Popcorn ceiling, focus on the popcorn ceiling. It's not happening, just pretend it's not happening. Why wasn't someone coming to help, knowing I was being hurt? How could no one on this ginormous planet not hear my screams?
I wasn't screaming outwardly, I was numb and my screams were deafening but only to myself as they were buried deep in my soul.

Years of memories were erased, or so I thought, from my mind. I desperately needed those years back, I needed those memories as awful as they may be, they were a part of my story and finally I had reached a place that I cherished my story and myself. The shame and fear and guilt that came with not remembering years of my life was heavy, as if somehow it was my fault for not holding firm to these horrific moments. My ongoing prayer was "God, in your perfect time, please reveal the truth and hold me tight as I see it".

Blessed with the world's most loving and understanding man by my side those memories came one after another, often bringing me to my knees. Was I really seeing my own reflection on the canvas that was once blank, now being painted with the darkest of dark?

That was me. This is me. However, I am not the me who used to be. By the grace of God I walked, sometimes crawled through the memories of old and peace eventually settled over me. No, the pain was not erased and the memories remained fresh but a new found sense of freedom began to fill me. I knew my story, all of my story and it didn't kill me, define me, or crush my spirit. That was a victory in and of itself.