Everything around me had collapsed. I did somehow get through each day, between my job and my two children. But the pain that crept to the surface in every free second was hard for me to bear.
For years I was in survival mode – trapped between deep depression, sleep problems, panic attacks, and constant physical complaints. Through my relationship with a person whose behavior I increasingly experienced as toxic, and by whom I felt taken advantage of in my good nature and my strong wish to help, I was finally so desperate, so far down, that I began begging God to finally show me who I am.
Why certain things trigger me so much. Why I wake up screaming at night, terrified that I won’t survive the night.
Here come the answers – and in the end, there’s really only one.
And for me, there is really only one answer to all these questions. From time to time this answer becomes more detailed, when new flashbacks come … new memories and sensory memories of abuse and violence. Memories of power, manipulation, and guilt that I connect with my experiences back then – for me, their effects reach back decades, all the way to when I was a little girl in kindergarten.
Here I tell my story … in colors, images, thoughts. Sometimes connected, sometimes in detail, sometimes short … just the way I feel it.