"Reality has the last word.” — Henri Cartier-Bresson.
December 4th, 2004 seems like a lifetime ago - to a past I barely can recognize or the person I once was.
Who I was on that day, holds little resemblance to who I am today.
On December 4th - a reality and truth was revealed - a truth that had been there all along.
Within our family was sexual abuse.
The silence was broken and reality held things that were hard to bring in.
Things no one wanted to talk about, let alone hear about.
Things no child truly wants to own, no matter their age.
And the shock of its longevity and legacy.
The generations of silence and knowing.
Of forgiving.
Denying and living as if it wasn't there.
Two drastically different realities being lived out - in unison.
What is truth and what is fiction.
December 4th, was my coming out of denial.
Of seeing my family tree and all its ugly branches.
I lost so much on that day and gained equal parts.
Coming out of denial typically means bringing in a truth.
And, most often the truths denial covers up is not easy to acknowledge, accept or live with - hence denial.
I think many people believe that the truth is what most people live; when in actuality, denial is most normal.
Not only denying what others do; but more often our own truths, thoughts, feelings and emotions.
When you no longer can be in denial - the only other place to land - I think is reality. Or, you may create a second pretend place to be - maybe one that preaches forgiveness.
On December 4th, I began living my life based on reality and the truths I had denied in my body - and I began questioning beliefs and thoughts. It began a long journey of being Me.
Seventeen years is a long time - I can't even believe it has been that long.
The emotions of that time were so excruciating and the waves of truth overpowering.
Yet at the same time I felt a thrill of becoming.
An empowerment of standing with me, my feelings and reality.
As one life disintegrated - another was being born.
It was mind blowing how much of my life was not real - and how much real I had not seen/felt or acknowledged.
I can't begin to describe how it feels to wake up in a life that has very little truth to hold it in place.
To not be able to believe in your past and to have no idea what the future will be.
You are nowhere.
The past is dead - for the lack of truth makes it non-living.
And the future is unborn.
Yet I was alive.
Broken; but alive.
December 4th - broke me.
December 4th birthed me.
Sitting here today seventeen years later - I am in awe.
Awe, that I am estranged.
In awe that I lived and thrived away from my family.
Living a good life didn't seem possible - beginning where I began.
I wouldn't wish this on anyone - and yet I want my journey for everyone who is lost in denial.
I want earth crushing truths to wake you up - so you can live your life from the inside out.
I want you to feel who you are inside
To honor your feelings and emotions.
To be able to be who you were born to be.
I wouldn't give nothing for my journey today.
Today, 17 years later - I sit with peace, love and joy in my heart.
I am estranged.
I haven't seen or talked to many of my family in years and years.
December 4th broke my family apart for me - and it broke me.
Anything that wasn't real fell away - which include 99 percent of me.
The tiniest piece of me - just speck - breathed that day.
A small but powerful part.
My truth, long neglected and tossed aside with forgiveness, was alive.
The truth lived as reality.
In truth I found love.
Truth
Love
You can't have one without the other.
And, it truly starts inside with you.
Owning your truth, standing with it no matter what.
No matter if reality sucks and is ugly.
Stand and be with it.
December 4th and its proclamation of sexual abuse within our family wasn't going to define me - but it had to be fully embraced and accepted. I had to own my history and accept that my past could be no different in order for me to Be Me.
You can't be your true self without the full truth of your life.
I am so grateful this is where I landed.
I let reality have the last word.
