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And I'm Still Here...

Yesterday I did something terrifying. At least for me. I admitted to the world, which required me to admit to myself, that I have issues with worthiness that encompasses fear and shame as it relates to money. I shared the truth about an incredibly frightening and shameful time of despair and lack in my life. In speaking that truth, I opened a wound that has been with me for so long that I have gotten used to its additional weight, its smell, its limitations. At times, I have accepted its toxic messages as truth and felt the need to affix to myself a mask of someone who feels safe.

I have never felt safe. Maybe it is biology, maybe it is the permanent imprint of trauma, maybe it is something my tiny human brain does not have the capacity to understand. Regardless, I have grown tired of the mask. I have grown tired of bullshit. I genuinely want to be free of the pretense that causes us to lie and say we are “Great!” when, in reality, we are barely keeping our hearts inside of our bodies. We are holding it all together with duct tape – but not in a funny way.

During that harrowing time, over a decade ago now, we had a few friends who were truly there for us with so much love and kindness. Our family has always been so supportive. We are fortunate beyond measure. But I remember the times when sharing my fear and pain of the situation with some people in my life - people I was very close to – and seeing the moment when they stopped listening.