I am slowly coming back into my body and my self, after the week of disassociating in order to record the audiobook.

It. Was. Hard.

I know I still have a lot to process, as there were things I read that I’d never excavated in therapy, that I haven’t released the terror and the fear.

I also know that reading it and seeing where and how I was back then, and even back when I wrote the memoir, and even back when it was published, made me realize how far I’ve come.

And maybe why my therapist said to me years ago, “your capacity for joy is amazing, considering the trauma you experienced.”

I’m coming to see, own, and admit that trauma even more, as I’m also coming to see, own, and admit my wholeness and fullness and recovery even more.

My strength. My resilience. My luckiness.

I was interviewed on the Harmonic Atheist podcast last week. I think we had a fun time recognizing how bizarre we thought each other’s childhood religious beliefs were (the host was raised in evangelical Christianity).

He called me a hero. I cried. (It’s already live. You can watch it now.)

I am once again owning that I wasn’t safe when I was little. That I was taught some pretty f—d up things. That some pretty f—d up things happened to and around me. That there are parts of me that are still aching and sore and scared, even as much as I am joyful and healing and whole.

I am having more and more compassion for those parts. For myself. More and more my hand on my heart and slowness to my pace. More and more a tender-heartedness to and for that me back then and this me today.

I think it’s something most, if not all, of us could benefit from.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and please share this post with others if it resonates with you!

Photo by Drew Muse on nappy

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