Maybe that’s how it happens. Not a slow soft burn that gently fades out. Maybe it’s like one moment playing with dolls in a tent in the backyard and the next sneaking cigarettes in the dark with friends. Where once confident and unstoppable becomes a hollow shell of fear and self-doubt. Maybe that’s how it happens. Suddenly… and all at once.

Then you’re 30 and processing that you haven’t slept through the night since you were 16. Not because of the drug dealers, the guns held to your head, the abuse, overdoses, or car accidents. Those just give you nightmares. No, you don’t sleep because the system that was supposed to help you heal broke you instead. 

I don’t ever know where to start when telling my story. It’s long and convoluted and to be completely honest, I don’t remember a lot of what happened to me. There are strong bits and pieces from before my 81 days in hell. Mostly I remember bits of joy, specific memories, feelings, and every ounce of trauma.

The smartest way to approach this would probably be chronologically but we’re going to wing these posts because they are incredibly hard for me to do and I’m going to give them in small doses with trigger warnings.

So let’s get started…

Next week 😉