I’ve been described as courageous. Somehow I never associated that word with myself. But, you know, maybe I am. It takes a lot of guts to move to the other side of the globe where you don’t speak the language.
People have said it’s courage to live through what I’ve lived through. No, I don’t think so. That was pure survival. I distinctly remember wanting to kill myself at 5. That’s not courage, that’s just trying to stay alive in madness. When asked about why I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t know. And I felt super guilty that I didn’t tell. But I can see now it’s survival. The abuse would have gotten worse and I can only imagine the punishment.
So now I have a life of my own. My Christmas tree (small it may be) is up and so are the light. I’m still in the tunnel, but closer to the other side.