I often feel like a General, leading his troops into war. I recognize the scent of the battlefield. I can see the future, and though I try to prepare them, I know that some will not return. I know that as we step into the fray that we are making a decision. We have chosen to do whatever it takes. We know that we may even have to sacrifice parts of us that we are comfortable with. We may even have to watch parts of us die. But for what? The ultimate objective - peace. 

I once wrote childhood trauma is war. I meant that in a literal sense, though, it can be easily misconstrued as hyperbole. We feel the impact of child abuse and CPTSD as the trauma in our brains and bodies. The result of childhood trauma, much like an actual battle, is an incredible symphony of long-term ailments that mimic those of soldiers returning from war. It would not be farfetched to acknowledge that the equivalence of being attacked in the field of battle has the same result as being attacked as a child. The brain can’t distinguish the difference; it only knows the direct impact on the nervous system. This concept is laid out wonderfully here.

Our marching orders have come in: fight or die. But what are you fighting for? Who are we fighting for? Only questions that each of us can answer from deep within ourselves. An intrinsic reflection of the person that we desire to be is what will lead us into battle prepared not only to do what is needed but to be willing to destroy any obstacle that reveals itself. The journey of healing childhood trauma is not pretty, elegant, or beautiful. No, what it is, however, is blood, sweat, and tears. And hope. The beauty of mission accomplished is there for those willing to seek it. The sounding of the horn of victory isn’t measurable and often comes in retrospect of change found.