"Every cell in the body is destroyed and replaced every seven years. How comforting it is to know someday I'll have a body you will have never touched" - Kate Scott

There is a moment I remember; a moment forever etched in the landscape of my life: I am standing in my bathroom and I am looking in the mirror. I’m wondering who the person is, looking back at me where my reflection should be. A stranger stares at me; a stranger with empty, soulless eyes, and I wonder who she is and how she got into my house, and then slowly she starts to become somewhat familiar until, finally, I realize I am looking at my own reflection.   

A moment.  

One moment where time has stopped, where the world has stopped, where the universe has held her breath so that I might breathe and for a moment there is nothing.   

And then I inhale.  

It's been 6 years since that moment in the bathroom and 5 years since I left the man I crawled back into bed with after I finally exhaled. The details of those years are slowly starting to be replaced with happy, new memories and the old memories are gradually losing their power over me, but every once in awhile I return, frozen, to my previous state of existence. I return to nothingness, to numb, to dissociation. I return to nightmares and isolation. Every once in awhile I find myself drinking too much wine and staring off into space or cowering around raised voices; every once in awhile, by the grace of a God more divine than I can imagine, I am pulled back from the brink, reminded of my freedom. Saved. Sometimes it's the voice of a family member, a friend, a stranger. Most often it's the still small voice that calls me from within; the sound of the still small voice that saved me then and saves me everyday.   

It's not at all an easy thing to admit that you have become a statistic; that you have joined the ranks of hundreds of thousands of others, persecuted daily, fearing for your survival on many different levels. It was not and is not easy for me to admit to myself that I spent 3 years too many in an abusive relationship, the price of which was all too steep.  As a confident, intelligent, fun & loving young woman I put my trust in an untrustworthy person. I was broken down to a level of raw that most people can't even imagine, a level where flesh becomes torn and ripped from the body, exposing bones and fragility, exposing the soul. My life became an unimaginable torture chamber. My body became a cage. My soul grew as small as possible and when that wasn't small enough it did the only thing it could do, it left. For three years I lived an existence but not a life.   

And then one day, in the midst of the chaos, a quiet stillness surrounded me, a hesitation. Another moment. But this time it was different, this time from within me, and all around me, I heard that still small voice commanding me. "Enough! Now run!” And I did. I ran as fast as I could and as I ran I found the voices of my family, my loved ones, my friends, and fellow survivors speaking for me when I couldn't. I learned that the voices of my family and friends had been collaborating on how to help me, on how to intervene, on how to get me out. I learned that the voices of strangers had come together, to lift me up and carry me through my darkest hours through prayer lines activated by family members. Others had given me a voice at a time when I had lost my own and when my voice returned, they continued to advocate on my behalf, to educate others and to share my journey. Even today they speak for those still out there, unable to find their own voice.  And today I officially join them.

  

On January 21, 2015 at 4-something in the afternoon, it will be 6 years since I found my voice, 6 years since I ran. 

Some days I wonder if I'll ever be able to recapture the parts of myself I left behind and still other days I wonder if it's not better to be without them. Most days I am overwhelmingly grateful for the gift that I was given, for the strength I was able to find and for the amazing people in my life who loved me through all of it. Most days I am overwhelmingly grateful for that still small voice that somehow managed to speak loud enough for me to finally hear it.  

"Every cell in the body is destroyed and replaced every seven years. How comforting it is to know someday I'll have a body you will have never touched" - Kate Scott  

One year to go.  

  

All my relations, 

absolutely every single one of you,

Thank you.

Mandy