There is no way to describe New England in late September. Our neighborhood farm stand has replaced baskets of ripening peaches with crisp apples grown in orchards in the foothills. Pots of autumn-colored mums have taken the place of bouquets of raffia-tied zinnias. Pumpkins of all shapes and sizes line the pebble path to our back door. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Yearly, like clockwork, people come from miles around to see the breathtaking, sensational sight of the colors of Autumn. The interim between early and late fall is so short. Soon, those we call "leaf peepers" will descend in droves to witness the leaves taking on brilliant burnt orange and all shades of ochre. Time is of the essence.

The seasons are a gift of not to be reckoned with, each year, like it or not. Surely, short yet steady, this glorious gift is a yearly declaration of the inevitability of change. Just like life.

Each Autumn I am reminded of how life moves along, bringing with it the promise of change with genuine honesty. Soon paling to a dreary brown and silently dancing down in a steady show, the leaves blanket the fading summer grass. My summer flowers in all their splendor have finally faded. It promises permission to stop worrying about weeding and now turn to gather the seeds from my spent summer blossoms. This yearly passage, albeit stunning, stands for change. It’s part and parcel of being human to resist and fear change. Don’t we all?

For many, change is never easy. We are wired to resist the unfamiliar and unavoidable parts of life. But sometimes change can lead to healing.

For me, it signifies leaving the abuse that threatened my sanity. It was either my abusers or me; only one would win. It had to be me. I just couldn’t take any more of their badgering, belittling and berating. It had to stop. I’d taken far too much over 40 years. FORTY YEARS! Even one would have been too much.

Taking a deep breath while knowing to expect significant meltdowns, I shed the layers of my raw pain. They fell away like the autumn leaves, because I too had become faded, and lifeless. Through my eyes, I saw life in only sepia tones. I knew I had two choices; stay and slowly die or leave and face the growing pains of change. I refused to ever become like them. I would NEVER abuse my own children. This was non-negotiable. I had to leave.

For me, leaving was one of the most challenging changes in my entire life. I felt so alone in my journey, later writing 'Room in the Heart' to give others the support and hope I desperately sought to find in my struggle. But you are not alone. You too can break the cycle of abuse.

Even if you think your abuse ended with the death of you abuser, or even the distance that released you from their grip, you are mistaken. While forgiving them (in my opinion- not required) and walking away sounds like a solid plan, these plans couldn’t be further from the truth. Until you finally face fully the effect they had on your soul, and bit by bit undo each wrong, they will continue to live in your head rent-free. They will usurp your energy and smother your soul. They will tell you that you imagine their abuse of you. They will leave you lifeless and brittle like late Autumn’s fallen leaves. Then, they will rake you up then send you to the curb for leaf pickup. That’s not the end. Year after year, even decade after decade, you will be their virtual victim. Neither miles nor even their internment will fade their wrath. But I know you CAN be free of their abuse, both physically and emotionally, if you choose to. It’s ultimately up to you.

With years of therapy, I did shed the horrors of their abuse. I still suffer from PTSD and spent two stints at an eating disorders program, but I am finally free. I see all colors instead of simply sepia. I face tomorrow as I do today; a welcome yet anticipated unknown. Why? Because I ended and healed from my abuse. In that end, I celebrated finally living. My heart is no longer heavy, and my lust for life is alive and well.

These days you could call me a leaf peeper too. I welcome the colors of fall. I want to watch the dancing leaves surrender to gravity. I love the fresh fall air and crisp apples. I love it all.

Autumn is proof that change can be a good thing. I’ve weathered the storm and hold hope you will too. Bring it on!