Wednesday, May 7, 2014


I wrote a post on Monday about a flashback I had over the weekend, and here is what has fascinated me about it. As always, it helped put some things in perspective. Just getting the words out in a coherent pattern. Processing by typing. Friends who read the post via Facebook have been incredibly supportive, and no one has told me I did anything wrong by sharing so openly (my expectation every time I write specifically about the abuse). The post had more hits in a single day than any other I have ever written -- but not one single comment on the blog itself. 

I wonder why that is. Who are those people reading about my trauma? Are they other survivors contemplating their own stories? Are they people who had no idea things like that happened in "nice" families? Are they just people with a prurient interest? I don't know. And the likelihood is I will never know for sure.

But all that wondering brings me back to something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Connections. I crave connections and yet am terrified -- even repelled at times -- by the thought of putting myself out there to connect with other people. Because real, true connections require risks. The risk of being real in another's presence knowing that they may not reciprocate with their own "realness". 

When I started on this path of healing one of the things I feared was that by sharing my story I would somehow be giving other people ammunition to use against me. That my history would be used to prove my invalidity. I was terrified of having the tables turned on me and rugs pulled out from beneath my feet. And yes, it has happened a few times. But so many more times I have received validation and acceptance beyond my ability to comprehend. By risking being real I have given others the opportunity to be real in return and I have received so much more than I have risked. 

I am going to keep risking -- by telling my story, by being honest about my wants and needs, by being kind -- because the potential connections are worth it.

linking up with Just Write and Imperfect Prose


  1. Melanie,
    I know what you mean about when you share the most vulnerable part of yourself, and are often met with silence. That of course, in turn, creates more angst and insecurities in us. In my opinion, I don't think it a problem with people, but more the reality or the short-arm of social networking. Two or three sentences typed out in a comment box will never be able to convey the depth of feel of personal, raw emotions. Bloggers are for the most part, more reflective, the writers, the sensitive type. A quick "like" or "praying for ya sister"- the usual extent of content on fb comments- feels shallow and lame to sensitive writers. Trust that if your post was spirit-led it found it's mark somewhere, for someone. It's easier said then done, I still struggle with it big time, but if we are really led to be writers of truth we cannot seek validation in stats and comments.It makes us sitting ducks for the enemy to fill us with shame and feelings of failure. I hope this helps. Blessings on your journey.

  2. I often think the same, when I am most raw and revealing I get no replies -- later I have heard "I had no words to add, what you shared need to stand alone, untouched"
    Perhaps that is what happens here too!

  3. As a blogger, I felt your pain and immediately went to read the article and comment on it but after I read it I was at a loss for words.
    As mentioned above, I could not find anything to say that didn't feel shallow or lame. Do not take it personally. It is a complicated and moving piece that stands strong all by itself.


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