Growing up in poverty in rural Missouri, I found comfort in rolling thunderstorms, fireflies light up the forest, cicadas, and swimming in the muddy lake near my childhood home. The home I grew up in lacked running water and had holes in the roof and floor. Neglect put me in danger—from my community, lack of medical care, and siblings who struggled with addiction and/or perpetuated abuse they experienced. To cope, I would have long conversations with a make-believe adult self who understood and reminded me that somehow we’ll get through it.
Despite all odds, I attended community college and then a university and finally received my masters degree, often struggling to have food and stable housing.
As I became an adult, I found myself re-creating traumatic patterns. I found myself in relationships again and again that felt neither loving nor present. Healing is the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. I had to learn for the first time that I was/am deserving of kindness and processed what happened to me. I had to learn to set boundaries and accept that other’s experience of my boundaries as “selfish” or “mean” was not the truth of who I am.
Today, I am working to continue to sink into the safety of my life now, while allowing myself space for the eb and flow of grief of past trauma. I live modestly in a little blue house with a large native and vegetable garden in Vancouver, WA. I live with my wife- Kate, our two dogs- Ari and Juniper, and cat- Maple.
Returning home to yourself is a lifelong journey. We don’t move on from the things that have hurt us and when we accept that we can’t undo pain, we can create the most beautiful versions of our life now.
Trauma is often colored by a feeling of aloneness. You didn’t deserve to be alone then and you don’t deserve to hold carry your trauma alone now. It is honor, genuinely, to watch survivors of trauma and abuse heal and create beautiful lives with loving and meaningful relationships.
Being here is brave. I am rooting for you on your journey.