One year. Actually one year and two days. On March 8, 2015, I posted my first entry on this blog. This, my third attempt at a blog. And here I am, a year later, still blogging. I would never have guessed I’d last a year, or that I’d have people following me – reading what I write and, GASP, liking some of what I write …
When I started, I was amazed at the places where I was getting readers. The US, yeah – understandable I suppose, but so many other places. To date, I have been viewed in 24 countries, plus the US. 25 in all. Australia, Austria, Canada, Cyprus, France, Guam, India, Kenya, Lebanon, Mexico, Nepal, New Zealand, Nigeria, Norway, Pakistan, Poland, Portugal, Spain, Sudan, Sweden, Thailand, Turkey, United Arab Emirates, United Kingdom, United States. Are you in there? I hope so. I’d hate to think I missed someone..
I probably won’t keep tracking to this extent, though I will always be curious where my readers are. While it’s great seeing a new country appear, but seeing the same country reappear, realizing it could be the same person from some far off place returning to read something I’ve written … It makes the world a little bit smaller yet, at the same time, makes the whole impact of this thing so much larger.
I used to think seeing all these places would make feel some sort of ‘obligation to my readers’ … and there is that to an extent, I suppose – but more I now have an obligation to myself. To be true to who I am. To speak from me. The real me. That oft times scared little boy who is afraid of rejection but crying to be heard.
I have something to say. Something that needs to be said. For me. I need to express it, to let it out, to keep it from building pressure from that steam kettle on high heat.
I was abused. Violated. Taken advantage of. At a time and age where I expected (rightfully so) and needed to be supported and protected, I was shamed and humiliated, beaten and bruised, mentally and physically. And I’m still here. I was beaten down, yes. Broken and shattered. But I still walk.
I am learning a great deal about the indomitable human spirit. That uniqueness in a vast universe. Unique and alone maybe in that – but not alone in our suffering. How we were hurt is so immensely different if you compare notes – but the fact is we hurt. But we are. We survived what happened and we manage each day through the depression and the curves and ruts and holes and pits that beset us.
I am still not to where I can call myself a victor. But I am no longer a victim. That was then. Now, though each day is often a struggle, I get through it. By the grace of God. By the union with others on this planet who understand pain. Understand neglect and abuse. We don’t have to know if we can understand. [and wow is THAT an awkward sentence]
So much of me is still not at peace with what has happened or what is happening around me. But I am learning to find peace within myself. With myself.
And I wish the same for you.