Since I was little, I've been called picky. When I was old enough to try new things — I didn't.
In the new life, the girl who was assaulted and abused is a memory. I'm not her. But she is me.
Back in 2001 my divorce attorney was telling me I had a story that needed to be shared. But I wasn't ready.
The worst part is when I don't recognize my own words, or don't recall typing them out or writing them down. At all.
My first day of recovery was The Day I Didn't Die. This year I'm celebrating 20 years of a new life.