Sometimes to see where we’re going, we need to know where we’ve been. As many facets there may be to a gem, there are so many more to each of us. Each connected to all the others; each one part of the whole. Each catching the sunlight and reflecting its brilliance to the world, even the ones that get a little scuffed along the way.

My childhood was as nice as anyone could ask. Parents, two younger siblings, house in the suburbs with a big backyard. Sandbox, swing set and trees to climb and hide within. I’m the leader, the one who makes sure everyone is safe and has what they need and eventually Chief Button Pusher…Stomper really.

Middle school came and so did a whole new world of things to get into. Typical stupid preteen. Parents couldn’t possibly figure out my plans and my feeble excuses surely sounded legitimate. The fact that I got in trouble, grounded for a month, out for a few days, grounded for a month – rinse and repeat – belies that truth for the wish it was. I did, however, learn to cook, clean and do laundry during my frequent incarcerations which continue to serve me well.

It was at this time I discovered what Molly Carpenter (Jim Butcher, The Dresden Files) once said was the power of “The Rack.” While some girls started getting “gift cards”, I quickly developed full blown gifts. Needless to say, I got a lot of attention. Unfortunately, at age 14 I attracted the attention of an older kid who was the antithesis of good boyfriend material. It took four years, all four years of high school and two or three burly police officers, to get rid of him. He touched and hurt every part of me, even the parts I didn’t know I had. Mental health wasn’t talked about then. I dove into school getting good grades, except math and science where I struggled. I was deeply involved in performing arts where I found a way to express myself, good and bad, and some place safe to spend time.

Outside of school everything was going horribly wrong. He would call all the time and want to meet. Would threaten me with worse than had been done previously and when that no longer worked, threatened to do the same to my younger sister if I didn’t comply. I was still fiercely protective of her and, after all, it was my fault I was in this spot not hers. I was also still messing up with the normal stupid kid stuff and still in trouble, mostly with my mother. There were a few times where punishments became very physical and my father would just stand by and watch. He’d always admonish me not to make her angry. Even the 6’4″ tall tough guy was afraid of the 5’4″ bipolar crazy, so much so he’d protect himself rather than his child. Thanks big guy.

Yes, I’ve spent a LOT of time in therapy (still am) working through all this and can’t recommend it enough for anyone struggling with anything.

The last two years of high school I did try on several occasions to get out of this mess, permanently, but obviously did not succeed for which I am grateful. It truly is a permanent solution to temporary, albeit horrible, problems.

Two trips to the hospital and the last finally gave things away. I was hurt so badly and was only seventeen so the parents were called to pick me up. The screaming at the hospital was horrible, thankfully I’ve blocked most of it out. The ride home was exhausting, the only conversation was my mother saying, “What do you want us to do, you probably asked for it” and me replying that I wanted to go on birth control. The decision to hide this from them for all those years was proven correct. Premarital sex and drugs was an instant kicked-out-of-the-house punishment.

I finished high school with a brand new shiny, GOOD boyfriend who I eventually married and we had kids. The marriage was good for the longest time but fell apart around year twenty-five and ended in a very amicable divorce. Despite it being amicable, I lost all but two people as friends and lost my ex’s immediate family as I was now persona non grata. Well, better to find out who is and is not part of your tribe even if it takes literally half your lifetime.

I relocated several states away and have been blessed beyond measure with a new family-by-choice, my kids have also settled in different states and yet we couldn’t be closer. My new tribe is much smaller but so much more in every way that counts!

Short, sweet and very tidy, right?

Sure sounds that way but it took more strength than I thought I could ever muster, more tears than I thought I could ever cry and the determination to move every mountain that was put in my path and damn if there weren’t a lot of them. I journal, dive into music, sit in my car and turn up the music and sing as loud as I can. I’ve going to a park in the middle of the night to scream and cry, leaving hoarse, black-eyed and utterly empty inside. Endured pain I didn’t think I could, learned to dissociate when I could not. Walked miles each week plugged into Pink, Lady Gaga and others, sometimes stomping and nearly running down the path rather than walking.

I am still here. I made it (to this point anyway) and plan to continue on. With the support of family and an outstanding therapist, “better living by chemistry” and pure dint of will (I’m stubborn) I will continue on the path I’ve been set. I will do my best to wring every bit of love and enjoyment from it, grow to be the best version of myself and, God and Gods willing, leave it even a slightly better place than when I found it.