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.