set yourself free

Part of the recovery process is taking back ownership of your body from the people that hurt you. I have spent so much of my life hating my body. When a boy snapped the strap on my training bra for the first time in fifth grade, to those months shrouded in darkness where I let a man dictate everything about me—from my personal hygiene routine to my wardrobe, and everything else in between. It's all the scars that we wear as women and are just expected to cover up, keep wrapped up tightly in shame and survivor's guilt and our own brokenness. What happens if we unwrap those scars and let them breathe?

Some of the scars have faded, are just broken lines of scar tissue that don't hurt to talk about anymore as long as you don't dig too deep. Ask me about the first time I ever felt broken and I'll tell you about my sophomore year of high school when all I did was listen to Mayday Parade on repeat and walk around like a zombie. My nights were consumed by flashbacks to a little pup tent, tossing and turning to try and forget what had happened. My days were consumed by glances across the cafeteria, panic attacks in chemistry class because seeing him at school every day was too much for my exhausted psyche to handle. One by one, I pushed all my people away from me. I stopped going to family gatherings because he might be there. My boyfriend of almost three years broke up with me. After that, my group of friends dropped off one after the next when I basically became a shut-in and only left the house when my grandma needed me to go to the grocery store or the bank.

Everything changed during junior year. I got my license the week after school started and was afforded a tiny slice of freedom and independence from everything I was trying to run away from. Driving around the back roads I know by heart with the windows down and music up became my sanctuary, my church, my safe place where I could sing along to Death Cab for Cutie and let some of the brokenness escape. Those drives gave me the space and the time I needed to be by myself and think through all the junk in my head. To get to that point in Mrs. Lovrine's Family Living and Parenting class, the day that we were talking about abusive relationships and all the red flags that everyone swears up and down that they remember but don't ever see, where I had decided enough was enough. It was time to stop letting "sad, broken, lonely girl" be my story.

I had a flashback right there in the middle of class. Eyes wide open, and still unable to see anything but the darkness of that damn pup tent. Not feeling the chair I was actually sitting on beneath me. What I was actually feeling was how cold the tarp was underneath us; it felt like icicles to bare skin. All I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, trying to will myself to Just. Move. Like it was happening all over again. The worst part was always the end: both of us tucked in separate sleeping bags back in the cabin, him just whispering my name into oblivion while everyone else was asleep. When the bell rang for lunch, I darted to the guidance office and requested a meeting with my guidance counselor. November 26, 2008, was the day that changed my life forever. For the first time, I took ownership of my brokenness.

Taking ownership over my body again has come slowly over the years. I always end up in the woods of shame, disoriented and wondering why I ever thought I was worth it at all. Ten minutes of "fake it till you make it" confidence in my underwear always turned into at least three days of depression naps and Netflix marathons. The last few years, I've made a conscious effort to try to view myself in a different light. I'm not in the woods anymore, buried under lies and deceit and shame that comes from scars I am not ready to reopen quite yet. The most important revelation I have come to is that I am finally able to see myself as a sexual being instead of a sexual object. I can't even begin the describe the sense of freedom that comes from that switch.

Celebrate yourself in the body you are in right now, scars and all. Your past doesn't define your worth here and now. The memories that make you stronger can only hurt you if you let them (stop letting them). Take back their power over you and rewrite the story. You get to choose the ending. Forgive yourself. Choose grace and joy and light over the darkness of your shame and guilt. In the end, they will help you to secure the foundation of the life you're going to build with your own two hands. You will rise up one more time and say, "What's next?"

You're in the light now. You're here.