I put myself into over load.  My body fought back and won.  I slept through most of the weekend.  Missed out on Easter activities, visiting with family and writing posts.  So what happened? Every year in Early Childhood Education there is a unit on abuse, specifically child abuse.  I spend a day talking to students about life after abuse.  Just because it happened doesn’t mean that I will become an abuser.  Tough stuff, especially when during the conversation a student realizes that they are being abused.  I then spent the week researching websites and information for those that want more than what I told them.  I thought I was doing pretty well until I realized I hadn’t posted in a week and my body packed it in and quit.  I do believe the information is important but immersing myself in my past and point out that there is hope for healing leaves me drained.  I don’t regret my choice.  I remind myself that I know the cost.  Heavy sigh.  I am working at counter balancing this drain with creativity projects with my crocheting and grand kids.  It helps.  I don’t feel like I am spiraling down but I certainly feel like I was pulled through a knot hole backwards.  I accept this is how I feel from a large amount of sharing.  My counselor warned me and forewarned me how difficult it would be to share my story in a group.  Online, in my blogs, I can pace myself.  Walk away after 10 minutes. Wait a week or two before posting again.  Scroll on by when I see a post I am not ready to address.  In a small group there is a time commitment, there is the immediate reaction from students, and yes, sometimes there are tears.  I’ll do it again, why?  Because I want people to know there is life after trauma, your past does not define you, and you can choose to learn healthy living skills.