I would love her�always�and do whatever I could to help her�without guilt trips�but simply because I love her. Because a parent does things for their child�without asking for anything in return, not even love. You had children to have someone to love you mom, and that was wrong. Children are the gift, not you. I will always love you�and the fact that you would doubt that hurts. But maybe it hurts that I would doubt your love too. And I�m sorry for that, but I know I didn�t get like this on my own.

I am bitter�and saddened mom. Because you didn�t protect me as a child. I was abused so much, and maybe you don�t believe you ever abused me�but others did and you did nothing. But you taught me how to keep those secrets. You taught me how to keep myself inside because no one could ever possibly love the real me inside. And you let me grow up too fast, before I could be a child. And I know you say you were only a child too�but that is no excuse. You became a parent too young yes, but that doesn�t nullify your role as parent. It doesn�t make it right. And just because you had it �worse� doesn�t mean what you do to me is right either. And I don�t pretend to be right. But I know the hurt I feel inside is real. And I hope one day you will know that hurt I feel inside�understand it�and just hold me like a mother should.

This�is my letter to you. This is my love to you, this is me. The real me, not the one invented, not the abused little girl who said nothing. But the strong woman before you who has always refused to give up. Love me, hate me�I will always love you.

Dear "insert cousins name",
We haven�t spoken or seen each other in eight years. But this is my letter to you so I can bury the past, so I can get my hurt out, so I can make it real. When my family moved to "insert state", there was one bright spot that I really loved. The fact that I now had a cool Aunt, your mom, around and I had a cousin who paid some attention to me and even seemed to enjoy my company at times. I knew everything was not right with you or your family, your family had some vast secrets just as mine did. And so we played together often, as our mom�s got to know each other again.

You gave me a lot of things "insert cousins name"- a cousin, a friend�someone who would not beat me up but show some positive attention. For that I was always grateful. But you also took something from me, and for that you can never be forgiven. I do not know what possessed you to approach me in that pool that day. I didn�t know exactly what you were doing, but it did feel wrong. But in my mind� I couldn�t conceive of how you could do me wrong, when so many other people were. What you did was not the kind of hurt I was used to or even knew about.

But through all those weeks and months you took me to the darkened room, you used and abused me- you took what you wanted and left it at that. I was still a little girl, though I would tell you I acted older. And I�m sure I did, but I was also very, very naive. You were older and bigger and you knew what you wanted.

I used to say I was to blame, and I think some part of me still believes that. Because I stopped saying no, and in fact, did not shy away after a while. But now I realize too, that you were older, bigger and you were showing me supposedly good attention. I think back and wonder how I could have refused you�and lose your affection and attention, which I so desperately craved. Whether you knew it was wrong or right, I�m not sure. But that doesn�t excuse your behavior or what you did to me.

You took away the hope that I would ever have good intimate relations for a long time. You set up a later abuse with a boyfriend. I lost my voice, and I lost myself from the first time you climbed on top of me. I became only Erin the pleaser�Erin who would do anything to get love and attention from those around her. Because I knew that all could change in an instant. My mom would hit me right after saying I love you�my brother for the most part just enjoyed torturing me and my father could spank me if my mom said so. The people that loved me hurt me, and because of that I learned the fine art of pleasing and being what everyone wanted me to be. I became your rag doll to do as you please.

And now looking back, I see what it did to me. And I get sad�for the little girl that didn�t know better, and for the woman now�who has to come to grips with the fact that those who loved me also hurt me the most and are for the most part not remorseful. You were just another notch on the hurt belt. Just another person to take me, abuse me and tell me its love.

And I�ve learned- if all that is love, then I want nothing to do with it. If an embrace is going to sting, then I don�t want to be touched. If making my body respond at 11 years old is positive attention, then I don�t want to be in a situation where my body could betray me again.

I don�t even know if you remember what used to happen in "insert state here", or if you even care�and that is why I write this now�more for me than you�to put the blame where it belongs. Not just on you, I admit, but also on our families�who continued the cycle of abuse. But that will never excuse what you did. You had a choice, just as we all did and you made your choice. And I have to live with the consequences of your choice for the rest of my life.

Somehow, I thought I�d be angrier at you, but maybe because it�s so far removed that I�m out of touch with it�or maybe I�ve hid it for so long it will take a long time to come out. But I am sad�sad that you made that choice, sad that I didn�t know any better and sad that I�ve kept this secret all these years. And sad that you took my very soul, you struck at the heart of all the hurt that had been dealt to me and have become the epitome of what it was like growing up abused.

I only take comfort in the fact that I have found myself�and the fire that is inside me. And I will heal from those wounds you inflicted so long ago. One day, when I�m ready, I�ll be able to be intimate and not have flash backs or want to run away. And I take comfort in my choices- that I will not continue the cycle of abuse, no matter what was done to me. No one deserves that kind of abuse and hurt. Not even me.

And this is my letter to you "insert cousins name". The cousin I once loved so much. And here is where I bury the hurt and the pain�and give back the blame. It�s your burden to bear, not mine�it�s your shame, not mine. So take it, you earned it. And I will live in freedom ever after.

11-18
Shutting the door to depression has freed me in a way I never thought possible. Saying no to liking the dark and wanting to stay there opened up my mind and my heart. I feel things that I�ve never felt before. And that is very scary, but comforting as well. I used to be so numb to my feelings and it wasn�t until recently that I realized numbing myself also numbed me from the good feelings- joy and happiness. I suppose in the past it was worth it because I could not have survived hurting so much. Yet at the same time it shut me off from the world because I could not comprehend being okay, being happy. So I stayed in the never ending cycle of depression.

Until finally I had enough. If I didn�t start opening up, start telling my stories, my secrets, I�d be missing out on an awfully good life. At some point I had to knock down some of my walls and let a little of the hurt in. To do so meant I�d at least have a shot at a life. In doing so, I slowly realized I was smiling more, laughing more�I was feeling things, good things that I�d never felt before. The real pain is hard to take at times- it hurts so much. And to remember- really remember the pain and abuse- indescribable pain.

But I�ve realized its worth it. Because I smile and I laugh more- I can be happy now. Hurtful things can happen, disaster can strike, but that�s okay- I can work through it. I can still experience joy and happiness. I no longer see those disasters as the end of the road, but I see it as another dark tunnel to walk through. But it has sky lights, little slices of light that can carry me through. Or maybe I have head lights now. I learned how to turn them on (I have moved on from just using Bobb�s (my counselors) maglite ---some of you might remember that reference ).

So I guess it�s taking that chance, that first step. Scariest step I�ve ever made. Finally putting my faith in something, believing that I deserved to live this life. And as I progress I�m still unsure, still scared. But I made that first step and I decided: Not to save anything for the swim back.

�I need to believe in something extraordinary is possible�
- A Beautiful Mind

And I do. And because I have hope and I take those next steps I had that moment:
�It was the one moment in our lives that my brother was not as strong as he believed and I was not as weak. It was the moment that made everything else possible.�- Gattaca
I like that moment. Each of us are capable of such moments, if we can just believe and can just take that step. We survived. What strength, what courage that took- to make it through all that. And now that we are in the here and now�what strength and what courage it would take to begin to live our lives. The lives we were always meant for if only our pasts did not get in the way.

�What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.�
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Healing lies within us. Something no abuser could take from us. Our hope, faith, belief in ourselves, grace, redemption, strength, courage, and a chance at life. That stayed with us through everything. Just as our worth is inherent, so are those qualities. Inherent- they can not take those away from us.

We will live and live well.

�I�m so glad that you made it here,
With the things you know now that only time could tell,
Looking back, seeing far, landing right where you are,
Oh you�re aging, oh and I am aging
Oh, aren�t we aging well.�

11-13
Secret Keepers
We�re called the great pretenders and great actors, but I think most of all we�re great secret keepers. If you think about it- at first we are forced to keep the secrets, but later it becomes our choice. What a coup for our abusers. To get us to keep our secrets even when we are safe and sound. And that is why we need to tell our stories, tell our secrets. Are we really willing to bleed for those secrets? To die for those secrets? And for what�so our abusers can win? I don�t think so. If anyone deserves to live and live well�it is us! Do NOT let them win. Tell your stories, tell your secrets and begin to live your life and not just survive it.

The nights of peril
Haunt her lonely eyes

Nights filled with rage flash through her eyes,
Thunder crashing, the pain shatters her heart.
The taste of blood remains on her lips,
The door slamming, signals a goodbye.

This crushing pain
Rips through her heart

Love was missing from those cold embraces,
There�s an empty room she sits in-
Looks to hold something, hear a soothing voice.
The door shut even to God�s grace.

Alone in her life
The great secret keeper

The darkened room stained with his sin,
Still feeling the stinging of a mothers love,
Her other half takes her breath, her protection.
She will always hide where she�s been.

11-13
Crying
Well, I guess I ought to begin to figure out my wall blocking my ability to cry. My first couple of thoughts are these. First, as a child I was definitely receiving the message not to cry. If I began crying during a spanking, I was hit harder and more. If my brother was in the process of beating me and I cried too loud, then he'd smother me. With my cousin I knew we were doing something secret and wrong, it wasn't too painful, so no crying there. IF my mom was in her raging spree and yelling and I began to cry she would tell me that if I didn't' stop then she would give me something to cry about.

So the messages received: Crying must be very wrong to receive extra punishment for it. If I cried while not being physically harmed, then I must be weak. And what goes with that, I learned if I cried I'd lose my parents protection from harm.

Now, the couple times I have wanted to cry- what stopped me? I never mentioned this, but honestly, as I could feel my eyes welling, I told myself: "DON'T CRY!" Now, I am forever saying that I want to cry, so I find this interesting...that I'd tell myself this. It was like such an immediate reaction- incredible. And it did its job, I immediately stopped, and that was it.

I think that I need to make sure that immediate reaction doesn't come. SO I guess the other thoughts with this- no one has seen me cry for a long time (other than my wicked mom, so yeah no good there). I think perhaps I am afraid of someone else's reaction. Since it is something I don't experience often and don't know- I created a wall.

Somehow I need to be okay with being that vulnerable with someone. And I suppose to some degree vulnerable with myself. Burying those messages from the past. Say to myself that it is okay to hurt and to show my hurt through tears. Maybe I need to teach myself that crying does show my pain- not cutting as I once thought. I don't need that physical pain to express my emotions and hurt.

Perhaps another root of my self injury?? Never thought about this exactly, so bear with me as I work this out. I'd be hurting and then to express that hurt I wanted something physical and I'd tell myself- I can take this pain, I can "suck it up." Kind of like when I was just a kid.

Hurt = physical pain.

I never learned that tears could symbolize such hurt. Or that talking it out or writing it out could symbolize such pain. I remember when I discovered writing it all out : Seventeen years old and my brother came to live with us for good (well until he was kicked out/moved out). I found writing could make me feel just a little better. It made the hurt real in some ways. Validated what I was feeling.

And now I'm trying to move on- to perhaps one of the healthiest expressions of emotion: crying.

11-9
Cause when you live in a world, well it gets into who you thought you'd be,
And now I laugh at how the world changed me,
I think life chose me after all...

Well�I have figured that having an 8 month old baby fall asleep on you�puts life in perspective. The miracle of life. Really helped tonight. First time he�s been left for any length of time, he�s still seriously nursing. And his mom nursed him before she left and he woke up a few hours later, and cried for a little while. Then�heh�I put on Dar Williams on my laptop with media player, and we walked a thousand laps around the center island thing in the kitchen until he fell fast asleep.

And then with Julia today�light of my life. She first frustrated me- really argumentative, more than usual, still not sure why. But slowly she started doing better and we ended on a good note. Then I gave her the �special surprise,� the signed Dar Williams CD�that kid totally loved it!! She has been so sweet and the past few days�called me sister. How fucking cool is that. She has so overcome her autism.

And if she can overcome her autism, to become ahead in school�know what love is and learn to love someone who once was a stranger�and has worked her so hard�and to have to go to school all day then do 2-4 hours of therapy AFTER school�holy fuck�of COURSE we CAN get help. To know what that kid has overcome, how hard she has worked (and she is ONLY SIX years old), without even really knowing why�shit�that is just amazing�and that is what gives me the hope always.

And for the first time in my life�I had people catch me before I fell- both my Dad and Bobb...others. I didn�t fall totally this time�I had ONE angry rant�and that was it. And I�m still baffled by it�I still don�t understand it. Like�last year- this would have been either suicidal ideation or a hospital visit easy. And now�it was like a day and a half of feeling bad�and then it was down to business to fixing everything. And it hit me- I see the end of this problem. Yeah, a bunch of stuff in the way- but still, I sensed a solution, and it wasn�t death, depression or a slew of bad days. Even though I had these huge things weighing down on me�I realized the choices I have�and the ones I didn�t make but should have. I hid a lot of problems from people who could have helped me (but yeah, didn�t put trust into that until now). If I had been truthful and honest sooner about the depth of my car trouble�I could have gotten help earlier. And yes, I do take responsibility for that. But accepting that kind of responsibility doesn�t mean I sit here and let CD�s (cognitive distortions) over come me�no�I can now make choices that will help me. Making budgets, finally getting everything car related in order and not just trying to get by. Swallowing my pride and asking for help.

This is a lot I have never done�but I still can�t get over�the fact that I didn�t fall. I stood and weathered the storm. And yeah, I�m still probably way scared shitless�but I see solutions�and roadblocks�but not darkness. And�I didn�t really have a Dad for a lot of years�and I never knew what unconditional love was. But a year and a half ago, when my father walked back into my life�well�I learned the meaning of the word family, and love�and definitely forgiveness. And I�m forever indebted to him for that.

I wrote a letter the other day, I might post it- a letter to my mom that I�ll never send. I�ve been told over and over to do this, but thought it was pointless. But in the depths of my sadness, I did it�and felt strangely better and I�m not sure why. I seriously doubt she�ll ever see it, but it just felt good. I still don�t understand sadness�but I know when I feel on the verge all the time, something must be happening. Though I�m still pissed that I can�t cry.

But yeah�just�wow, things are really different. As Bobb pointed out�I had like one bad day in the middle of a bunch of good ones. It used to be one good day in the middle of a bunch of bad ones. Something must be going right. And I think a part of my old self still lingers- she is dying, but when stress reaches a max, she can still come out to play. But hey, I can stand once in a while�as long as mostly the real me is alive and kickin.

Okay, so I might as well cancel all the rest of my therapy appointments. There is no way I can afford them. Or meds, or my psychiatrist, or anything else for that matter. This is what is wrong with our country- the people that need medical care can't fuckin afford it.

DMV has slapped me with a couple things, and so has the college, so now I'm so far in the hole I don't know what to do anymore. They want my money so I can drive, but I can't afford it. And I need to drive to work, to afford the stuff they need.

I went to get my mail and I'm in over my head and I don't know what to do. And I'm just so damn tired of things not being fair. Why can't for once things just be okay...why do I always have to struggle. I give up, I freakin give up.

I do one good thing and then...I get reinforced by ten bad things. I don't get it. It's like I can't do enough good things. Never enough. I'm never good enough and I can't ever do enough to please this world. So what is the point in even trying. Why do I run myself ragged for my kids, trying to heal them, why do I spend hours on my support group when half of them...yeah....and am I really making a difference? Why do I live when nothing is ever good enough. I remove one road block...and in comes another...forget some day...if I'm living in the here and now...then there is nothing.

I just don't know anymore...time to go find a cave and hang out there...because I've realized....

I just don't belong in this world, this reality.

So yeah, who knows when you'll see me next.

11-7
So tired of hearing about mom�s�and ugh. Like so stuff on TV dedicated to mom�s� I see TV shows where the mom�s are revered and are wonderful and great and are caring and understanding. It makes me sick. I pick up the phone and it�s my mom on the phone and she just makes me so mad. From really not caring and pretending like she never abused me. And thinks she helped me to get where I am. My mom did nothing to help me get here. In fact�she helped put up road blocks the whole time.

She�she didn�t f*cking protect me when I was a little innocent child. She let others take that innocence from me- she allowed people to�abuse me. If she wasn�t taking her own hand to me, then she was allowing my brother to. Or worse�allowing my cousin to take me to a darkened room. Or before when I know something happened when I was six. Or a bf at 15. She yelled and humiliated me. She took my worth from me and made me believe I was nothing in this world.

And I pick up the phone and hear her complain, hear her say, �oh I wish I didn�t have to do everything for everyone.� She only does something if it helps herself. And I hear her talk about my brothers and it breaks my heart because they are suffering. Or I hear her talk about when I was a kid�she was trying to convince me that she helped me with my homework when I was little because I had too much to do myself. And I know I can�t take that as face value. Though, I remember very little of my childhood, bits and pieces and photographs really, due to the trauma yippee. But being the researcher that I am, I have evidence to the contrary, because the bits and pieces I remember she is not present in that capacity. And also� I was in a Talented and Gifted program�and I got myself there, it�s not like she could have done the work for me. I had to perform at that level without outside help or I wouldn�t have been able to sustain that status for all of elementary school. So that is just more evidence of lies.

She wants to take my worth from me again. Believe that it was her that got me here, when in reality she had nothing to do with how great of a person I turned out to be. Other than give me abusive experience so I can relate to everyone.

So I am sick and freakin tired of hearing about how great mothers are. Because there is a whole population of people who never got that and it just hurts more. How about celebrating people as individuals and the people that made it in this world despite knowing the horrors life can bring. Parents are not everything, very often they are crap. And sometimes I just get so angry that they get so much attention and yet there is a ton of people out there who are �orphans,� maybe not physically, but certainly emotionally.

And yet�at the end of the day�I just want a parent to hold me�to tell me it�s okay even when it�s not. Because I want to feel that kind of love and understanding. That unconditional love�because no one, other than my parent will be able to provide that kind of love because I know everyone leaves eventually, or could at any moment.

And in my dark moments I want to be able to pick up the phone and cry, or tell someone my story�and know they would be there for me. And to feel loved. To feel not alone here in this world. And to be loved for who I am�for me. A broken little girl who turned into just a woman trying to make a difference in this world.

But I just want that love�is that too much to ask? It begs the question of why- though I know that can never be answered. I was given what I was given�but I don�t freakin know how to grieve, I don�t know how to cry, and I don�t know how to fill this emptiness inside.

Especially�when I see such love around me- how parents love their children so. Or when I�m around people�and they do care for me and do not judge me- and I don�t understand how all these people can like me when I�m rejected by my own parents.

My mom has no idea what I do with my life. She has no idea about this support group or website- or the magazine articles I�ve been interviewed for or the TV report. She knows I am about to be published for my research�but I doubt she wants to read it or discuss it because it is on self injury. Next week, I have a meeting with the Dean of Student Life, the Dean of the school and the head of the Psych Services along with my prof Sam�to discuss the growing problems on campus, that was discovered by my research. She doesn�t really comprehend the differences I make with the children I work with.

But most of all�she doesn�t understand me or know who I am. And she�ll never understand or really want to know. Because part of me is my past- and that is a dark, dark place�of which she pretends doesn�t exist. And because she does not acknowledge that part of me, she�ll never know me. She will never love me.

Part of me wants to get into old habits and say�well if my own parents don�t love me, then how can other people love me. But I know that isn�t true. As much as I hurt, as much sadness and anger I hold inside�her love does not dictate the love others may have for me. Her leaving me does not automatically mean others will leave. Her judgments do not reflect the judgments of others.

But what I don�t understand is the hurt. I am completely independent except for my brothers and yet I can still sit her in pain, wanting so badly to cry. Why can she still hurt me? And how can I let go of that. This is so a topic for therapy next week. As much as I know and understand, I can�t grasp this. And I don�t know how to rectify this. The pain is so immense. And I can�t even confront her, I can�t talk to her- I can do nothing but accept her as she is. But that does not mean it hurts any less. So then�what do you do with that hurt?? That is what I want to know.

Funny, the lyrics,
�And the best ones were the ones I got to keep as I grew strong,
And the days that opened up until my whole life could belong,
And now I'm getting the answers, when I don't need them anymore,
I'm finding the pictures, and I finally know what I kept them for,
I remember, I can see them, see them smiling, see them stuck,
See them try, I wish them luck and all the blessings."

�It�s not a release, not a reward, it�s the blessings,
It�s the gift of what you notice more�

just came on. I notice this whole in me that I can�t seem to shake. Especially on nights like these. I am still glad I am living and that I am getting out of living my life in crisis mode�but that now means there is more time to hurt�now I remember why I lived in crisis mode. Then I could escape the real sadness. But now�I know I don�t need to or want to. This isn�t going away, I need to face it.

So there you have it�I�m a woman right now, just a woman that hurts so much and no one even knows. I smile�and more days than not I mean that smile. But sometimes I get tried of�being strong, healing�and having good days. Because I still have the flashbacks, I still remember some abuse�I�m still an orphan for the most part. So tell me�who can fix that? Guess the ADD in me is making me impatient. I want to cry�I want to grieve- but I can�t go near it. I want to scream at the top of the world- all the secrets I�ve kept hidden- I want HER to know what she did�and then burn in hell for it. (No, I�m not bitter). But no, no one can give me that, I can�t do that�and so I still suffer in silence�and I�m tired of it.

Okay I better end this before I really get fuckin upset.

11-1
Another thing for my message board Second Chances:
I was walking to a friends place tonight and thinking about SC and the members and whatnot. And what made SC so successful. And also what makes my therapy with Bobb so successful. SC gives people something to believe in. Just as Bobb has given me something to believe in. If you think about it, what better to lift us out of depression and on to the healing path. Depression gives us nothing. It takes from us- takes our energy, our sleep, what we love...and most importantly, and above all else: Depression takes away our will to live. It takes away our belief in everything. And that is where SC or therapy comes in.

I use Bobb as an example. When I came to her, I believed in nothing- other than my own misery and anger and sadness. Then slowly but surely she shattered the illusions depression had put in front of me. And I crashed because it occurred to me that I believed nothing but depression and its destructive nature. But through those dark times she offered me the belief in hope...she offered a trust in her and a belief in living. Soon, I believed in her and her healing ways. I believed in hope. I believed in healing. I believed in taking her hand and following the healing path. I began to believe in something...and that helped in all area's of my life. Allowed me to believe in others, like the children I work with and you all here. I was finally given something to believe in and something incredible happened: I believed in myself. And that is something NO ONE can take away.

And so I thought about SC and the direction I've been taking this board...this family. I read some posts and emails and what some people had said about how they have held on and lived because of this place or the members here. SC has given people something to believe in. How wonderful is that? Because when you have something more than depression to believe in...so much is possible.

We believe in you. Each and every one of you. No matter where you came from...what you are facing, we believe in you. And that you can find the healing path. Because we can heal. No matter how this world has treated us or the cards we've been dealt- we can choose to heal. We can believe in something...we can believe in ourselves. We have so much strength and hope and courage inside of us. And NOTHING can take that away from us, not even depression.

Take SC's hand...trust us...lean on us for support. Come here and find belief- that you can and will heal. This power of belief is so incredible. It remains why I am here today. As my favorite kiddo Julia sings, "I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly/ I'll do what it takes til' I touch the sky/ I'll make a wish/ Take a chance/ Make a change/ And breakaway/ Out of the darkness and into the sun/ But I won't forget all the ones that I loved/ I'll take a risk/ Take a chance/ Make a change/ And breakaway"
I took a chance, I believed in healing and it's changed my life.

-The Great Believer