Mended Musings

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  I always go back to 17, most often when I’m driving and listening to music. A song will remind me of how much I hated myself that year and I’m back there, looking at 1987 like a white cross on the roadside. It’s the year I told. It’s the year I lost control of everything. It’s the year I spent two weeks in a psychiatric facility and wished I could stay… Read More

I purposely keep walking by mirrors so that I can see myself. When I’m sure no one is looking, I lift my shirt to make sure they’re real. I feel like a teenage girl whose boobies sprouted overnight; amazed, grateful, relieved. And to think that all it took was a little surgery to make me recognize myself again.

I had a two-day meltdown last month, which seems to happen every July. I don’t know what the trigger is exactly, other than that most of the abuse I can remember happened during the summer months. It used to bother me, not knowing why it was always July, and now I think that maybe it’s a mystery that doesn’t need to be solved. Or maybe it is solved and I just want to… Read More

  “There is a common misconception in our culture about who suffers from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and what it looks like. A quick Google image search will lead you to believe that the majority of those living with PTSD are men in uniform, when the reality is that women are twice as likely to develop it as men, and it can be acquired in a number of ways. Not all wars take… Read More

I discovered David Bowie in my dad’s record collection in 1982 when I was 12 years old. I was mesmerized by Ziggy Stardust and listened to that record incessantly. In my daily life I was trying hard to suppress overwhelming feelings but when I heard those songs, I could cry and lament because it wasn’t me – it was the music. It allowed me to express feelings that scared me in a… Read More

When I come across a picture of myself as a child, I fight against what I see. I see her smiling face but most of the time, I don’t remember being her. In my childhood memories, I’m not really a child at all but something other. I’ve been in recovery for awhile now and I still struggle with explaining what that means, what it means to have never really felt like a… Read More

My husband is a really private man, which is why I don’t write about him much. He’s my biggest fan and supporter but it hasn’t always been easy for him to watch me blog so openly about my experiences. It goes against his private nature. I’ve had countless people tell me that they think I’m brave to write about this stuff but I’m only brave because I’m so deeply and completely sustained… Read More

I usually don’t post a piece until after I’ve had some distance and have been able to gain clarity around the emotions. I have struggled with whether or not to post this one because I’m still in the midst of the experience. I’m still sick over it, I’m still trying to get in touch with my body and its signals. As I write this, I have a horrible cold. Maybe it’s because… Read More

I’m a big fan of The Sisterwives and am always floored by the courage and fearlessness of the people who share their stories there. Now it’s my turn and I’m both excited and a little nervous. I keep thinking… I needed to share this. What the hell am I doing? There are too many details. This barely scratches the surface. I can’t do this. I can’t not do this. It’s a story… Read More

Every so often I read a book that sticks with me, makes me remember where I came from and reminds me of the resiliency of the human spirit. Wounds of the Father: A True Story of Child Abuse, Betrayal, and Redemption by Elizabeth Garrison is such a book. Elizabeth suffered unspeakable childhood abuse but what she focuses on in her book is her descent into drug and alcohol addiction and how she… Read More