“It was a fairy tale until it wasn’t.” This is what came to mind when I thought about my twenties and thirties. I’d pasted over the real stories as though they were generic captions in a family photo album. “Philip,” “Christmas,” and “Guatemala.” The titles alluded to events that were shocking and almost always dangerous, but I’d put these memories in a box and hidden them in the back of my emotional closet. A life I kept secret. One that made it hard to make friends with people who had families, children, and conventional jobs.
Looking back, I’m amazed I survived any of it, and it makes me sad to think how close I came to losing myself. How sometimes I did things not because I wanted to—things that weren’t always in my best interest—but because I wanted to please my first husband.
My second husband made me feel safe, something that had been only a word in the dictionary, and he gave me the courage to share my story. Writing this book has helped me embrace the parts of myself I surrendered in order to be loved. The ones that allowed me to swallow the worst days of my life for fear of being judged.
I’ve written this book for everyone who’s been afraid to tell their story because speaking your truth is the most valuable power you have. I have a Top 10 Blog for women over 50, 1010ParkPlace.com.