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Life After Abuse
When I was in college, my Cross Country coach told the Women’s team in pre season one summer, that if we could make it through the first few weeks, our bodies would adapt. Lactic acid basically builds up and feels like complete shit working through a person’s body, especially running hard with a decent amount of build up. He was a good coach; he took runners to the Olympic Games. I trusted him. He would come up with plans for each of us, how much to lift, how much to rest. He checked in with us everyday to see how we were feeling. He was an excellent coach. Running with him I lost weight without trying, built muscle, dropped times like crazy. I did feel terrible those first few weeks. But then, my body did adapt, I did heal, and I did ultimately become very strong.
About a decade later, I found myself in a hole in the wall club in Northwest Indiana. I had gotten there because of things I had endured and things I had survived. I want to be clear, I was never a victim. I still am not. I am a survivor.
Over the years I bounced around different states and different clubs and late night establishments as a bartender, a waitstaff, and a dancer. I raised my youngest son alone and I made money while I put myself through school. The compounded stressors of having survived violence and unhealthy relationship dynamics not once, but multiple times, in multiple ways, took their toll. By the time the…
