Use your experiences for strength - The Notebook

I'm diving in. 

Yes, it’s terrifying to expose the parts of me that have been buried for so long, but I believe you will understand how these pieces have shaped me into the person I am today.  I share each of these bits to help you.

I was around 10 when it all began—the "encounters." I was confused, caught between the love and trust of those closest to me, and the message they unknowingly taught me: that I was to be seen but never heard. My truth was something to be hidden, because somehow, I believed it was my fault. We moved, but the cycle continued. It wasn’t until I became a woman, around 12, that the encounters stopped. My sister, a silent strength, helped me navigate the changes of growing up, and in her own quiet way, she showed me that I wasn’t alone.

When I tried to speak up, to tell an adult, I was told that it was just something that happened in every family. “Brush it under the carpet,” they said. I remember thinking, this can’t be right. Why didn’t someone try to help me? Why didn’t they protect me from what I couldn’t even comprehend? I didn’t have answers, but I did have something else: a journal. A gift from that adult, a place to write down my feelings and thoughts, and to destroy them if I wished. So I wrote.

Years passed, and I learned something else. One of the abusers had a girlfriend, and when she became pregnant with a girl, I understood that the cycle could continue unless someone broke it.

At sixteen, I met someone who showed me what love truly meant. They held my hand, listened to my heart, and helped me speak up. I wrote my statement to the police, terrified but choosing to take a leap of faith. When the papers were served, one of the abusers asked for forgiveness, and the other was angry, demanding, “Doesn’t your church teach you to forgive and forget?”

I sat silently, tears filling my eyes, unsure of my worth. But my journey had just begun.

I wrote more. I asked myself the whys and the why nots. And after months of counseling, the day came. The courtroom. The Judge asked me a question I’ll never forget: “What do you want? They can go to Juvenile Detention, or they can go to counseling.”

I took a deep breath, and with clarity and courage I had never known, I answered: “I don’t want them to become worse. I want them to become better. It had to have started somewhere, and I want to be where it stops.”

They went to counseling. And I truly believe that the cycle ended with me.

Writing gave me more than just a place to express my pain. It cleared the anger from my heart, bit by bit. In the process, I learned to value myself—just a little more each day. And with that newfound self-worth came the strength to make the choices that broke a destructive pattern.

This is my story, and it’s one of strength, healing, and the power to change not just my own life, but the lives of those around me. The journey wasn’t easy, but I can now look back and see how every part of it made me whole.

Today, take a moment to sit down and write.  Work through your pain and make it something more.