Throughout the years I truly had believed that I had overcome my past.  That the pain of my childhood no longer had control over me and the wounds had long been healed.  I look in the mirror today and realize that I could not be more wrong.  Watching a Dr. Phil show and sharing his guests experiences I know that my wounds are not only open they are infected with such raw emotion that I feel as if I am a child.

I cry in private.  Supresssing my pain from my husband. Not knowing how he would handle the fact of knowing his strong wife is actually weak and crumbling as the days go by.  How would he feel seeing a grown woman weeping so fiercely over her experiences from such years ago?  Would showing my raw emotion to him weaken his opinion of me?  Would he feel safe fathering my children?  Would he lose confidence in our marriage?  Would he treat me as he once did.....with a colder heart?

So many unanswered questions.  So many fears.  Thoughts that would scare any psychologist.  Dreams and nightmares that would make the strongest person shake in their shoes.  Emotions that would make the strongest man lay in the fetal position while he sucks his thumb.

Whom can I tell?  No one.  My sisters would understand as they too feel what I feel.  I can't talk with them any more as I know it isn't healthy.  We go round and round in circles.  Just crying and never really healing.  Telling them how I feel doesn't help them.  Talking about it together just makes it more real and raw.  Makes it worse.

Here I am.  Putting it in my journal.  Why not start a notebook?  Write my thoughts?  For simple reasons...typing is so much easier. :)  My handwriting gets sloppy the longer I write.  My OCD presents a huge problem when it comes to writing mistakes....delete button works so much better!  Here I go....

30 years of pain....30 years of lonliness, always trying to be what others wish me to be.   A shadow among those I love.  All I am now is a woman who loves so deeply many others just not herself.  I eat my feelings so frequently that my pant size changes at least 2 sizes a month (up or down).  I feel alone even when in a room full of people.  Maybe if I write my emotions I can begin to heal and actually be who God has destined me to be...more than I am now.

Let me start from the beginning....