To be in the presence – in the age of such courageous women and supportive men. It’s a grace.

To face and deal with the repercussions and echoes of having personal boundaries breached as both a preteen and then again as a twenty something employee. And to not have the public and family structure in place to feel safe in the telling.

To be on your own building as functional a way of living as you can from such a young age. To in your thirties begin unraveling all the confused and jumbled stitching in need of pulling out and starting over.

To try and do your best as a young and loving parent to raise your own children safely enough to keep them from having to deal with similar breaching while you yourself feel utterly confused as to why you don’t trust, why you feel worthless, why you act in ways that keep others at a distance, why you feel you can never get too close.

And to forever ache and yearn for the ease, self-assuredness and unconscious innocence that others so naturally acquire simply by never having those personal boundaries breached.

And to accept that will never be for you.

And to accept that for you closeness will forever be a conscious effort – and one well worth the making.