So here I am. My 100th post on this blog. Not even 1/3 the amount of postings that I have had in other blogs and certainly not as faithfully written in--but this one has been an especially healing journey. I am not sure, at times, how I feel about sharing such a personal journey with the online world, but I guess since I have shared this story with other victims of domestic violence and have spoken to roomfuls of strangers regarding the content within, it really makes little difference.
Three years later, I am still grasping at understanding and healing. While I am much stronger now emotionally, I still bear physical scars from that day and still remain alienated from the majority of my family. I still struggle with anger. I still struggle with tears when counting back over the "loved ones" that I have lost as a result of that piece of my life. Some days I think that I am a stronger, more independent person as a result of those events. Other days, I wonder if I will ever recover.
I suppose it seems odd to most that know me in real life--I am a very private person and will recoil from friends that share my life without my permission--yet, here we are. How does that work? Honestly, I don't have an answer for that. Perhaps it is the belief that this blog is undiscovered, unread. Perhaps it is to share my journey in hopes that others struggling will find some sense in their madness. While mostly this is my place for venting and soul-searching that really should be done in private, I share it because for all of my introverted tendencies, I have still always, truly, been an open book.
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