Ya know what scares the shit out of me? Sharing my story. It’s strange because if we sit down over coffee, I’ll always spill everything (but only if you ask). Face to face, I’ll tell it all…

I grew up in a broken home…

I was molested for many years of my childhood…

I drank through high school. Smoked too…

I tried to run away (multiple times)…

I was self-destructive…

I’ve been homeless…

But why does it scare me to share publicly? Because victims are far to often “shut down” by the ones who didn’t see the signs. We are told to move on. Forget about it. Forgive. We are blamed for “not speaking up sooner”. We are told we are just seeking negative attention.

Well, ya know what? It’s time for me to speak out. Sure, I have a freakin’ fantastic life now. I really do. I am blessed far beyond what I deserve. But I still carry all that damn baggage on a daily basis and I’m tired of it.

I started my weight loss journey because I need to be healthy. I need to be present in life to raise my son, be a good wife, and because I want to enjoy my life. But I’m realizing working out has brought out a lot of emotions I’ve packed away for a very long time. I’m learning that I have been really good at compartmentalizing my traumatic childhood. As I’m shedding pounds I’m realizing my body is also trying to shed some of that baggage too and damn, it hurts, but it feels good too. I’ve hated myself for as long as I can remember. I’ve never loved my body. I’ve never loved myself. But I realize I need to. And I should have started working on that years ago.

I share this not because I want you to feel sorry for me, I don’t want your apologies. I don’t need your sympathies. I share it because I want you to be able to shed your baggage too. I know I’m tired of lugging mine around. Hiding it. Keeping it secret. I’m ready to be open. Be free. Be happy. I want you to know that I’m here for you. To listen. To cry on. Or share my story for empathy. Whatever you need to get through your hard journey too. Darling, I’m here for you.