There are parts of my story that I may never post to the interwebs for all of the world to read. There are moments in my history that have caused the scars I sometimes notice on my heart. Most of the time, I forget they're there, but there are those days when I remember. When I remember how I got them, and how far Father has brought me.
I've always been the "pick yourself up by your bootstraps kind of girl," mostly because I was forced to be. I would experience trauma and move forward without truly feeling the weight of the blow. Then before I knew it, a new trauma would occur. It was like an unending cycle. I just had to keep moving forward, it's how I survived all those years.
Right after I married my husband, I came to the realization that everyone didn't live that way. I was constantly waiting for the bottom to drop out and dazed from shock. I was safe and I started to grieve. It was hard, very hard. And painful, so painful. But I slowly started to heal and those open wounds began healing and eventually became scars.Read More