Sand in my Toes

Spent yesterday with my daughter at the lakefront in Indiana.  I could see the skyline of Chicago in the distance and felt the tiniest pang of sadness and ick.  While I live in suburbia, James is a city boy and so much of the abuse I experienced happened there.


I was worried this weekend would be particularly hard as my son is traveling  in Europe for two weeks with his high school band.  And my teenage daughter most often has (as she should) plans with her friends.  So the weekends can be the hardest for me.  The quiet moments feel overwhelming at times.  It’s those moments where I force myself to remember the Jenny I was and that she has lightness and purpose.

My life was with James was miserable and small.  I love that I can jump in my car and go wherever I want.  I love that I can meet my friends for dinner and drinks or a walk in the woods.  I love that I can spend a peaceful day with my daughter at the dunes.  All without fear, suspicion, anxiety and control from someone whose goal was to delight in abusing me.  To breathe in and out without heaviness and fear is freedom.  I will never give that up.

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