Today someone threw a rock through my window. To specify, the rock was thrown through the window of my soul.

This morning a friend of mine told me a story. It was her story. It was upsetting and had potentially severe repercussions- for both of us. Her experience immediately led me to feel numb; that's what commonly happens to those with a history of abuse and PTSD. Soon after I felt dread, sadness, and later, my tears flowed. While I understood her situation and wanted to help her find resolution and comfort, I couldn't climb back out of the Teflon tunnel I'd fallen into from hearing her story. I was rendered helpless. How do you save someone when you are going under? Exactly how do you separate yourself from someone else when their predicament brings you back to the painful and perilous place you thought you'd already escaped?

Then it occurred to me. Metaphorically my friend auditioned for and won the starring role of the character in a familiar movie that replays itself in a loop in my nightmares. This is such a fitting storyline; a vulnerable victim held prisoner at the mercy of a vicious villain.

How familiar and nauseating. How quickly I smelled my abuser's stale breath, heard the tone of his voice, and became 11 years old again.

While abuse can take many forms, each threatens to poison our spirit. How sad that we are born with an intact soul, then someone we trust steals our gravity. We pay the price for their decision to usurp their needs at our expense. So slowly we surrender our soul. We veer far from a place of intactness of spirit and personhood. Our dying soul withers along the roadside where our dwindled hope is lifeless, flattened roadkill. Time has lost all reference; now we're sentenced for life to be used, abused, and destroyed by anyone who feels entitled. Our senses are deafened and denied. Instincts are placed on permanent hold. After all, there is no one at the other end of the phone line to save us.

But some of us are fortunate enough to have been born with a spark inside our souls. Mine barely flickered, then billowed when that familiar feeling of abuse befell me. Once the numbness eased, I felt the unfairness, frustration, and anger. This flame didn't release me from my abuser's grip, but it gave me the impetus to reclaim myself when I was finally free.

Unequivocally I knew that MY ABUSE was WRONG. I decided that I needed to find a way to address my damages. I refused to live the rest of my life like a cracked vessel that could never hold anything, including hope. Hearts were meant to bear love, not be bared, violated, and scarred. More than anything, I knew that I could never condone this barbaric, bullying behavior. Once I was no longer broken, the cycle had to be broken too. I had no other choice. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to live with myself.

Fortunately, with years of therapy, I have been able to bring my promise to fruition. Fate gifted me a husband who saw Dana, and not a human heap of brilliant wreckage. Together we have raised five children whose stunning souls are exceptionally intact. I was determined to honor the gifts they bore. Most importantly, for them and myself, I knew I had to find my voice silenced long ago. In addition to writing Room in the Heart, I opened two Facebook pages: Iamdanaandrews and Menareabused2. I am unapologetically relentless in imploring survivors to recognize their duty to find healing. We must dignify, not devalue, others.

While I can't undo my friend's situation, I can encourage her to feel valued and make decisions that will empower, not entrap her. Because of her abuse, being in a precarious position feels safe and familiar, unlike enduring the horrible, unbearable pain of ripping open our deep, scarred-over wounds in the process of healing.

I think my healed heart will always heed the frightened call of an injured soul. I must do all I can to be a lighthouse for souls sailing in darkness. I want to write a beautiful lullaby for abuse survivors so they can feel safe both night and day. Maybe I can help them to end the nightmares and find their dreams.