“I’m so thankful that experience happened to you, and not me,” is the thought process of most people that happen upon my story.
You know why we don’t want to talk about our stories? The fear of discovering our truest self.
Our experiences define parts of us, not all of us.
I am all too often now categorized as “one of those people.” You know, the abused traumatized kind.
I’m okay with that.
You know why?
I know who I am. I know what pain is and I don’t shy away from a good bout of suffering if it is the thing that will get me to other side of the experience.
If you don’t know your story and share it, who knows you? Does anyone see your pain? Do you see your pain?
When pain is excluded from view, it’s one of the worst travesties we can do to ourselves.
Silent suffering is a killer. It causes grief beyond repair, cancers, diseases and all types of unrest.
I’d encourage you to get in touch with yourself. Honor the strength it took to endure the abuse of other people. Stay decent and humble in all circumstances.
And, for the love of God, stop all the dog gone judging that goes on. Just stop! You are no better than the next guy – and, when you truly look down on your brother or sister, there is no goodness in that.
I’m proud to be “one of those people.” It means I can help.
