BROWSE
Trauma and Mental Health
I couldn’t breathe. It didn’t make any sense until my therapist asked me a simple question that made me realize that finding my voice meant losing my breath.
I couldn’t sleep.
I had just received a letter in the mail, one that I had been waiting for, for almost 18 months. And, the day had finally arrived.
“But Becky, I got away…”
That’s what I told her.
I had been in therapy with her for years, discussing my childhood molestation and the sexual assault while serving in Pensacola and the and harassment that followed in the aftermath. But this. This I never told her. Because. Well, because, I got away.
Have you ever had something happen to you that was so profound that you knew, just knew, it was God who was intervening? I did. And, no one will ever be able to tell me that it was anything, but God. He was there with me that night. Right there in my room. Not in the sense that He’s always with us, everywhere – the omnipresent God, but in the sense that He was physically with me. God sat at my bedside one night in the early spring of 1986.
Popcorn almost destroyed my marriage. Seriously, it did. And, we’d only been married for a few short months. We just celebrated our 32nd anniversary on June 5th, so you know what? Popcorn didn’t win!
I have a junk drawer; I even have a junk cupboard – places for things that don’t have a place. And, I had a dare-I-say-it, junk room. I hated it. As I cleaned the rest of the house things that didn’t have a permanent place just kept getting thrown into this room. A room that has had several purposes over the last 7 years: a formal dining room, a makeshift office, a nursery, a craft room. I want it to be my office space. A nice office with a real desk and real storage, but first I need to wrap my head around what to do with all the stuff that is in there now.