I was running today. It was very hot, and the sun was beating on my back warming me from the outside in. I love running in the heat. I feel strong and alive. And for this once homeless girl who nearly froze to death on the cold brutal streets, the hotter the better.

I love to run, breathe hard and sweat. The taste of sweat reminds me of my humanity, and the salty and sweet issues that come with it. I trail run. Zig zaging back and forth up a steep mountain, no one for miles and the heat beating down on my shoulders.

Today I was half way up the mountain and I had to stop and catch my breath. I heard a rustle in the grass. It was loud and the tall dry golden grass was moving back and forth. Terror came over me. Being a survivor of rape I still can get very jumpy in situations, and hearing this noise I was sure it was man coming to get me. I was terrified as adrenaline pumped through my body, and my breath was heavy going in and out. I wanted to run but I was miles away from help. Oh my god what am I going to do. I began to prepare for my attacker. I swore after the rape that I survived that I would never allow that to happen to me again, no matter what. Even if I had to kill someone with my bare hands, I would. I was drunk, mercifully drunk, when I was raped on the street, but here I am sober and that is almost more terrifying.

Realizing there was no way out I began to prepare. I rubbed my sweaty hands against my running shirt so they won't slip from his throat as I try to squeeze the life from his ugly face. I looked around and grabbed two rocks to hold tightly in my hands. The rustling is getting louder, and I can't see through the grass but I know he is closing in on me. Oh my children, my husband, what will they think. I have to get out of this. The worst part is waiting for him to come from the bush. I can't stand the suspense. I begin to scream in hopes that maybe someone will hear me or he will be scared off and suddenly, he emerges.

Out from the grass, walked a sweet blue belly lizard and her baby. I collapsed on the trail, let go of the rocks in my hands, and began to laugh and cry all at the same time.

I realize that I have spent most of life this way, anticipating a monster around every corner and confronting so many challenges. All my fears have simply been lizards in the grass. I have walked through tremendous times in my sobriety. I knocked on 22 doors of homes I robbed, knees shaking, stomach turning, dry mouth and slowly acknowledged the harm and pain I inflicted on those innocent families. I have walked into stores, too numerous to count, with no home, phone or references and asked for employment, only to be turned away, time after time. Having to dig deep, through the fear and tap into my perseverance, I finally found a job and began to put my life back together. I have stood behind the man who raped me, only to have my fear of him morph into an unexpected sense of compassion, leaving him in peace to find his own way in recovery. I have sat with my family and friends and listened with grace and dignity about the harm and effect I had on their lives; I have stood in front God and vowed my life to the man I love, given birth when I was sure I was unworthy of children; and I have stood in front 2,500 people, turned the microphone on and shed light on my darkest days. I have traveled the country working with families and I have published my first book. And even after all this, I still get held up by fear.

I realize how great I am at surviving, but I am only just learning how to live. Do you know I cannot make banana nut bread? No matter how hard I try. I have tried recipes from Martha Stewart, Cooking Light and Real Simple to name a few, and for the life of me I can't get the middle to cook as quickly as the sides. All I want to do is make a fucking loaf of bread to feed my kids with warm chocolate milk as my mom did for me, but instead I end up with raw bread and two laughing little children, who think it is funny that their mom doesn't know how to cook. Do you know that I am afraid to have a dinner party? I am scared that somehow people might see trough my pretty furniture and shiny floors, and be able to tell how unsure of myself I truly am. We are moving house, and as I fill out applications for loans, I am filled with terrible feelings of shame and worthlessness, even after all this time.

It is amazing to me that I can put on a $1,500 Calvin Klein suit and stare at myself in the mirror only to see the lost, drug addicted, broken girl staring back me. I walk out the door to my presentation with a fear deep within that when the lights go down and the spotlight finds my body, all the audience will be able to see the scared girl that is hiding in me. I struggle with overwhelming fear as I navigate through a male dominated industry, struggling with the belief that my thoughts and feelings and ideas are valid and purposeful. I struggle with the fear of losing weight and wearing that little black dress that hides in my closet because I am afraid of being judged by people around me.

There is no greater captor than my own mind and the limitations I put on myself. I have done a good job facing my fears but it is still hard at times. And as my life gets larger and healthier, I am still held back by fear. My greatest challenge is my deep fear of being seen for who I really am. Maybe it is the aftertaste of rape, maybe it is the memory of my past and maybe it is my self doubt, that if I am truly seen, then the world will find out that beneath it all, I am terrified and feel unworthy of all the respect and success I have created in my life.

I want to take my rightful place in this world, shrinking back from no one. I want to stand face forward, chest out, arms at my side and walk straight into my destiny. One day at a time, I want to live free of the bondage of fear and self doubt, and free from all the lizards in the grass.