Here’s the thing.

Alot has happened in the last two years. Externally and internally. It’s like there is a ‘Before’, and an ‘After’, and I can’t go back.

July 2019….

At 43 I had for years researched and plundered the depths of my psychology and understood logically what happened through a difficult childhood.

I had pushed on, understanding that I had built my life as a survivor, so that I might do just that - survive. But I was stuck in other ways. I felt bound and squeezed in by my own mantras and the relief I hoped to feel after ‘doing the work’ and becoming more educated about childhood trauma did not come. I felt bound forever by the secret that I was part of a very public story. It affected so much of my life, but I couldn’t share it. Still afraid and not free. The gravity and magnitude of the extended story was unknown even to me.

As a notorious perpetrator’s release loomed I knew I had to do everything I could to keep him from harming more families. This was the extent of my motivation until I realised the opportunity that was here for me - to change a trajectory that felt inevitable. I could subvert the stories I had heard in the news for so many years, the ones that would be logged forever in time. I could level up my visibility and going forward, remember my own acts of courage on those days, rather than the cruel and crippling damage inflicted. This was intoxicating.

I was in.