One Wee Spark

I rarely just copy and paste something here that I haven't had anything to do with the creation of, but this one is visually appealing and it carries with it interesting statistics and resources.

Something happened today that I never really believed would ever happen. It's been a long, long path to this day, this moment...but today all the tears, heartbreak, shame, pain, and sleepless nights paid off. My mom and I sat in the counselor's office and realized that we almost have worked through the past enough to be "healthy" in a relationship together. We laughed, we shared dreams, and she gave me her blessing to tell the truth--the whole truth and nothing but the truth--as I go to reach out and help others in similar situations. I am not afraid to tell my mother the truth anymore. I realized today as we spoke, I felt no anxiety or panic rising up in my gut as I spoke my truth. She heard me. She understood. She is willing to see me, my reality, and accept it was different than what she saw. And I am too. And as I sit here thankful, pondering this moment that I once believed was not even a good fairytale, I'm reminded of a song that really moves me, "Bles...

Many times along the journey to healing and joy I got discouraged. There were days that just facing the past, not even trying to make heads or tails of it, just seemed like too much. The video in my head of past events often seemed to get stuck in repeat mode, and it weighed me down like a boulder on my chest. It hurt and it seemed to be keeping me from breathing. Someone had warned me that the journey would be tough. "The best things in life aren't easy," another reminded me. The therapist reminded me that someday the pain would be different. But at the moment I was sinking in it, all I could see was the red hot searing pain and the charcoal, smoky blackness of my despair. See the thing is, I learned as a kid that one of two things must be true about myself: 1. I was not enough to be worth it; 2. I was too much to be tolerated. It's the same old black-and-white, all-or-nothing thinking that affects so many children raised in homes with dysfunction, addictions, hoardi...

I must apologize for being late to post this, but I know that there will be another round of surveys in this research project. As far as I know, Dr. Chabaud is the first to study directly the effects on children who have grown up with a parent who hoards. COH Research Project I am participating, and I encourage each of you who has the same kind of background to do the same. It may be tough to answer some of the questions, I know. I pray that the hope for a recovery program for those of us survivors--COH--is worth the pain of talking about the dark, dirty secret!