Where to begin?

It was just over a week ago I reached out to the forum and found the right place to tell my story. It's not life changing, but it is mine.

Until about 2014 I had one of the easiest lives imaginable. I don't say this to brag, just to acknowledge it. My experiences and battles with trauma could be relegated to the sidelines while others say "Oh poor baby. You think that's bad?" But that's not the kind of place this is. It's the reason I came here to share.

If you've ever watched/listened to the Broadway Show In the Heights, you'll understand where I'm coming from pretty quickly. There is a song, Breathe, all about the girl who was gonna do it all. That was me. Top of my class, high ACT score, and learning came easy. I was never a good athlete, but I never missed a game, and my friends on the court knew I was there to support them. I was in marching band, but somehow still popular. I had the love and support of my hometown and I loved and appreciated them for it. I had my pick of colleges; for grad school I moved halfway across the country to get the exact education I wanted. And I exceled. I was the firecracker racing into the sky.

I'm not that anymore. I still have the love and support of those around me. But nothing comes easy anymore. I'm not a bright sparkle in the sky. I'm simply the exploded shell. Spent. All the color is burned off and I am fragmented. I'm only just now realizing how long I've been battling demons. In fact, when I started this I thought the starting point was 2019. No. Further back than that. So much time floundering about.

I'm learning much of this later than most of you. I didn't know how to pace myself. I had no idea how to tread emotional waters, just keeping my head above the surface. I've always flown; I don't have the skills to be a fish. I'm learning. I am (hopefully) no longer drowning. Sharing myself is an important step. It took me a long time to admit how much I had been hurting. I survived, so "it wasn't that bad." Or "It could have been worse." My body kept track, though. Years of pain piling up inside of me that will no longer be ignored. And so begins the most miserable set of "Once Upon a Times..." Next time, though. Enough sharing for today.