200th Post and 35 Year Milestone

“For I will restore health to you, and your wounds I will heal, declares the Lord,” Jeremiah 30:17a ESV

On Monday, fireworks exploded on my screen as I opened messages wishing me a Happy New Year! At midnight, for those who were awake, balls dropped, confetti fell, and people kissed ushering in 2024. In my corner of the world, Chambersburg celebrated by dropping Martin’s Rolls and nearby Carlisle dropped a Hotchee Dog. I missed both with no regrets. Both Terry and I were out by 10pm, catching up on much needed sleep after a wonderful week filled with family and memory-making moments.

Dear reader, I wish when you opened this blog, confetti would fall and fireworks would explode, because you are reading my 200^th post! Yes, I have written 200 posts. For over four years, I have been sharing with an open heart my triumphs, struggles, and most importantly, my journey into being a whole and healthy person rooted in God. I have been transparent about areas in my life that I have previously reserved for my inner circle. I have explored ideas about self-image, body shaming, sexual abuse, marital difficulties, and dealing with menopause and empty nest. I have celebrated people who have impacted me and dived deep into understanding joy. I have been honest about regrets and some of my shortcomings. And most importantly, I have always tried to glorify God. This is not me trying to “Christianize” everything in a neatly wrapped packaged with a pretty bow, but instead identify with the real people in the Bible, who are flawed and full of questions. This includes reminders of God’s character and sometimes its resting on my hope in God with no apparent answers.

The end of December came with another milestone, one that most wouldn’t think confetti or balloons should mark. But for me, it is a celebration, nonetheless. Thirty-five years ago, on December 20, 1988, I reported about the dark secrets in my home that changed the trajectory of not only my life, but those of everyone in my family. That afternoon, after hinting at it with one of my teachers, I went to the guidance counselor and poured out about the hidden sexual abuse that I had endured for years. Trembling, I spoke about a lifetime of incidents that I had covered up by over-eating, talking excessively, and joining every club imaginable, desperate to have a separate identity from the little girl who faced a living nightmare. And within a few hours, I was put into a safe home while an arrest was made of my perpetrator: my stepfather.

A lot has transpired since then. After the arrest was made, a guilty plea was entered, a sentence was given, and I did some counseling. Later, I had a life-changing experience with God that gave me a foundation, and a group of friends provided safety for the healing journey to begin. I completed college, married, had two children, and now have two grandchildren with a third on the way. I have a fulfilling life, but I still have the shadow of the abuse impacting me in ways I keep discovering.

I have now lived twice as long without abuse as I did with the abuse. And yet I identify with Maya’s lamentation about her own rape in Us Against You, a novel by Fredrik Backman. “When people talk about rape, they always do so in the past tense. She “was.” She “suffered.” She “went through.” But she didn’t go through it, she’s still going through it. She wasn’t raped, she’s still being raped. For Kevin it lasted a matter of minutes, but for her it never ends.”

My last actual incident of rape occurred over 35 years ago, but I still live with its impact, its shame, and the internal negative messages that l received. Through counseling, a lot of hard work, and mostly the hand of God who is always orchestrating my life for good, I am lessening its impact. I no longer feel like the rape never ends and I feel like I am moving from being not just a survivor but to being an overcomer. I keep moving the bar further away from being shattered and closer to wholeness.

I don’t think it is a coincidence that the writing of my 200^th blog post coincides with the 35^th anniversary of me reporting. While writing both my blog and my memoir (which I hope to have published this year, it really is almost done), I have continued my healing journey. Sharing the most vulnerable stories of my life with my readers has been transformative. Your responses and support have made me feel less alone and part of a community of not just survivors but overcomers.

Maybe you personally don’t identify with being a rape victim. But all of us have felt rejection in some fashion, whether it’s in the form of being bullied, verbally abused, betrayed, or a myriad of other situations. We all face the hard internal work of changing the negative messages to ones of hope and truth. And the more we share our most vulnerable moments, the less isolated we feel. It also creates the safety for us to do the hard work of healing and wholeness.

For me, Graceful Transitions continues to be a place of healing and transformation. I echo Brene’ Brown when she says, “Vulnerability is the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, but it appears that it’s also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, of love.” Reader, I pray that my blog continues to be a birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging, and love. For what was stolen from me, God keeps redeeming back partly through my writing. I can’t rewrite your story, but I can be an example through my transparency of what a story redeemed can look like. So, Graceful Transition will continue maybe even for 200 more posts!