Today I’m thankful for my poetry. How carefully I choose my words. I’m thankful for readers who hear the sound of my voice and recognize the authentic me.
I’m thankful that whatever happens going forward I’ll be OK. In the context of my recovery from childhood abuse, OK means I’m safe from harm. Trauma has a way of making the whole world feel unsafe, and relief from anxiety can feel impossible. But something’s changed recently. Something powerful. I feel comfortable in my own skin.
After years of practicing mindfulness, I know how to soothe myself. In stressful situations I remember to slow down and catch my breath. Today I’m free to move through the world at my own pace, open to hope and creativity.
As for my abuser, fuck him. Has he published four books? What does he know about poetry?