"Dana, your surgery is over now. Everything went very well."

I opened my eyes and struggled to process this information. The searing pain emanating from my abdomen needed no substantiation. It was was unmistakable.

Free me from this pain.

The next thing I remember was the feeling of someone holding my hand and gently kissing my cheek. It was my sweet Will. My forever love. The man who has always made everything okay.

Except this PAIN!

Day 1 was a blur. On day 2 I began to make connections, and was lucid enough to begin understanding my location on the externally determined, hopeful plan of my physical recovery. What they didn't know was I am different. I do not ever adhere to "the expected norm," because I am wired to prove things both to myself and others.

I am strong, I endure. I am a survivor.

Many might never know that the root of this strength is the shear tenacity that accompanies it. I wear my "tenacity badge" every day. It is my sweet survival song when I'd rather cry than sing. It is my "reroute button" when I am lost. It is my gravity when I am on uncertain ground. It forces me to walk when I am too tired to even crawl. It is my "Things A through Z" I keep safely tucked within my Cat in the Hat's hat.

Tenacity has been my life-long friend. It was the hands that held my fractured heart together when at the tender age of 16 my parents found my diary and read back to me. Oh, yes. That was just one of many occasions where the flame I call "tenacity" appeared like a wind swell in a heatwave, serving as a serendipitous reminder; my abusers didn't know I was a seed. Seeds are tenacious too. When they are buried they tend to grow.

Still, tenacity alone can't numb physical or emotional pain. Bandaids stem the oozing while conveniently concealing a wound. Even after scar tissue granulates over the wound, the pain may linger until true healing happens.

Mind you, I'm hardly an amateur when it comes to healing. As a matter of fact, I've been in the process of healing for roughly 30 years. Maybe I could be even qualify as a pro at this point. Funny, but I think there are many other areas of expertise I'd rather claim; sewing, cooking, and, especially gardening. Watching things take root, flourish and flower makes my soul dance. It provides yet another chance for me to nurture both my cottage gardens and my soul.

But these days, my focus is directed toward the physical, post-surgical healing that will hopefully be a short-term endeavor. While I try to make rest a priority, I recognize these truths:
Both physical and emotional healing significantly affect the body and there is no accurate timeline for the duration of either type of healing. Most importantly it is erroneously believed that the evidence of physical abuse is much more tangible and therefore concrete than the impalpable, subjective carnage left in the wake of emotional abuse. My experience with both tells me that although subjective, healing from emotional abuse requires significantly more effort and time. Scars and bruises fade. Shrapnel from emotional abuse, while lodged and embedded deep below the surface, bombards our being on so many levels. Healing takes more than physical therapy. It can take years of psychological therapy. The pain incurred is far worse than birthing my 5 babies WITHOUT ANESTHESIA, apart from one. Especially exhausting, pain eases and lessens with rest. Emotional abuse is an entirely different animal; it is the famished fox that waits by the chicken coop from dusk till dawn, ready and waiting to devour all it can- until the coop and the soul are empty. Lifeless.

So where do we go from here? How do we apply the tourniquet for both kinds of healing and survival? We REACH OUT for help. We look under, around and over the pain to see what options lie ahead. We remind ourselves that because we are still here, we are survivors! We are the seeds that grew despite drought and devoid of care.

As Voltaire once said, "happiness is cultivating your garden." Grow you roots and thrive. Do not be afraid to flower! And when you are tired, rest. Healing is not for the faint of heart. Even when the flesh is weak, the soul remains strong!

No matter what, be generous! That's what survivors do when they heal. They are so happy, they cannot keep it to themselves. As you reach each new season of your life then go to seed, spread those little life-promises generously! Cultivate the happiness healing brings. You, my friend are the purpose nature promises. Year after year I will celebrate you. I will never stop.

I'm tenacious. We both are.