EMDR

Today I finally made the appointment.

On August 5th, I'll sit down with a therapist and begin EMDR therapy to start working through my childhood trauma.

If you're just tuning in, I've spent the entire summer writing my book. As I've been writing and talking with my sister, I've realized just how much of my childhood is missing. My brain did what it had to do to protect me from everything that was happening.

Don't get me wrong—I remember a lot. Bits and pieces. Half stories. Moments that are burned into my memory. But I want to know the whole story. I want to remember the faces, the reasons, the things my little brain tucked away just to survive.

I kept journals all through high school, so I have those memories in my own words. Ironically, once I reached high school, life got so much better. But my little girl self never really processed everything that happened before that.

I've spent most of my life believing I wasn't enough.

I've struggled with self-esteem. I've never been very good at communicating my feelings, my needs, or even my wants. I never learned how to value myself because, somewhere along the way, I stopped believing I had value.

Last year I had a cancer scare, and it changed something in me.

It made me think about the kind of mother I want to be. The kind of wife. The kind of friend. But most importantly... the kind of woman I want to become.

I want to love myself.

I want to believe I deserve the same kindness I give everyone else.

That has been the hardest part.

This year I've been showing up for myself every single day. I've been taking workout classes, sweating, lifting heavier, running farther, and eating better. I've cut out almost all the junk food (although I'm still keeping my weekend margaritas and lemon drops because balance matters 😂).

I've lost 20 pounds.

I've gained a ridiculous amount of muscle.

I'm stronger than I've ever been.

At 45 years old, with asthma, I can run a 12-minute mile—even if I walk three of those minutes. And I'm proud of that.

But here's the crazy part...

I still hate what I see in the mirror.

I still convince myself I need to lose more weight, work harder, run faster, and lift heavier before I'm "good enough."

Meanwhile, my husband has never been more obsessed with me. We joke that it only took him 26 years to fall in love all over again. He tells me he's in love with my confidence.

I laugh because I honestly don't see the confidence he's talking about.

Maybe that's exactly why I'm starting EMDR.

Maybe the little girl inside me is still carrying things that the grown woman in me shouldn't have to carry anymore.

I talk about this journey so openly because maybe if I keep saying these things out loud, one day my brain will finally believe them.

My goal is still to lose another 20 pounds. This week my period reminded me who's really in charge, and the scale jumped up five pounds overnight. 🤦🏼‍♀️ So I seem to bounce between being 15 and 20 pounds down.

But this journey has never really been about the scale.

It's about healing.

It's about breaking cycles.

It's about becoming healthy enough to chase my grandbabies around without getting tired.

And maybe... just maybe...

One day, when I look in the mirror, I'll finally see what everyone else seems to see.

A beautiful little girl who survived.

And a strong woman who finally learned she was worthy all along. ❤️