The Paradox of Sharing

I am reblogging this post by Alexis Rose, because I believe that most trauma survivors can relate to the dilemma of trying to figure out how much you should share about your history with acquaintances, friends, and family members. I imagine that most of us have experienced that awkward moment where you’re on the verge of jumping into a conversation about a particular place, or a holiday, or being a certain age, or going through a rite of passage — but you keep your thoughts to yourself, because you know that what you were about to say will have the effect of a stinky skunk crashing a dinner party.

Comments are closed here, please visit and comment on Alexis’ blog. Thanks for stopping by and God Bless!

PS: In case you’ve been wondering about what happened to Part Two of Finding My Father — I’m still working up the courage to write it…. 😂

Untangled

I watched a travel show the other day where the host went to a country where I had also visited. The show was fabulous and I was completely engaged. Although about five minutes into the episode I noticed that there was also a part of me that was thoughtfully activated. Although I was enjoying the repartee the host was having with the locals, an uneasy quiet settled deep inside because the memories of what happened to me, were the opposite of what was being shown on screen as a happy tourist destination. For sure, the places that he was promoting ARE  happy tourist destinations, they just weren’t for me. I was forced to travel to that location, and that experience forever changed how I view the world.

As I watched the episode, I felt validated that the places I had remembered going to were the places he was also visiting…

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