I’m starting the final proof on my book today–and you get to hear a sneak preview of the introductory letter! Yay! Can’t wait for April 2nd and the launch of Normal For Me!
Here is the text of the letter at the beginning of my book, dedicated to you, the reader. Hopefully it will give you a taste of what is to come.
The Letter at the Beginning of My Book
Thank you for taking this journey with me. This truly has been a labor of love to write. There were many times when my editor would ask me to dive in and share more details. I recall one evening telling my husband, “I honestly don’t remember.”
Have you ever had that happen with something painful and awful? That is called repression. My brain literally repressed the memories—buried them deep and threw away the key. I was in survival mode at the time, and years later, I could not recall how I made it through—only that I did. So, I had to pull up what little journaling I had done and read about those years. What I read made me remember—and weep. Yeah. There is a reason I had forgotten how awfully hard it was . . . and there was a reason I still didn’t want to remember. It was hell. It was like trying to remember the battle scenes of my life. I didn’t want to remember. But I did.
I remembered and wrote this in the hope that some person out there battling through life and struggling to survive day by day will know they are not alone. They will know that someone else has waged a similar war before and survived. I wrote my heart into these pages with one thought, that it would give someone hope—hope that they too can survive, that they too can make it one more day, and then the next. That they too can lean on God in the darkest times of their lives and that He can help them get through it. That is the only way I made it through. Sometimes one minute at a time, one day at a time, and then on to what eventually became a month and then a year. And then someday, like I did, hopefully they too will look back and think, “How did I survive that soul-wrenching experience?” And they won’t remember. No, like me they won’t remember the details, but they will remember that it was awful and it was hard.
I must confess that remembering has filled me with gratitude to God for getting me through.
So, let’s get to the story that I have tried so hard to forget, because it is a story worth sharing after all. I wish I could paint myself as a hero, but I am going to write what really happened, and sometimes I was weak and felt angry, exhausted, and numb. So, forgive me for being imperfect. I was and am a work in progress.