Pumpkin.

I used to always carve pumpkins with my mom. It makes me feel kind of sad, but I still like to do it. I did roast the seeds and they were good.

drawing in progress.

Holiday.

My therapist is out of town right now. When he went on vacation recently I had a mild 'shut-down' and basically stayed home for the entire time that he was away. I talked to him about it when he returned, he and my art therapist talked about him going away for 2 weeks to this conference and we all made a plan that I would meet with my art therapist while he was gone this time and I would try to avoid a 'shut-down'. Ok, well, that has not totally worked out as planned. I have sort of done the same thing. I have not left the house in... a while. Today I took a bath for the first time in what I will call 'several' days... and then I put my pajamas right back on. And I do not mean: I took a bath and put on a new pair of pajamas- no... that would be a certain kind of depressed- but I am talking about the kind of depressed where one does not shower for several days and then finally (mostly out of shame) takes a bath AND PUTS THE SAME PAJAMAS BACK ON.

Those should be two whole categories of depression: The depression where you shower and get dressed and then ignore a plan to go out and get back into bed and the depression where you shower, pick up the clothes off the bathroom floor, put them back on and crawl back into bed.

Anyway- I have been feeling pretty bad. And I have been trying to think, "What am I going to do to feel better?"

And then my mind just blanks.

I know what would help me and I am watching myself not do many of those things. I am drawing a little and reading a lot online. This healing is so painful and I keep wanting to take a 'break' from moving closer to the truth but there really is not a way to do that- and in some ways, I am glad about it. But parts of me do feel like: There are a lot of things that are too hard and scary to face right now. I think it is fine how I have spent the week- it has not been great, I do not feel like I have been doing all the things I want to do- but I have been scared and I think I have been trying to take care of myself the best I can. My doctor will be back in town on Tuesday and I will see him Thursday. I am looking forward to that.

And I have not hurt myself- I have spent a lot of time thinking about it- but I never hurt myself. And I am going to try to move forward more now even though I am scared.

Tomorrow I am going to kick off the holiday by taking out a little rage on my Halloween pumpkin. As a person with 'cutting issues'- I have to say- pumpkin carving is very satisfying to me. And I have never done it before but I plan to try to roast the seeds tomorrow too.

And does this man need a Halloween costume? Or is he just... ready-wear?

Down.

On a day when I feel really bad- this made me feel a little better.

Pen and ink with water from my head on torn bed sheet.

Today I feel.

Today I feel like a huge failure. And I feel a lot of sadness. I did not go to my art therapy group. I stayed home and felt sad. Then I looked at art videos and drawings online.

Here is a good Art21 video about PLAY.

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek. Joseph Campbell

Line from memory to heart to brain & belly.

I told myself I would write here today about the 'big realization' I had about food and my 'disordered eating' this morning... but it seems too painful... I do not want to do it. But I have also been learning recently that my fear of talking about painful things... it is like a way that my mind keeps me held back.... which was useful when I was trying to survive my father and now it takes away from my ability to fully experience life. So I will just try to write something about what I realized this morning... even if it is messy, perhaps not very well organized and painful to think about.

This morning I had two pieces of bread with butter for breakfast and I was eating them and trying to feel present... I mean: I have to make a conscious decision to actually taste my food as I eat it. My mind/body/head/mouth are so disconnected from years of needing them to be disconnected so that I could survive and not know about all of the horrible things that were happening to my body... anyway- now I literally have to focus, get myself in my body and BE PRESENT so I can actually taste food as I eat it. So I ate the two pieces of bread with butter and as I was finishing the second piece I felt a feeling of panic that I have felt thousands of times... and usually it is just a sort of nameless panic- there is just panic, I mean- and I have never stopped or been able or willing to stop and ask 'Why do I feel panicked when I am almost done eating?". But then I am sure the answer to that will unlock the other painful question of: What pushes me to keep eating, over-eat, binge, make myself sick, etc. Anyway- I was almost done eating and I felt panicked and I sort of paused for a minute and thought, "Why?". And I immediately thought: What if I am never loved again? That was my thought. My therapy lately and my conversations with friends too, have been a lot about realizing that my parents did not really love me. They said they did- but they did not really. And this has been an INCREDIBLY PAINFUL IDEA TO THINK ABOUT. And long story shortened: I think I have used food for a very long time as a kind of replacement for love. I have wanted to comfort myself, to feel 'full' and to cover hard feelings- and I have used food to try to help me with all of those things. But, of course, it has not worked. My 'struggle with food' has been huge. It has been like an enormous art performance piece about how much I hurt, how much I have had to make myself hurt so I could keep myself from knowing about when I really was hurt, the list goes on and on.

I am trying to work hard, trying to let myself have my drawing, my thoughts, my body. I am SICK OF SUFFERING and I am even more sick of trying to fight off the truth and pretend the horrors of my past did not happen. It is PAINFUL to have to remember the old pain, but it is better to have to keep reminding myself everyday that it is in fact OLD PAIN. And that I am safe now. And that I have my mind and body and art and friends and I am loved, now.

Recovering from abuse is difficult and painful. But it is a relief to finally start to be honest about the past and then I can at least remind myself over and over and over that: THE ABUSE HAPPENED A LONG TIME AGO AND IT IS OVER NOW AND I AM SAFE NOW.

Tiny dancing.

The work to recover from child sexual abuse is enormous. And that feels like an understatement. It has taken me six years of therapy to even start to realize I REALLY AM going to recover. I mean... I think it is hard to imagine ever really feeling better if you have never really felt safe before. But now I am starting to really recover... and everyday is still a struggle- but in a different way than before. And while the days are still painful... they are less painful than before. Or at least... painful in a very different way. A lot of the struggle now is about realizing that I AM SAFE NOW and that I CAN BE HAPPY. These are painful things to really know and experience though, because they make the past and the horror of the past and all of the 'not safe' and 'very not happy' feelings and memories more clear.

Last night I was laying in bed and I suddenly wondered if I would listen to my stereo more if I moved it right next to my bed. So today I finally did that. I put my stereo right next to my bed and all of my favorite stuffed animal toys there too. Now I have my stereo on and I am finally able to listen to classical music.

I wish the healing would go FASTER. But then, sometimes, I feel like I AM going fast. I do not think it would be possible to feel better TOO SOON.... but sometimes I get overwhelmed and I have to take a step back... like feeling too much freedom makes me know about too many painful old feelings and I just want to shut down. One of the difficult things is that I am not able to totally 'shut down' like I used to. This is sort of a mixed blessing, I guess. I mean: I know it means I am getting better- but it is also painful. It is like wanting to turn the volume down on life... BUT THERE IS NO VOLUME KNOB.

Today I spent a long time looking at things online; art, news, other blogs. Here are two things I found online today that I like a lot: The Metropolitan Museum of Art collection database and this... Yoko Ono on Twitter.

I feel like for a long time I have been taking small steps towards getting better. But as I sit here with the classical radio station playing very quietly next to me... I realize I like to think of my progress not as 'baby steps'- it feels more like tiny dancing.

FUCK YOU.

I am going through a HUGE MAD PHASE of my recovery.

I AM SO FURIOUS that I have spent so many years hating and hurting myself because I was hurt so much and could not tolerate knowing about the real abuse.

Tonight I am putting on a costume and going to a party. And dancing.

Fuck you Abuser. I AM BREAKING UP WITH YOUR BULLSHIT EVERYDAY NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Day rolls into night, rolls into morning and I scream.

Here is a message from Jessieh to Lloyd.

Today I spoke to my art therapist about things I can do to feel better when I wake in the morning....

Everyday is Halloween (in my head).

Large drawing in progress.

Fancy materials.

For my Lovely.

The Speaker

by Louis Jenkins

The speaker points out that we don't really have much of
a grasp of things, not only the big things, the important
questions, but the small everyday things. "How many steps
up to your front door? What kind of tree grows in your
backyard? What is the name of your district representative?
What is your wife's shoe size? Can you tell me the color of your
sweetheart's eyes? Do you remember where you parked
the car?" The evidence is overwhelming. Most of us never
truly experience life. "We drift through life in a daydream,
missing the true richness and joy that life has to offer." When
the speaker has finished we gather around to sing a few
inspirational songs. You and I stand at the back of the group
and hum along since we have forgotten most of the words.

great pumpkin (and poem)

Patience

by Kay Ryan

Patience is
wider than one
once envisioned,
with ribbons
of rivers
and distant
ranges and
tasks undertaken
and finished
with modest
relish by
natives in their
native dress.
Who would
have guessed
it possible
that waiting
is sustainable—
a place with
its own harvests.
Or that in
time's fullness
the diamonds
of patience
couldn't be
distinguished
from the genuine
in brilliance
or hardness.

Part of an email from my therapist:

"When somebody is oppressed, then the memory of it lingers. The challenge is to be able to grieve it fully, and then to live in the world as it is, and if we don’t like how it is, then to work to change it." -Dr. C

i do not want to talk about it (sort of)

email to Jessieh. "Please do not brush my fur in the backwards direction."

Hi Jessieh this is Lloyd. I was thinking about starting a blog. Maybe I should start with my own email address first....

If I had a blog- what would I call it? "Lloyd Speaks"? "Lloydconstellation"? "Mr. Fuzzy Bunny Wonderfulness"? "The blog where two adult women recovering from DID express the abused child part of their ways of being through the funny and outrageously soft and silly cat that is Lloyd"?

Do you think that last title is too long?

If I wrote a book about myself.... what do you think it should be about? This is the book idea I have had for a while now: It would be about how I sleep all day and my 'owner' (Jenny) thinks that I am really really lazy... because I sleep ALL DAY and also eat a lot and then sleep more. But then at night, when Jenny is sleeping, I go out and work a lot of different jobs. Like driving a fish delivery truck in the night, delivering blankets to homeless people and ok, sometimes just going out to play card games with other cats in the neighborhood. But while we are playing card games we could also be planning projects.... like how to help homeless cats or people.

Maybe Jenny should start to research how to do a children's book. Maybe she could help me find out what I would need to do to get it published.

Can you write me back at Jenny's email address and just put "TO LlOYD" in the subject line? I will tell Jenny you will be writing when you get the time and I will ask her not to open our correspondence.

By the way, have you seen this website: http://icanhascheezburger.com ? Jenny thinks it is kind of funny and I am glad it gives her a laugh, but I find it really insulting. Many cats I know have far better language skills than the average human being.

Also, there was an interesting article in the paper this morning about a woman who won the nobel prize for science. It is for work she is doing involving DNA. When she got the call saying that she had been given the award, she was folding laundry. The article was a lot about how not very many women have been given the award for science and about the how the entire 'world of science' is 'mostly for men' (I am paraphrasing here, obviously). The article ended with a line about how when she heard that Obama had been given the award too, she thought something like, "I bet he was not folding laundry when he got his phone call." I thought that was both funny but mostly such a good commentary about how women are still regarded with such a low level of consideration in today's society. One has to wonder how the world might be if women were treated with more equality. If that scientist had someone to do her laundry and cook her meals, would she have already worked out another major contribution to the world of science?

It is startling and painful to realize how many woman and children probably never have a chance to do or make the things that they could create.... Sorry- my thoughts are drifting. I was starting to go off on a philosophical bender there, but I suddenly feel like I really need a nap.

I love you Jessieh.

Always your Mr. Fuzzy Bunny Wonderfulness,

Lloyd

p.s.- Have you talked to Jenny recently? I think she is having some sort of therapy breakthrough...

Quote:

"The very greatest mystery is in unsheathed reality itself." Eudora Welty

Mitten knitter.

It took a lot not to put for the title: Sodomy and mittens.

I feel sick. I am trying to just go on... this afternoon starting to knit a pair of mittens that I will felt and use for biking.

But I feel sick. My therapy today was an extension of the conversation from last Thursday which I still have not been able to write about here and the thought of all of it has me crying too much to type. So I am going to let that be my excuse for not explaining more here right now.

I saw a sign that read: THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE. BUT FIRST IT WILL MAKE YOU MISERABLE.

Amen.

Black.

I am still unable to write about what happened in my therapy session on Thursday. I keep hearing in my mind a single word that was used during the session. sodomize

Upside down house.

Today I had a very painful therapy session. I want to write about it... but it feels impossible.

I will write about it as soon as I am able. Here is a little video...

What where when why how... WHO?

It is raining here today. And that would be a good excuse to not go to therapy. It has been raining hard since I got up and I spent the morning doing things around the house while thinking: I DO NOT WANT TO GO TO THERAPY! It is cold! And raining! And I have a cold and my nose is running! Lol. It does not matter that it is raining out, of course. In my head it is always *(often) raining. There is always *(often) SOME REASON I can invent for why it is much much much too hard to get to therapy. The distance, the biking the walking, the rain, a small cold. The list goes on and on. The woman I rent a room from knows that I have therapy today and she said I could use her car to go to my appointment. Hm. I was happy about that for about 5 seconds. It is so much better when I can go on about the 'more than a mile' walk, the biking, the bus, the rain , the cold....

Oh I bet traffic is going to be a bitch today. ;-)

Beneath the surface, little-noticed but fundamental changes are taking place that must compel both sides, nolens volens, sooner or later to reconfigure their tortured but inseparable relationship.

-- Bernard Wasserstein, Israelis and Palestinians

----.

Here is the drawing I made in my art therapy group today.

You can click the image to see it larger.

Right now I feel like I want to climb under a rock and hide.

Little orange cat little orange cat.

More than One. (One.)

I am having a really hard time writing on here lately. I have posted some videos that I like, more pictures here than usual and I just have no been writing a lot. That has been my way of saying: I am still here and alive... but it is difficult to write whilst having a "divided mind". FOR EXAMPLE... I WONDER... WHAT PART OF ME USES WORDS LIKE "WHILST"?????

I like to think that I am scared to write here about my daily experiences and what I am learning about my own mind now these days- BECAUSE I AM SCARED WHAT OTHER PEOPLE WILL THINK OR SAY IN COMMENTS....... But that is not the truth. I am scared of what I will think. I am basically scared of my own mind. I guess this was a good tactic for preventing myself from being very real and alive when I was trying to live in constant silence from my dad and his abuse. But now it keeps me from feeling and being real and from HAVING MY OWN REAL LIFE.

What? What was I writing? I just looked up a video of someone reading "Where the Wild Things Are" on YouTube, added the text: "And now," cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!" and watched some more of a very stupid tv show that is on.

I feel like I am WASTING A LOT OF MY TIME AND DAYS because I am scared. And I hate that I keep NOT drawing, NOT making art, NOT working harder on getting better.

Waves of association.

I want to write something here about how I am healing... but I am hurting so much it is hard to think of anything positive at this moment. It is painful to recover. It is not 'one step forward, two steps back' anymore. And it is not even a few steps forward and one back. My life right now is more like: A few running leaps forward... and then sitting down on the ground to cry. Biking miles and miles and miles and then sobbing. Heavy, doubled over while holding my stomach or chest and covering my mouth and wailing. Wailing.

Pain from the past hurts so bad I want to scream.

Update post...

Earlier today I wrote about being nervous about my therapy and very nervous about biking there. I just wanted to write here that I did get there and back just fine. Now I am typing this as Lloyd and Winston sleep next to me (and Lloyd is snoring). I got a flat tire on the way back and I was a little worried- because I have never changed one by myself before and also because it was starting to get dark. But I changed it and just as I was pumping up the tire another biker stopped and asked if I needed help and luckily he was able to get more air in the tire for me. I had been planning to go to the store, then come home and do laundry. But the flat tire made me feel a little anxious and my mind was just crying to JUST GET HOME!!! BUT I DIDN'T!!!!!!!!!!!!! I went to the store just like I had planned and then I cam home and ate dinner and did a load of laundry. Progress!!!!!!!! Wonderful wonderful wonderful progress.

HEALING IS NOT A UNICORN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hate Letter.

I am sick of being scared. I am not even sure exactly what I am so scared of anymore. I think it is really my own rage. I am terrified of being angry. When I was young and living in my atrociously abusive household, it was IMPOSSIBLE to EVER be angry. My father was angry all of the time and I lived my life just trying to survive that. There was never the possibility of being mad myself. On a 'good day'- my father was a violent bastard. If anyone else in the house ever tried to have ANY FEELING OR OPINION ABOUT ANYTHING... it was like putting your health and life in danger. So I grew up terrorized and with NO place to put my anger about what was happening and so mostly I just turned it inward and took it out on myself.

It is hard. It is hard to stop. It is hard to stop hating myself, hard to stop being scared, hard to let myself FEEL ANGER. But I AM SICK OF BEING CONTROLLED BY MY FEARS.

Today I have therapy and I have this broken record in my brain about my fear of biking there. I hear it. I get it. And I am going to ride there anyway. Every time I go I have difficulty imagining that I will get there and back and be fine- BUT I ALWAYS DO. AND I ALWAYS LOVE BEING ON MY BIKE. So... I just really want to type this here: FUCK YOU FEAR. I AM BREAKING UP WITH YOU NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This therapy work, this work of recovering- it feels absolutely impossible most days. But after six years of hard work I am finally starting to heal and damn it, it is SO DIFFICULT... but I have to retrain my brain. I will be fine on my bike, my therapy will help me. NOTHING BAD IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME TODAY. The worst things I could imagine have already happened.

And I survived the hell. And now the hell is over and I am an artist and a biker and a lot of other things and I still feel fear, but I am going to work everyday to let go of it.

Getting ready.

Guest Post by Jessieh

Dear Jenny(s),

I realize this may come as no surprise to you but I also realize that it quite possibly could. It is officially your birthday. For reasons that can go without stating (for obvious reasons) birthdays are, like many normal life experiences, quite painful. This is not fair. We are going to live full, fun and completely astonishing lives despite the fact that things have not and will never be fair. Today is a day of grief for several, if not many parts of you. I do not mean to minimize this fact or try and offer some forced cheer. I want to merely suggest something else: Today is a day to celebrate being fully alive.

Today cannot be taken away from you ever again. Today, you can be anything and anyone you desire to be. You can do anything you want to do. You can live today without fear and without worry.

You are beautiful. You are strong. You are loved in more ways than you will ever know.

And because (for an even more obvious reason) we could not decide how we should celebrate today, we have these things to offer:

First: A Birthday Song

Happy Birthday by the Innocence Mission

When you wake up sun will shine.
We will not go under any cloud.
Let balloons go up in town,
ring out every bell.
Happy birthday, beautiful,
all the birds of this day
sing a song, sing a song.

Dream of trains carrying you
through the state parks with the cherry flowers.
When you wake up it will be
the beginning of the world.
Happy birthday, beautiful,
in the fields of this day
hear a song, hear a song.

Oh, undeserved sweetness and light,
stay by my side.
We will go out in the morning now,
a crown of maple leaves, a crown of flowers
circling your sweet head.
Happy birthday, beautiful,
in the streets of this day
play a song, play a song.

You can listen to this song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K9v4O2U7u7Q

Second: I go back to May 1937

I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar make of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips back in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it - she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to die. I want to go
up to them there in the at May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like male and female
paper dolls and bang then together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.

~Sharon Olds

THIRD: this one (let us not ask who or exactly why)! It is very important:

Other things about 32:

32 is the ninth Happy number.

The New General Catalogue object NGC 32, a star in the constellation Pegasus

The number of completed, numbered piano sonatas by Ludwig van Beethoven

In the Kabbalah, there are 32 Kabbalistic Paths of Wisdom.

Sometimes considered to be the occult opposite of number 23

In Regina Spektor: "32 is still a god damn number"

REMEMBER YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE 32 TODAY IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO THAT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE MORE SPECIAL THAN OTHER PEOPLE!!!! (Jessieh almost erased that for the record).

32 WAYS TO DESCRIBE YOUS:

splediforious, magical, creative, terrific, better than The Golden Girls, tremendous, fab, incredible, lovely, tough, delightful, sugar-free with a little spice, joyous, crazy-great, totally rad, neato, wicked, genius, extraordinary, brilliant, super-fly, magnificent, lovable, cuddly, the cat’s meow, artistic, inspirational, besty besty friend everrrr, Lloyd’s other woman, multi-faceted (go ahead, laugh really hard), passionate, and ALIVE!!!

I love you so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so much.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Love always and then forever,

Jessieh

Unavailable.

A few weeks ago I was feeling pretty confident about my birthday (it is tomorrow and mostly now I am looking forward to the passing of it- I wish I had a better feeling about it- but I just don't right now). The past few years I have had a lot of sadness because I have 'missed my family'. And this year I finally felt like: I do not want to be around those people. And so I imagined I will not be sad. Except I actually feel worse about it all than I have in the past few years. I think this is because I am feeling more and more things feel real. So even though I am actually glad that I am not really in contact with my family... it is sad.

I am switching around between feelings of anger, sadness, depression, confusion, etc. I talked to Jessieh today and that helped me feel better.

I want to write more, go out and ride my bike, draw... but I am just fumbling around the house and trying to do just one small task and not cry and then I figure out what to do next.

This makes me feel a little better:

Nausea.

I feel like I am still struggling to recover from the incredibly painful phone call I had with my abuser and his accomplice (my 'dad' and 'mom') last Sunday. And I have therapy tomorrow and my birthday is this week and the news is full of painful truths about rape and what and how people think about rape. THIS article made me feel a little better tonight. And so did THIS.

And while THIS was not 'perfect'.... it was far better than the more than 100 other celebrities who signed the petition saying Polanski should be released.

Grief cake.

End of an email that I wrote out yesterday and today to my doctor:

I am alive but not fully living. Am I doing the very best I can? I am unsure. Why don't you help me more, I want to ask you Dr. C. But I realize what I really really want to say is: To my dad and mom: WHY DID YOU HURT ME? WHY DID YOU HURT ME? WHY DID YOU NOT TAKE CARE OF ME? WHY DID YOU NOT LOVE ME?

And also this: Roman Polanski is a CRIMINAL. It makes me sick that so many people are defending him.

And this: Today I saw the movie "Bright Star". It is the story of the romance between John Keats and Fanny Brawne. I loved it. It was beautiful and poetic and well made and just really inspiring. Sad, but great.

Yeah!

Art therapy image and text.

Here is the drawing I made yesterday at my art therapy group. I have still been struggling to recover from the conversation with 'my abuser and his accomplice'.

Now I have a cold, so I am not feeling great.

Yesterday I cried a lot at my group and talked about how painful it is to recognize that all of my fear is not really about anything in the present but is almost always connected to old pain of the past.

Good reasons.

Yesterday I spent a lot of the day trying to do things at home but mostly worrying about going to my therapy in the afternoon. I thought of about twenty good reasons why I 'shouldn't go' to therapy. I wanted to bike there and that created a huge tangle in my head- It will be too hard! It is too far! It will be too cold! But eventually I just went. I got my things together and got on my bike and just started going. And I felt so bad I had to tell myself that if I really felt terrible- that I could always turn around and come back home. But as soon as I got on my bike, all of my obsessing and fears receded quite a bit and I started to feel better. Then I became worried about getting home after therapy... It would be starting to get dark! It would be cold! I would be tired!!! I have been sneezing and I think I might be getting a little sick!!! But I was fine and made it home fine. I have really been feeling pain from the truth- I feel like I am still trying to recover from the phone call I had with my 'parents' on Sunday. It is amazing to me how I can take my pain over the past and force it into something in the present. Anyway- this post is short but I just wanted to write something here quick- today I have my therapy group (which I will bike to, I think...) and then tonight I am going to the symphony. Two days ago I was looking for blogs being written by survivors of incest and abuse (I already have a list of many that are good) and I was finding a huge number of blogs that people have not written on in the past few years. Yesterday as I was biking I was thinking that I am going write here about the rest of my recovery and therapy. I want to be another person that proves that it is possible to recover from the trauma of child sexual abuse. I think it is important because for so long it has seemed almost impossible... and I am finally starting to feel like I am healing now. It helps me to write here. I will write more soon. It feels really good to be back on my bike.