It has a name
I have been MIA. Things have been busy, I have been working which is awesome, dealing with virtual schooling (not so awesome) and of course therapy. I have continued with that and have been making progress. It's weird that every time I share something from my childhood that deals with trauma, my therapist says "you are doing great!" It's weird because never did I think that sharing this kind of stuff would be good.
I am not one to share the intimate details of my childhood. I feel better showing off that I had a safe and almost perfect life. But more and more I am noticing the facade is cracking a bit. Talking about my home life, I see it as a blurry image. A dream, like it never happened but it did. Being forthright about my past is hard. Being vulnerable make me feel fragile; like the moment the words leave my lips I will break. My world will crumble. I need to though for my sake, the sake of my family. I want them to see me whole again.