I have spent most of life this way, anticipating a monster around every corner and challenge in my life. I have walked through tremendous times in my sobriety. I knocked on 22 doors of homes I robbed -- knees shaking, stomach turning, dry mouthed -- and slowly acknowledged the harm and pain I inflicted on these innocent families.
I have walked into stores, too numerous to count, with no home, phone or personal references and asked for employment, only to be turned away, time after time. Having to dig deep and tap into my perseverance, finally I found a job and began to put my life back together.
I have stood behind the man who raped me, only to have my fear of him morph into an unexpected sense of compassion, leaving him in peace to find his own way in recovery. I have sat with my family and friends and listened with grace and dignity about the harm and effect I had on their lives. I have stood in front of family and friends and vowed my life to a man I love, given birth when I was sure I was unworthy of children, and I have stood in front 2,500 people, turned the microphone on and shed light on my darkest days. I have traveled the country working with families, and I have published my first book. And even after all this, I still get held up by fear.
I realize how great I am at surviving, but that I’m only just now learning how to live. I can survive hopeless drug addiction, rape, and the freezing, ruthless streets that nearly killed me, but do you know I cannot make banana nut bread? No matter how hard I try. I have tried recipes from Martha Stewart, Cooking light and Real Simple to name a few, and for the life of me I can get the middle to cook as quickly as the sides. All I want to do is make a %&*# loaf of bread to feed my kids as my mom did for me, but instead I end up with bread that is raw in the middle and two laughing little children who think it is funny that their mom doesn’t know how to cook.
Do you know that I am afraid to have people over for dinner? I am scared that somehow people might see through my pretty furniture and shiny floors and be able to tell how unsure of myself I truly am. It is amazing to me that I can put on a Calvin Klein suit and stare at myself in the mirror only to see the lost, drug addicted broken girl staring back me. I walk out the door to my presentation with a fear deep within, that when the lights go down and the spotlight finds my body, that all the audience will be able to see is the scared girl that is hiding in me. I feel fear as I navigate through the male-dominated addictions industry, struggling with the belief that my thoughts and feelings and ideas are valid and purposeful.
There is no greater captor than my own mind and the limitations I put on myself. I have done a good job facing my fears but as my life gets larger and healthier, I am still, at times, held back by fear. My greatest challenge is my deep fear of being seen. Maybe it is the bitter aftertaste of rape, maybe it is memory of my past -- that if I am truly seen, then the world will find out that beneath it all, I am scared and, sometimes, feel unworthy of all the respect and success I have created in my life.
I want to take my rightful place in this world, shrinking back for no one. I want to stand face forward, chest out, arms at my side and walk straight into my destiny. One day at a time, I want to live free of the bondage of fear and self-doubt. Today, I will live free. Fear will no longer be an excuse not to live my life to the fullest.
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