I recently purchased the book The Courage to Heal, and no joke, it is the size of a phone book. I didn't know healing was so effortful. Well, I did, but still...600 pages of healing? All this because I was molested as a kid. I also purchased its accompanying workbook, which is of similar size. Sigh. I hide the book from my mother like it's porn. It's not porn, but I guess just as shameful. I dunno. Sexual abuse is an enigma. A fucking life changing and socially taboo enigma. Fuck. As if there are people in this world who don't recognize the sacredness of the body. That don't understand that every cell, every layer is property of the owner. Every fucking cell. And those people don't realize what their unwanted, un-asked for touches do to its owner. They don't see that every touch is a scar. Every mental coercion and suppression is a year of life not lived to it's fullest, because in the back of the owner's mind is a pervasive, ominous fear. And apparently, it takes a phonebook of healing to rid the owner of this fear. The only thing is, how do you free yourself from part of yourself? Let's say fear is all you know. Fear was there when no other emotion was. You know fear, and it knows you. Dysfunctional relationship, yet symbiotic. It's so present that you have become numb to its stimulus. Now let's say, that that fear is some how healed, conquered, dissolved. What's left? A void? I can't afford anymore voids, sorry book. But, let's say that with the absence of fear comes serenity or some other cool calm and collected shit. How do you go from having those touches reverberating in your senses, to tranquility? I guess I'm just a little skeptical of being able to heal from this. And it's not cause I've never healed before. I healed from OCD, divorce, bulimia, suicide attempts, and a broken heart. But this is different. It requires a new kind of strength and faith entirely.