Today is April 1st. In 16 days my book, Buried Saints, is being released by She Writes Press.

I’m a published author. That is such a cool thing to say! Makes my heart beam with pride, except I don’t often say it. I published under a pen name so, “Author” is not listed in my resume.

I’m not ashamed of my story. I would be lying if I didn’t say I’m still working through it. I’m proud of our family. My daughters are doing amazing. They love and thrive in school and have the biggest dreams for their lives. My marriage is still intact and we work every day to love each other wholly. We aren’t really good at that yet but we have deep deep love and we are showing that effort to our children.

We face the darkest demons (which still pop up sometimes) and say: “You won’t get us today”. It’s hard to face those demons. They are humbling and they hurt. It’s tempting to think that once the abuse is over life just goes back to normal. It doesn’t. I need to say that again, it doesn’t. I see life from a completely new lens. Things that mattered – don’t. Things that didn’t matter – do.

I no longer care if I am waiting in a long line at CVS. I get impatient sure. But there are real problems in the world I tell myself. I completely care about how as a culture we judge others from the outside. And let’s face it, people see fit to judge, or worse, place blame from the outside. My mamma bear instincts kick into high gear when I see the judgment coming out of someone’s mouth. Sort of funny now that I think about it, having spent the first three decades of my life judging people.

I heard it on the news last night from a reformed prisoner – the hardest part about facing what you have done is facing who you have hurt. Of course, I’m paraphrasing. I would like to say the best part of us is that we DID face it.  As my daughter popped into our normally very bland dinner prayer last night, “Thank you Lord for the knowledge and power we receive from our experiences and the things we have been through” (this is a code word for us for the abuse). If I had already started eating I may have choked a bit. I always want to stand and dance when I get a little glimpse of how empowered my growing daughters are, but that isn’t cool when you have pre-teens. So I celebrate silently, just like I do for my upcoming book.

Buried Saints isn’t for my family or about us. It’s about the thousands of parents out there struggling to help their kids. It’s about committing my life to live without shame. When we own and share our stories we realize others have had similar experiences. We all can live openly, educate our kids early and often, help friends in crisis and not be alone.

Almost ten years ago I never could have imagined that I would be happier and more at peace than I have ever been. It would be easy to be mad because I sure was mad. Angry, I gave it a new meaning. It would be easy to never trust anyone anymore. Well, technically I may not really trust people for lots of other reasons 🤦‍♀️ but I try. By trying to move forward we ARE moving forward. And each day we try it gets a little easier.

Join me and my family in the growing community or resilient, strong, real and reflective people.


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Photo by Katherine Chase on Unsplash

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