I’ve been asked many times what healing looks like. Can we be horribly abused and then wipe away the pain and rage to go on with our lives like we were never even hurt? Let me venture into the core of my soul so I can share my thoughts with you. I hope my words will answer your questions. I warn you that I will be brutally honest. That’s what comes with healing.

I was born with the potential to one day bloom into a ravishing rose. Captivating, complex, yet delicate. But not all things come to fruition; even when they do, the timing is not ours to determine. How we wait and the choices we make are everything, as they will determine when, how, and whether we will bloom.

This blog post is one I never wanted to write. It's also a blog post I almost didn't get to write.

Five children. The five beautiful children almost left to a husband, their father, to raise. Five incredible children whose lives would be forever affected by a loss no child, no loved one should ever endure. Yes, this could have had an entirely different ending. And because of that, this is a blog post I must write.

How I love those brilliantly spectacular days when the sun shines, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. The breeze is calm, and the air is fresh. I could sit under a tree and watch nature just “happen.” These days come only a few times a year, and when they do, I remind myself to allow my soul to take it all in. Every breath. Every sound. Everything.

But sometimes the breeze picks up.

So much to do. So little time! I see where time has gone but what I need to know is how do I find more of it?

To me, the world is like an ant colony. Busy beings are buzzing about, walking into, over and around one another, meeting impending goals, challenges, and deadlines. But where has the humanness gone? How do we maintain and protect the feeling, understanding, empathetic side of our interactions and our lives?

We are here. We are survivors. We are warriors. And even when we are too tired to fight, our blood still courses through our veins to bring us to where we are. Our weak flesh and sullen souls are somehow still intact despite what tried killed us.

But we blame ourselves. Why? WHY didn’t we walk away long ago. WHY were we chosen to be the victims we never volunteered to become? WHY are we left with the baggage, pain, anger, confusion, and depression? Where was the mercy we deserved? WHY was it okay for our abusers to saddle us with horrors that are often too burdensome to bear.