I believe once we pick up the plowed over paper doll, flattened by years of torment after sexual abuse and all the ramifications that usually involves, we can dust her off, stand her up, and help her bloom and grow.
No one else will. Others can help. But one must believe. Even if that belief is just a flutter deep down in the heart of the soul, covered by the muck of another’s cruel hand or touch, it is there if we look, and if you are willing to work very hard to find her.
Inspired by Telling Heavy Secrets post today!