I’m so proud of you

{photo credit: Sandesh Virwani}
The other day, Karl gave me a spontaneous hug and said he was so proud of me for standing up for myself to my family. He told me he admired my spunk. He told me he now understood why it was that I talked so much about my past and how it hurt me. Before, he didn’t understand why I brought up the topic so much and he worried I would discuss it for the next 60 years. He said he now realizes it’s because I thought my childhood, the abuse and the cult were normal…. up until a year ago. And that my talking about it was because I just suddenly recently realized that it wasn’t normal for the first time in my life.

He said he was proud of me. After all we’ve been through, all the male suppression of myself as a female, all the fighting, all the hands clamped over my mouth for speaking up.

I am free to speak my mind, free to listen to my heart, free to breathe and be.

He’s glad I didn’t let him go merrily along in that cult that I introduced him to.

He’s glad I stood up for myself, even against him when he was blind.

He’s proud of me.

He’s proud of me.

He’s proud of me.


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