I’ll just start by saying, life has been LIFE-ING and in some areas, I just let it happen. I had no energy for the fight. My attention was elsewhere….just staying “sane”.

The kidnapping that I’m speaking of was an emotional kidnapping (wait, is that a thing?). I have been a hostage of my own emotions for longer than I even care to admit (cue the pandemic…). I was gagged and tied up and in a dark room. Well, at least that’s how I felt. Sure, I was showing up and seemingly was being present wherever I was, but emotionally, I was a stand still. No matter how much I said that I wanted to be free, I remained in my own hostile hostage situation.

To others, it appeared that I was free. My life looked fantastic from the outside (and I’m grateful for all of those blessings). My “Captor” made sure I was fed and that I had water, you know, the things that are needed to survive. She (my Captor) made sure that I was pretty on the outside. She purchased nice things for me and took me to faraway places but I couldn’t fully enjoy them because I was in an emotional hell.

During this time, while still in captivity, I helped others become free. I checked on them, I made sure they were okay and helped them get over their life’s hurdles.

Meanwhile, I was looking for and was waiting for someone to rescue me. I was waiting for someone to be there for me the way that I was there for them but those times rarely, if ever, were a part of my story, when I needed it the most.

Most of the time, it felt like I was screaming into the abyss for someone to see me and hear the words that I was saying, but most importantly the words that I wasn’t saying.

I decided that enough was enough and I went back to therapy (yes, the therapist needs therapy) and it’s been kicking my ass. It’s a confirmation of the things that I already know and a discovery into the things that I hadn’t considered.

Through these therapeutic sessions, I realized that the doors of the room, that I’ve been in, weren’t even locked. The darkness only needed a lightbulb to be changed (Lightbulb = how I was viewing things) and that my hands weren’t bound and I wasn’t gagged but I had been sitting on my hands and that I had been in active grief of what I thought life should have been.

Grief is a MF’er and it will suck the life out of you, if you don’t move and push through it. Grief is not a destination, it’s a resting place for you to gather yourself for the rest of the journey.

While I’ve never been physically kidnapped, I can only imagine what it feels like to be back in society after being rescued or escaping. I’m sure you are constantly looking over your shoulder for fear of being kidnapped again.

After being kidnapped, you don’t trust anyone, sometimes, not even yourself, because how did you allow yourself to get kidnapped in the first place?

Right now, I’m learning to trust others but more importantly, learning to trust myself. I’m slowly reengaging in life and “testing the waters” with others.

Now, is the time to “stand on business” and get back to living.