I know what it’s like to suppress (and repress) your trauma. I know what it feels like to doubt what you know. I understand how to dissociate in an instant and why you might do it. I know what it’s like to fill your life with anything, to avoid the painful chaos of having too much internal space. I have lived the feeling of wanting to be close and needing to push away at the same time. I’ve walked many lonely, painful miles in shoes that didn’t fit, until my feet were chafed and blistered, genuinely believing someday I’d have a true home and something good to share.

I also know how ambivalent we can be toward our own needs and how easy it is to be determined to make a change and then withdraw from everything the next day.

The legacy of trauma is well known for its power to pull you under, like a riptide. I myself fought that tide for decades until I remembered we’re supposed to swim parallel to the shore calmly. Then I spent years swimming. Eventually, I managed to make it back to shore, and I brought some treasures from the deep I’m willing to share with anyone who, like me, is maybe feeling tired of fighting the tide and wants a life that probably looks the same as it did before, but feels vastly better.