I am currently reading The Gifts of Imperfection by Bren�� Brown and have only begun to explore the depth to which she writes.

I don���t think I have ever finished a self-help book except hers. She studies and then writes about the things that get in the way of living fulfilling lives. There is transparency in her words. I like that.

While reading I had a light-bulb moment – I despise my story. The emotions that I struggle to cope with have everything to do with shame and guilt.

���Shame needs three things to grow out of control in our lives: secrecy, silence, and judgment. When something shaming happens and we keep it locked up, it festers and grows. It consumes us��� In this way, we need to cultivate our story to let go of shame, and we need to develop shame resilience in order to cultivate our story.��� Bren�� Brown

I thought I was shame resilient. To be honest, it is an embarrassment to me that I married a socio-path, even though I was only 18 at the time. I consider myself smarter, tougher and certainly independently minded enough to know better.

The author really brought it home with��� ���The stories of our struggles are difficult for everyone to own, and if we���ve worked hard to make sure everything looks ���just right��� on the outside, the stakes are high when it comes to truth-telling. This is why shame loves perfectionists ��� it���s so easy to keep us quiet.���

I know I have said it before but 17 years later, I still do not understand why he tried to, and thought he had, taken my life. His words while checking my pulse ���you���re not dead yet,��� replay like a horrible movie I can���t stop in my brain. The tears come and I fight them. The disbelief never disappears.

What bubbles up is anger and humiliation. Anger at myself for still being so emotional this many years later, for wishing the first time I left him I had never returned; for trying to help him not be killed by the police and for so many other things. Being killed by the police. He certainly did not value my life, why did I value his? If I had known what his plan was all along, none of the above would have happened. I would not have cared about his safety.

I continue to be dismayed by everything that happened during the stalking and ultimate kidnapping. I was blind to the red flags that so many others could see. It was not that I was blind with love because that was not the case. It was that I was incapable of comprehending the unimaginable. We read about those things happening to other people.

After a few chapters, I was finally able to answer my own lingering question. The reason I will never understand ���why��� is because it is not within my mental framework. Efforts to answer that question are futile.

Despite all the unwelcome emotions that this book has conjured, I truly have enjoyed it and look forward to reading another book by the same author.

When I tell my story, people say things like, ���telling your story helps others.��� Well, I hope so because I wish it wasn���t mine to tell. I despise it for myself and even more, for my children. They should not be saddled with the mistakes I made. All the unconditional love I can possibly give them, is not enough to stop the painful memories and ultimate betrayal we all feel.

I sound like a walking contradiction. I guess I am. I am working to publish a story I hate. With time, I will continue to work through the emotions and keep writing about it. Maybe my story will become a gift of imperfection.

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