Fact

About 3:30 this morning, when I couldn't sleep, I started crying.
I tried not to cry because I know my husband has an extra long day at work today and I didn't want to wake him. But I couldn't help crying. The best I could do was to cry quietly.

I was crying because I was thinking about the conversation we had last night. I was thinking about my insecurities. And I realized that every one of my interactions with the world is affected by the childhood abuse I survived.

I'm sure I have realized this at least once before but it is something I hoped to... outgrow, to heal beyond, to undo. The affects of abuse cannot be undone or outgrown. Whether or not I can heal beyond them is debatable.

Everything has been affected by the abuse.
Which new recipes I'm willing to try is affected by the abuse. What clothes I buy and wear is affected by the abuse. My personal hygiene has been affected by the abuse. The way I relate to my husband has been affected by the abuse. How I interact with my friends has been affected by the abuse.

I don't know if there is a single moment, a single thought, a single decision that isn't affected by the abuse.

This morning, that fact made me cry.

Today, in the sunlight, that fact is simply... fact.

The abuse made me who I am today. Good, bad and indifferent. It is not the only thing that made me who I am today but it is a huge part of who I am. I'm not always concious of this - if I was I'm sure I'd take a long walk into the ocean - but it is a constant truth. There is a slight comfort in knowing why I am the way I am.

I will never be glad that the abuse happened. But I am learning to appreciate more of the things that have come about because of the abuse.

It is a journey that will not end until the day I die.

That is not the torturous though that it used to be. I am growing and feeling and wanting to live instead of simply surviving.

I have gained hope.

Hope is beautiful.