When I began the hard work of finding my voice after years of abuse, one of the first things I wanted to do was change my name.  My first name on my birth certificate was a name that meant “little lamb”.  I felt like I had been forced to be the sacrificial lamb offered up, over and over, for the mistakes of the men in my life.  I was done with that.  I considered using my middle name, a version of Esther that meant “star”, but that didn’t really feel like it fit either.  Then

I’ve always loved turtles.  They have always inspired me.  From the time that they come crawling up through the sand from the nest that their mother built and make their way to the vast expanse of their new ocean home, they seem to have an instinctual, persistent determination to survive – against all odds.  I included Turtle in the name of this website because it has long been a symbol for the Earth Mother and Goddess representing creation, protection, and the patient rhythm

Picture of a woman's hand, writing a letter to a dear friend Shortly after escaping from my abusive relationship, I wrote a very sad poem about my trauma bond with him called "Song of the Broken". I am including it here on my blog partly as h er storical record and partly to remind myself of how far I've come in the last several years. The poem is listed below followed by a gentle, encouraging letter from my liberated soul to my former trauma-bonded self. Song of the Broken

Shadow of a Man I'm sitting in my car looking at the ducks swimming in the pond at the park - trying to stop shaking, calm down, and breathe. Trying to remember my grounding exercises from therapy - "notice how your feet feel touching the floor...count the cars passing by...breathe." I just left the doctor's office feeling so very humiliated from having to explain my medical history which is riddled with the stories of my illnesses which were caused by his abuse. If that w