I often question the road I am on.
If I made the right decision to walk away or if I should have stayed knowing I would be the sacrificial lamb.
When I saw the heartbeat and what appeared to be a fuzzy and quite little gummy bear thriving inside of me I knew I had to leave.
My mind and body have never truly connected because of the abuse I endured and still in many ways don’t today.
My mind would howl at me while my feet would get lost in the quicksand he had meticulously built around my fragile body.
My heart, my mind, and my little gummy bear were more important than passing on a chain of sexual abuse.
I slowly began to pick up the pieces, but it came at a gloomy price most days.
I work hard, I write often, but I still have a lot of lingering pain.
In fact Sunday evening I found myself crying and with each blink, I felt scared. I have many nights where the fear of the past causes me to dread the night.
I become blind and vulnerable to everything around me and each noise I hear triggers hopelessness for the safety of my son.
As I grow and accomplish more than I ever have in my life, the night creeps in sometimes to remind me that I still have work to do.
I believe it is so important to address how far abuse survivors have come, but it is also important to note how it may never fully heal.
My writing is what keeps me going and helps me fight through the sleepless nights, but it doesn’t erase the past.
I hope I can help encourage others to write about the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Let’s face the night together.
Nunzia Stark is a Park University Alumni and a former elementary educator. She is a free…