A person whose heart is full of demons cannot be your guardian angel because they have no angel in their heart to give.
I would love to say that the abuse in my uncle’s home was the only traumatic experience of my prepubescent or that the beginning of my adult life was any better. But as detailed in ‘Rhea’s Story ( BUT HE CALLS ME BLESSED! When the Unbelievable Happens to Believers), the journey through life is rarely ever that simple. As such, because of the different traumas I encountered before I was even twenty, I lived apologetically for most of my young life. I second-guessed every one of my decisions, nit-picked every aspect of myself, and was my own worst critique. I thought I was making myself ‘better’ by so doing. But the ‘better’ was always for the good of others rather than mine. I excused the inexcusable and kept mum over things that screamed to be spoken out. For peace and harmony’s sake was my reasoning.
And so by the time I entered my twenties, I was a broken young girl. Grieved. And filled with fear. No one knew of my inner angst. I did such an excellent job of covering it all up that most of the time, those who thought they knew me could only describe this ‘hyper-active, always-on-the-go, never-could-sit-still-for-a-moment’ girl whenever someone asked them who I was. The external I chose to present was all they knew about me, which was very little when all was said and done.
