My Life as a Real Girl, Part One

Simply realizing that I was a broken doll didn’t result in my overnight transformation into a genuine real live girl.  No blue fairy with softly shimmering wings appeared to anoint me with starlight and set me on my way.  In fact, as I’ve mentioned before, my familiar little world had been badly shaken and my support network scattered at that time.  And to make matters even worse, as I thought, we moved to an area where I knew no one but my parents-in-law, who were in the middle of a bitterly ugly divorce.

With the remarkable clarity of fifteen years’ worth of hindsight, I recognize now that all these things had to be.  Had I stayed where I was, I most likely would have remained as I was:  desperately miserable but paralyzed to do anything.  The terrible upheaval in my life both forced and freed me to admit that I needed help from somewhere I hadn’t looked before.

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