WordPress emailed me a couple days ago.
“Congratulations, today is your 1 year blogging anniversary!”
I scrolled through my blog back to my first post.
“My Story,” posted September 4, 2017.
I remember this post and more importantly, I remember exactly how I felt when I wrote it.
I was nervous, scared and angry.
Even though none of it was new to me, putting my pain and trauma into words made it real.
There was no denying it anymore.
“What the hell was my life,” I remember thinking.
When I experienced sexual abuse as a child, I was told to hide it and that if I told anyone I would get in big trouble.
And now here I was doing the opposite, sharing for all the world to see.
“What did I just do?” I remembered thinking after I hit “Post.”
I posted it because I wanted to bring awareness to how common sexual abuse is.
I wanted people struggling with an abusive past know they are not alone.
But, I also wanted to hit “Delete” because I was terrified inside.
My post was vulnerable and angry.
I didn’t want friends and loved ones to read it.
I thought it would scare them away.
Or, have them think less of me.
Or even worse, feel obligated to help me.
“I should delete it,” I thought.
But that was the fear talking again.
So instead, I slammed the lid of my computer down.
Once I did, it was like my emotions came flooding the the surface and I broke down.
I didn’t want Rob to see me breakdown, so I hid in the shower and cried.
Since that day, I haven’t been able to get myself to read or even look at “My Story.”
I’ve been too afraid.
The thought of reading it again makes my stomach turn.
But once I got the email, I decided to go back and read it.
It wasn’t fun.
My heart was pounding in fear and my breathing was getting shallow.
I felt so tense.
Reading “My Story” was taking me back to the dark days.
When suicide and driving off cliffs were daily thoughts.
Even though “My Story” talks about depression and suicide in a past tense,
I was still very much depressed and had no zest for life a year ago.
It was this time last year that I hated myself and hated life.
It was this time last year that I was so depressed, I couldn’t see the point in getting out of bed.
It was this time last year that I hoped life would soon end on it’s own, because as badly as I wanted it to end, I was too afraid to end it myself.
It was scary to see where I was mentally and emotionally a year ago.
But it has allowed me to see how far I’ve come.
And, I’m proud to say that I’m no longer depressed.
Suicide isn’t a thought.
I want to get out of bed now.
I want to live life.
And, I’m experiencing more happy days and less bad days.
The more I write, the more I address my pain, and the more I share and seek help from others…
The more I heal.
While I still carry sadness and HATE, the sadness and HATE no longer consume me.
“My Story” still stings, but it no longer controls me.
I am in control.
And I now control what and how I react.
When I’m having a bad day, I’ll acknowledge it and then do my best to turn it around.
When I find myself feeling angry or sad, I’ll feel the anger and sadness, but I don’t dwell on it.
It’s been a non-stop conscious effort this past year.
But the more I do it, the easier and the more natural it becomes.
If you would have told me this time last year that I would still have this blog,
I wouldn’t have believed it.
I was so scared when I started that I didn’t think I would keep going.
Writing and sharing has been therapeutic for me.
Every time I write, every time I hit post, it’s like a little piece of my pain goes with it.
It’s been an emotional year.
I’ve reached levels of anger and hate that I didn’t think were possible.
And I’ve reached levels of happiness that I didn’t know existed.
It’s been a journey, not always an easy one, but all-in-all it’s been a good one.
Because the depressed suicidal person who started this blog, no longer exists.