It’s taken a year and a few months to think life is getting back to normal.
But what even is normal after trauma?
When I look back at my journals from that time — July and August of 2016 — I see a woman clawing her way back to herself. A woman in the middle of a storm she didn’t ask for, still reeling, still aching… and still choosing to keep going.
This is a chapter of my life I never expected to live through. But I did.
And I wrote it all down.
“Even today, ten years later, my neck still hurts and I can occasionally still get killer headaches. But it’s so much better. Journaling is so helpful to see our progress through life’s challenges. I can see now that some of my most profound manifestation techniques started here!”
— Journal, July 3, 2016
Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. It’s messy. Cyclical. But journaling helped me track the truth — that even when I felt stuck, something was always moving.
“Wow, I wake up in the morning thinking about all the women who are strangled. I think about how I can speak up for them and feel paralyzed that I will spend the rest of my life thinking about them. What if I do not ever say anything, what if my story doesn’t inspire people?”
— Journal, July 8, 2016
I was terrified. Not just of what had happened — but of being the one to say it out loud.
To this day, I still carry those women with me. But I don’t feel paralyzed anymore. I feel powerful.
“The throat is the energy center where change takes place.”
— Journal, July 13, 2016
I’ve never forgotten that line.
And it’s no accident that what was attacked was my voice. My ability to speak. To cry for help. To name what happened.
But I am learning that using your voice is the healing.
“Love is composed of happiness, strength, and health.”
— Iceman quote, July 13, 2016
“Grandma Jean’s 87th birthday. She tells me at the end of the day: hold my head up high and say ‘I’m a good person.’”
— Journal, July 14, 2016
Even in the midst of darkness, there were whispers of wisdom, little notes from the Universe — reminding me I was still loved, still worthy, still good.
“Seems that if there is any weakness in your body, when your body is under additional stress, these areas will also get activated again when you are compromised.”
— Journal, August 17, 2016
This entry hit me all over again.
Because trauma doesn’t just live in the mind. It lives in the tissues. The fascia. The spine. The nervous system. And every time my body tenses or my neck flares up again, I remember — I’m still in relationship with this. Still listening to what it’s teaching me.
“I keep saying I want to write a book about this but I do not ever really sit down and tell the story.”
— Journal, August 17, 2016
Well… here I am.
Telling it.
Not the whole story yet. But this is a beginning.
“Is life getting back to normal????!!!”
— Journal, August 29, 2016
That question still echoes.
And maybe the answer is… life isn’t about going back.
It’s about moving forward with your whole self — scarred, wiser, softer, louder.
So no, life didn’t go back to what it was.
But it became mine again.
And that matters more.
If you’ve survived something that nearly stole your voice — I hope you write. I hope you walk. I hope you scream into the wind or cry into your yoga mat or speak your truth on a dimly-lit blog post like this one.
Because you never know who will read it and feel less alone.
Strangled in La Jolla was never just my story. It’s a survival. And survival is sacred.
Strangled In La Jolla 