13,522 days ago was 1988

 

Wow, in one breath that feels like forever, and in another breath it feels like it was yesterday. 1988 was such a long time ago, and yet there are things that still live in my bones. Recently, I learned that a woman who was incredibly unkind to me when I was 13 and truly needed help had passed away. The joy that I got from that kind of scared me. I saw the news, laughed, and was excited.  There was this little part of me that felt so much relief, like finally that little 13-year-old had some acknowledgment that things should have been so different for her.  As I continued to look for information, people posted about how wonderful she was and the fond memories they had.  Yet, for me, the memories I had were not good ones, not warm and kind; everything was completely the opposite. I try so very hard not to think about that time, because it hurts that much, but there comes a time when a person just can't ignore things anymore. Maybe, just maybe, 13,522 ago is a time that needs some light. The little girl that I was back then was more hurt by this woman who passed away than I would ever like to admit. Her name was Joan Lux and I hated her, I hated her with all that I am or ever was.  With her no longer on this earth, maybe it's my time to breathe and take back all the things that she made me believe about myself.  

Talking about that year, that time is so burdensome. I feel the weight of that time each and every day; I carry it with me like some kind of coat. Something I can't take off or send to a recycling bin. I carry it still, feeling like I have something to prove.  Somehow, if I could just prove my worth, just understand, just have someone to help, I could let it go and watch it slide down my shoulders and onto the floor, and I could keep walking, never looking back. The thing is,  its as attached as I am to that time, it is just as attached to me as I am to it.   It creates so much anxiety and pain in my heart, and after all this time, I can close my eyes and be back there in seconds. My chest starts to tighten, and it's like I am almost forgetting to breathe. In my head, I know it's over; it already happened, but somewhere I am still more than terrified. I am so afraid that somehow that time is going to swallow me whole, and I will lose everything that I have ever fought for. 

Even sitting here and writing about all those days ago, there is a rage, a fire like a volcano that is seconds from exploding. My chest hurts, and I don't even feel my fingers anymore. My throat feels like it's closing, and I know I am in my own skin, but it feels like a place that I just don't want to be. There is this ache in my body, and my shoulders, instead of feeling capable and strong, feel like boulders. Even thinking about talking about that time feels like I have done something terrible.  There are these automatic thoughts that make me still feel small and weak.  Like if I were just stronger, I would have already healed from this. If it were that bad, I would have more visible scars, and people would have helped me.  I know that those things are not true, but somehow they still thrive. 

When I did reach out for help, it was Joan that I wanted to tell first.  I wish I could remember what I was thinking, why I wanted to tell her. For some reason, I had to believe that she was safe; little did I know how wrong that I was.  I couldn't even speak the words, so Calvin did.  He told her that I was raped. There was no care or comfort, no checking to see if I was ok.  I was just the chubby, unpopular girl who would want to do that to me. Even writing those words, I can't believe how cemented they are to my very being. There was no presence with me; I was more alone than ever. Calvin came back into the room, and I just grabbed onto him. I can remember being worried about all the questions they would ask.  No one asked any.  I think there was a part of me that wanted them to, so that I didn't have to carry it alone anymore. I was 13, just a girl carrying the weight of the world, and Calvin was the only one who seemed to care. He was there, just holding me. There was so much commotion going on around me, but everyone seemed to be worried about themselves and not me.  I can still feel the heaviness in my chest. I felt like I was the one who had done something wrong.  I felt guilty for telling someone, guilty for involving Calvin.  There is supposed to be this relief when someone finally knows and can help you, but I never got that. And after all this time, I still feel the weight of being so alone. Maybe this is where that deep aloneness that I so often feel comes from. It's a kind of sad aloneness that I have yet to find relief from. I think maybe that is part of the reason that Spunky is glued to that couch; sometimes it's better to be alone and risk more hurt. As much as I can tell her that I am here and ready for anything, it just takes time. She went through hell, and she did it basically alone. That kind of thing takes a lot to get over. 

Joan's husband was the one who took me home, still showing no care. I don't remember the care ride.  All I remember was him sitting next to me on the couch in my living room, telling me how different things were going to be.  No one asked how I was.  NO one asked about my heart. NO one held me, told me that it was going to be ok, I did what I knew how to do, you just keep going, trying to figure out what you did wrong to make all these things happen. They didn't help carry my burden; they just added to it. I was drowning right before them, and no one cared. I was the one who was at fault. I don't even remember my parents getting home that night. Still so many holes. The things I do remember feel like they happened yesterday, and then there are others that I still don't understand how I could not have known or remembered. Such dark times, that time was just as bad as the rapes, because I felt like everyone was looking at me like something so gross and disgusting, the same way that they made me feel. And they didn't even know the whole story, but that didn't matter.  I was just a slut. 

Even the days that followed after Calvin told them, "I was talked about and not to." I was crushed and felt like I was the one who had done something so terrible. After all these days, I still carry that. All of their words were like knives, and no one cared that I wasn't ok. It's crazy that even after all this time, this is more than hard to write about. These are the things that are wide open wounds that don't seem to want to heal. That time still creates so much pain; it feels like my heart is being ripped in two. I know I have spoken about this time; it's just that each time it feels so close, and I am overwhelmed with guilt.  I have worked on this post for a week. I write a little, then have to leave. It seems exceptionally close, and I don't like it at all. 

I get angry that it still bothers me so much, even after all the work I have done. This is a piece that has a hold on me. As much as I can't forget, it seems to want me to remember. Songs come on and the feelings well, and I change the song as quick as I can. There is more connection than ever with Spunky, and it's really terrifying.  All these things were something that Spunky had to deal with. Yes, she did, but that saying that often takes my breath away comes crashing in, "You are her and she is you." I think, ok, she went through all that and survived, me, I think I wasn't strong enough or brave enough, and she kept me sane. I know that we are connected; I know all the things, but my heart struggles; there is that fear that, somehow, when the full realization hits, I am going to end up in a dark place back in time. I wish I could explain it clearly, like that, somehow, truly facing it would crush me.  I can't tell you how big that fear is.  It just hurts, and I want to be ok.  I know I have so many amazing things ahead of me, and I fear the things that have already happened the most. Somewhere in my brain, I don't believe that it is over, even though I know with every part of my mind that it is.  It was so many days ago, and it feels so current.  I just want to be able to say, this was a piece of my story, and yet here I stand today, and sometimes I am just not sure how to get to that place when Spunky is no longer afraid. Because I know that I am still terrified.  

I just want to be Free

I heart your heart. 

. 

New Year same Me

 

So many things are the same, and so many things are so different. It's a different year, and I have grown so much, finding a small comfort in my own skin. If only for a time. I am speaking more, less afraid of my own voice, and all the things that I want to share. I have lifetimes of stories to tell, and thoughts to share.  I find myself frustrated when others still want things sugar-coated and pretty. I am learning that I have high standards and believe others deserve them as well.  No one is perfect; everyone makes mistakes, but there is a level of awareness that extra care and extra caution are often needed, and I am willing to make sure others get that. 

So this year, 2026, is the year that big decisions must be made, and hearts will be split wide open; my own heart, which longs to be heard and understood, may have a glimpse of that this year. Another year in the books, and this Callahan is still standing; that is pretty astonishing. There are so many things running through my brain, all looking for a place to rest.  This past year has been one with a great deal of challenges, and even some rewards. So many new experiences, new challenges, and new ways of seeing the world. I am stronger than I have ever been, and I can see the hard work I have done and my own strength and drive to do things differently. A huge change this year was finally fighting for myself. I have spent my entire life fighting for others, making sure they are taken care of, protected, and safe. And finally, I am learning that I am just as important as the next person, and I am fighting for myself. Fighting for Spunky, who deserved a much better life than the one she was handed. I am fighting for my dreams and the things that I believe in with my whole heart. There are things in this world that I want for myself, and I am at a place where I am truly ok with that. 

I am fighting for my own worth; for so long, I have believed all the lies that I have been told my entire life. All the old tapes that are on repeat have kept me where everyone else wanted me to be.  I am here in 2026 to say no more. Don't get me wrong, I know I have a long way to go. There are still things that I need to work on, wounds that need healing so they can finally close, no longer oozy and painful. All I can think about are the good things ahead and the direction I am heading. I am ok with looking back, cleaning out the wound, then two more steps forward. Then two more, then two more, then two more. All with each part of me knowing that we have done the work, and it's time to honor how we see the world to make a difference for others.

I started the year checking out the Handbook for the Ph.D program, to say I am overwhelmed is an understatement, but goodness to someday be able to say that I am Dr.Sherri Callahan, that is something amazing. I am in a place where the world needs all the things that I have to offer. Of course not in a big head unable to fit through the doorway, but in a kind heart, trauma-informed, passionate way that only I have. To make a difference in the counseling field, to teach others what is needed, to guide softer, gentler hearts, yes, those are the things that I am meant for. I am terrified, and yet still know that it's the right thing to do. 

In the coming months, I have to look at all the things I want to do and prioritize what is first, what is most important, what my heart's desire is (Thank you, Elpheba), and where I go from here. A book is also in the works.  Well, not quite yet, but I am wrestling with ideas, outlining chapters, and deciding where I want to go. I want it to be about the little things that matter and how we can all help each other on our darkest days. I want to show people how to carve a space for others, how a space has been carved for me and allowed me to heal, as I will continue to do.  

Graduation is in late Summer, and the Ph.D. application is due in March. So many things. There will be finding a supervisor, and continuing to do what I love the most. My heart is so full, and happier than I have been in some time. I can see so many things ahead of me that I never before imagined, and it is a great place to start a new year of being truly who I am.  

I heart your heart. 

Through My Lens

 

There was once a time when I called them "trauma goggles." I see, feel, and experience everything in this life through the things that have happened to me. Today, I think the phrase "through my lens" would be more appropriate. I have lived, I have lived lifetimes, and am on my way to finding better, to believing that I deserve more, and that I am willing to do anything to get the things that make my heart happy. I was talking yesterday, and the picture that came to my mind when my mother died was of her at the bottom of the ocean, and I was tethered to a chain that she was holding. She was the holder of that chain, letting me go only so far, while I was drowning right in front of her. She didn't want me to succeed in being better than her or achieve more. And then the following picture in my mind is what happened when she passed away. I feel like that chain, made of lies, deceit, and pretending, wasn't able to hold me anymore. A specific weight was released, and I was able to come up for air.  In that exact moment, there was relief like nothing I had ever known. The things that I have been able to do since her passing are astonishing, and with her alive, secrets would be kept, and I would still be underwater. I would still be drowning today if she were alive, and I am grateful that isn't the case. 

She even wrote a letter that I am not sure I was ever supposed to see, and she said that I chose to live in a haunted house. Her words cut like a knife. I wanted to scream; she was the one who wanted us to live in a haunted house and pretend everything was fine. When I was unwilling and unable to keep pretending, I was made into a troublemaker.  I was the one who stood up and said This isn't ok. Somewhere, I wanted things to be so different.  As I began to find my voice, to become something different than that drowning girl, I was the one who became the problem. 

So much growing up in the house that I did was so cruel and indescribable.  My father was always the monster, but my mother also played a massive role in that. How I see things in the world today is different, sometimes terrifying, and often misunderstood. I will always see and experience things differently because it's in my bones; I don't know how to see them any other way. So much of trauma work often focuses on what was before the trauma. For me, there is no before; it was all I ever knew. I never knew family, or comfort, or safety, or any of those things that come to mind when someone uses the word family. That will forever and always have an impact on each and every experience in my life. Sometimes I still try to run from that realization, but I am closer to accepting that no amount of hope could have made the environment I grew up in any different or any kinder. 

Being around different families and watching how they interact and talk to each other is sometimes overwhelming. The realization is screaming at you about all the things that you don't have today, and all the things you never really had to begin with. That makes a person realize just how crazy-making those things were, and it helps you understand how you see the world. With that comes a sadness: you can be accepted by others, but many interactions make you realize that you are included, not a permanent part. That's the part that stings, that no matter how badly you want to be a part of a family, you have what you have or don't have.  Vincent, Mariska, and I are lucky, our little growing family.  And now that Amelia has joined us, she brings a different kind of hope, a different joy, and understanding of just how important little things are in life. There is a sweetness knowing that she has the things that I never had, and will have even more things than Vincent ever had.  

There is a lot of grief and loss that comes from being brought up in my family of origin. There are always moments, seconds that cut like a knife. Some things will always be tender, but I am enjoying learning, growing, and becoming the person I have always wanted to be, and not letting a single person get in the way.  Still lots of hurt, lots of wounds, but they are no longer actively bleeding, but tender, and I hope in time, even that tenderness will be something that I can smile at and know just how far I have come. 

I heart your heart

I Wish Me Rest

 

Hard to believe it's been almost 4 years. It feels like yesterday and lifetimes ago all at the same time. I was talking to Mariska, and I said that I can't even imagine what life would be like today. And she said she probably wouldn't even live with us anymore, and that there wouldn't likely be a relationship. Words that hit hard, that stick and ring so true. Words that should not fit for a time after losing your mother. I still do not miss her. I have waited 4 years, and I just don't think it will be.  I'm not sure what I feel, but she has been on my mind a lot. When Mariska and I went out Christmas shopping, I saw things I thought I would totally have gotten her for Christmas. I honestly don't want her to be a thought anymore, it just hurts. Even when Vincent saw my brother, there was a moment when, if Vincent hadn't said anything, he would have kept walking. There is still a pull on my heart; I am still more relieved than any other feeling. 

The day passed with no real feelings. I even realized that it was the 3rd of December and not the 4th, crazy how time changes and gives a different meaning. It is crazy that with the passage of these four years, instead of finding fond memories and cherished moments, I have found exactly the opposite.  I have found letters and pieces of paper that have shown what she truly thought of me. It's more than hard to comprehend sometimes, because a mom is supposed to love you through and through. For me, I wanted her to love me, and she wasn't in a place to do that; there will always be a sting with that.  

I am in a place where certain doors are closing, and I am truly ok with that. As much as I would like to forget, she will always be my mom. That hurt, and the sadness will be forever.  That door is closing, I am moving on and doing things that I have always wanted to, things that I have only imagined are truly becoming a reality. I am becoming the mom that I always needed.  I am becoming the woman that she was never able to see, cherish, and appreciate. It's often a sad place to be when you are alone in the world, but my family is growing, things are changing, and I am finding my way. Lots of next steps ahead. New semesters, new chapters, and lots of decisions to be made.  

I am learning and growing all the time, and looking forward to new experiences, many new memories, and creating a life that is patient, kind, and always full of heart. The things that I am passionate about, there is nothing that anyone can do to change that.

You have come a long way, Callahan, and there Is so much ahead of you that isn't even in your wildest dreams yet. 

I heart your heart.  

Heartburnings

 

Oh, I am in the strangest part of my life right now.  So many things are going as I have always wanted them to, and there are parts of me that are sadder than they have ever been. I don't even know what to write or how to say the things that are spinning in every inch of my soul. It's a weaving of all the things, new and old, that are making me who I am today. I sit here wishing I had the right words to give me some kind of relief. I stare at this picture and think I am healing all the parts of me that deserved so much better, but today I feel an emptiness that I just don't understand. My heart hurts more today than it has in a long time. That feeling of wanting to curl up in a ball, that loneliness, oh, the loneliness, that will not leave me alone. When good things happen, there is no soft place to land. When I am too tired to cry, to make dinner, or even to take a shower, there is no one to ask if I am doing ok or if there is anything I need. I don't want to do everything on my own. There is a more profound realisation of everything I have missed.

A deeper understanding of all that I never received in this life of mine. An anger at the people around me who had a job to do and chose to look the other way. A rage that no one stepped up to keep me safe. I look at my sweet, amazing Ms Amelia, and my heart glows; she is everything that I have fought for. There is a presence with her. When we laugh, when she looks at me with those big brown eyes, we say a thousand words to each other, yet there is no sound. She is going to have the most fantastic life, with so many people to support her; that is such a gift. 

I am certain this has been the most challenging semester of my entire career. Each week, I had new experiences and situations to overcome. I have come so far and grown more than I imagined. As an individual, as a professional, as a human who wants more out of others. I find myself getting frustrated with other students in the field, who have not lived life and say things so callous and unkind. I struggle with the fact that others don't take being in a master's program very seriously; their words and actions are something I don't want to be a part of. There is a lack of professionalism that makes me want to scream. The problem is that they don't even know that they are doing it. I am far from perfect, I am sure that I will make millions of mistakes, but there is a particular awareness that makes me different. The life that I have lived, the experiences that I have had. So much revolves around Spunky lately.  There is a quiet kind of respect for her and all that she has suffered. I understand where she is, but I want her with me more than anything. I am coming to know why she is the way she is, but there is a heaviness with that; she deserved so much better.  I want her to find breathing easy and a freedom that allows her to dance with the wind, purely because she can. I want to be her safe place to call home, to feel, to cry, to be present in all the little moments of joy that we have always found solace in. 

I am figuring out my next steps in this life, the loneliness is ever-present, and I am not sure why. A loneliness that I have always known, that I was able to pretend was how things were supposed to be. Today, I just want more.   Once again, I think that Spunky is a massive piece of that. To share my goals, my accomplishments, and all that I want for myself. I want there to be someone when the doubt wins, to remind me how far I have come, and I am not even close to being done yet. There are a lot of tears, and I mean oceans full.  Some are happy, some are pure joy, and then some fall at the drop of a hat. It's the time of year, it's all the feelings, it's the exhaustion, it's the pain of all that never will be and all that I never imagined. So much, this heart of mine, someday maybe someone can hold it gently and know all of who I am, and love me with all that they are.  

Somewhere, somehow, someday. 

I heart your heart. 

Healed Unhealed and healing all at once

 

That, that right there, those words. Those are the things that are truer than true that I feel with every fiber of my being. It's a strange place to be, a place that is awkward, difficult, and even confusing. I am better off than I have ever been, and there is a weight on my being, my soul, that I don't understand. There are parts of me that are so ok, that are healed. Parts that are happy and can find joy.  Parts and pieces that I have worked so hard on. I have cried, processed, and talked about them until they no longer made me ache. 

Then there are the unhealed things that still hurt that I don't have words for, that can literally steal the air in my lungs at the mere thought of them. The things that make me want to crawl into a hole, the things that I wish there was some kind of magic pill for, that would make them non-existent. These are the things that I would do anything for them not to be mine. I want those things to be anything but what they are. The things that still bring nightmares, and memories that bring me to a time when the world was dark. 

Then there are the healing parts, the parts that long for something better, that keep fighting for what was always ours, we just never knew it. I think I will be here for the rest of my life. There is no end, no magic moment that will make everything anything other than what it is.  This is the part that longs for those counseling appointments, for that connection, for the understanding of everything that is held in my heart. Why do I react the way that I do? Why do I panic and cry at the most minor things?  Why can I be thrown back to the past by things that others don't even blink an eye at? 

Maybe this is just the life of a survivor, trying to find a balance between all three. I am healed, Healing, and unhealed all at once. Some days more of one than the other. Some days all healed, some days nothing is healing, and I am broken to the bone. Some days I feel like I am on top of the world, and yet the next day I am trying to play catch-up. Some days I can remember and everything is ok, other days I remember and just want someone to tell me I am not as awful as I feel. In all three I keep fighting hoping that someday, all the things that hurt won't hurt anymore. 

I heart your heart

This place

 I am not sure, there is everything and nothing on my heart, but probably more of everything. I am more than tired of crying, not knowing how I feel from one minute to the next. There are a few moments that I feel that joy, that I breathe easily, but mostly there is this heavy feeling. I feel like I'm always in trouble and doing things wrong, no matter what the circumstance is. I am a massive screwup, no matter what I do. It's the past, it's the present, it's even things that haven't happened yet. The past is heavy because I am always walking on eggshells at work, wondering if I am going to be the chosen target of my student. There are still wounds that are screaming to be healed, and I am trying so hard and just feel defeated so often. Frustration is a common occurrence at myself at others at everything really. There isn't enough time for anything.  There is never a moment that I can just sit without thinking that I haven't missed something important, or forgotten to do something. Every single day, I want to give up, yet I never do. My alarm goes off, and I think, I just can't today. But I hit my snooze as many times as possible, and I get up and smile and pretend that everything is fine.  There is an ache, a longing for something that I can't quite reach. Maybe a place that doesn't exist, but a place that I believe is out there somewhere. A place where spunky is a part of me and together we conquer the world. I honestly wish that I had better words, a better explanation, some kind of reason for why I want to curl up in a ball and pretend that everything is fine. I want to be okay, but I feel like I am the farthest thing from that. Everything and yet nothing all at once, my heart is exhausted.