Rewritten Road

I tell my story in fragments. Not because the pieces are small, but because that’s often how it comes flooding back over me. A smell.A sentence someone says.A look I recognize too quickly. Trauma rarely arrives in order. It comes the way memories do – in flashes. Pieces. In moments that surface when you least…

I started hiking last Spring to exercise my lungs. Somewhere along the way I found strength in other areas of my body. My mind stopped racing as often. My heart started softening. Then I read a story about an indigenous practice of carrying stones to the river and releasing them. Giving grief a shape, a…

I am a planner by nature. I have two planners, 3 calendars and an entire journal specifically for a trip across the country I’m trying to put together. I like to say I’m a Virgo that loves structure, but the truth is – abuse made me crave predictability. If I can look ahead, I can…

Tomorrow I’m hiking a mountain I’ve never climbed before. It isn’t Everest.It isn’t dramatic. But tonight, my body is buzzing like it knows something my mind is pretending not to. What if I can’t do it?What if I turn around halfway?What if I freeze?What if I’m not as strong as I’ve been telling myself? The…

Sleep sometimes evades me. Days, weeks, months at a time. I’ll get a few hours here or there, then move through my life on autopilot, my body upright while my brain feels like it’s on fire. One night, I found myself awake at 2:13 a.m., so I put on my hiking shoes and started walking.…

The trail never promises anything. Not good weather. Not clear views. Not even that the map is right. You start anyway. Changing into your hiking shoes in the parking lot that usually smells like pine needles and earth, knowing that at some point the path will disappear into rock or mud or your own doubt.…

I have a tendency to tell my story in fragments rather than in a straight line. The truth is, there isn’t a single beginning to the road I’m on today. Just a series of places where I kept going. I grew up learning endurance before safety. My mother’s abuse shaped my earliest landscape. Her hate…

I used to think acceptance would feel like clarity but with a bright neon sign – Beetlejuice style. Instead, it arrived quietly. No revelation. No grand healing arc. Just a tired kind of peace. And I damn sure don’t mean the kind of “peace” they sell in books. More like that exhale when you realize…

My heart is a mess today, well honestly, it’s been a mess for a few weeks now. Sometimes I feel like the anger comes in waves and I am a lighthouse stuck on shore. Most times though, it shows up on an ordinary Thursday while I’m folding laundry or standing in line at the grocery…

I used to think leaving was one clean exit away from harm. Safe. Forward. But healing, I’m learning, is like getting lost on a new trail with no cell service. Paths are there, but usually invisible to the version of you that was still surviving. Some of these trails are beautiful. Others are steep. Most…