Shards of Healing   

MY life was a hopeless morass of pain, torment, shame, and despair from when I was very young and into adulthood. When my marriage and my parenting flailed, I was convinced that it was all a result of my shortcomings. Until I was introduced to people and methods that helped me cope with my trauma and put me on the path to emotional healing.

My father died four years ago, from Covid. I didn’t grieve his death; I grieved something much, much bigger.

I’m starting my story in the middle because that’s how it comes back to me — in fragments. There’s no sequence. That’s how it is when trauma defines the fabric of your life.

I grew up without ever knowing my father, never having any inkling of the person he was beneath all the violence. His uncontrollable rage formed the essence of my childhood, and much of my adult life, too.