I have to start somewhere.

I have so much to catch up on. Happy things. Things that involve my sweet little boy. Things that involve my family. Trips. Our new house. The beginning of summer.
but right now I cant go on anymore. I cant document another moment of that part of my life before I can start working through another part. A part that has been hurting me a lot lately. A part that I have chosen not to share on here. Not because I am private about it. but because I have not known how to work through it. It wasn't until now that I felt writing it out would help. It was easier to push away. To hide. To talk about when needed but not something that I wanted to document for the world. For people who don't know me personally. and for people to view who are involved. Its a sensitive thing. Its hard. Its confusing. Its so emotional.
Last month my Dad died.
I haven't mentioned him much.
My Mom has been my parent. For a long time. She has been the leader in my life and she has been the one to raise me. but my Dad was there. In a very big way.
Talking about this will take a while. I will share what I can as I work through it and only as much as I find necessary for my healing.
My Dad spent over 10 years in prison.
He was arrested when I was 13.
I remember the day so clearly.
The last time I would see him other than in a court room for over 10 years would be in the parking lot at my Jr high. He brought me a project I forgot at home that I needed to turn in that day.
We were practicing for promotion that day. School was nearly out and I would be moving onto high school. A lady came to talk to me. She was asking me questions about my Dad. My relationship with him. and if he ever did anything inappropriate to me.
I was confused. and not certain what inappropriate meant.
We talked for a while. She left. Then came back a short time later.
She said she was taking me and we were going to pick up my little brother.
She said she didn't feel it was safe for me to go home.
I ran through the school trying to find my older sister who was an aide there.
She must have been at lunch.
We left.
We went to the elementary school where my brother was.
He came out of his classroom and I ran to him. I hugged him and I said it would be okay and to be brave. He knew nothing. By this point I had a pretty good idea that everything I talked to that lady about my Dad... All that stuff I thought was "okay" was really not.
We were dropped off at a group home.
Together for a while.
Then separated.
I could see the boys home from my room.
I cried.
A lot.
I was given a tour. Told the rules. Offered support and met the other girls.
I can remember that place like I'm still in there.
I remember being given a light green toothbrush, some toothpaste and some soap.
We had nothing.
We had no extra clothes or pajamas or anything.
I was so worried about my brother.
I was terrified I did something wrong. What did I say? What was going to happen to my family?
I was given chores. That night was music therapy.
The next day every single one of my siblings came. To talk to Jonathan and I. We sat on the patio. It was the first time I think -- ever-- that we were all together and... Free?!
It was terrifying but it was clear we were going to be a team and we were going to support each other.
This was the beginning.
My Dad was arrested and spent 10 years in prison for child abuse.
He was a child molester.
He was also the head of our house.
He held the priesthood in the Mormon church.
He went on a mission.
Was married in the temple.
and even was a worker currently in the temple.
He had many high callings.
He was trusted.
All of the good he might have done in life was now labeled.
Labeled as a child molester.
Relationships were lost.
Lives were forever changed.
and last month he died.
He was back in prison for a parole violation.
and he died.
He killed himself.
The emotions I have felt since I was 13 trying to process this. Trying to move past this. Trying to understand it. To feeling at peace. To trying to build some kind of relationship. Guarded but trying.
To knowing he ended his life by choice. To all the emotions of being one of the ones left behind. As much as I wish I was still at peace and okay with everything. I feel like I am lost in it. Confused. Frustrated and overwhelmed by the images in my head.
One of the most defining moments in my life.
When I took everything that happened 'Then' and learned to live NOW and not feel like this defined me was when Kenzie died.
It was at that moment I knew what PAIN looked like in my life.
What I thought had been pain before. Was not nearly as painful as losing her. and it was then that I developed Forgiveness. Love. Compassion. and Empathy for the person I was once so angry at.
So now here I am once again. In a phase I don't want to be. Knowing I need to do something. So maybe its writing it out. Figuring out my emotions. My confusion. The uncertainty. Through writing.
This blog has helped me through the worst moments of my life before so I pray it does the same again.