Yesterday was Karen's birthday. It was also the 1 year anniversary of my brand new life. It was a very mixed day for me, as you can imagine...

I miss her. It's been a few months now and I've come to terms with her absence, with her choice, with her loosing the battle. But hell how I miss her! Everything I do, I do with her memory in mind.

I write bedtime stories for the children she'll never have. I organize community anthologies in which her art will never be included. I give out, to others, the love and care I can't give to her anymore.

I'll be honest with you: her death broke me. I was litterally unable to move or speak for a while, the shock was so great. And it opened a door into my own darkness. I spent two terrible months stuck on the couch, reliving my traumas old and new, wondering how it could've happened. How she had survived for so long with a pain even greater than mine, when I wasn't certain to live through it myself.

Karen was a hero, in her own way. Except her fight was a silent one. On her behalf, I want to bring it into the open. Because her fight is my fight. It's a lot of people's fight, actually. And none of the fighters are aware that, in truth, they're alone.

She used to ask me if it was okay to be afraid, to be sad, to feel lonely. If she was allowed to be happy or in love. To all who ask the same questions: yes. Yes, it's all right to be all of that. It's okay to have feelings.

No matter what you've been through, be it rape, incest, enforced prostitution, starvation, mental torture, medical mistreatments, fights, war, abandonment, grief, guilt, or any of the other thousands of pains that life is made of... You're not alone. And you're allowed to be human. You're allowed to cry. You're allowed to want a hug. 

Most of these things, both Karen and I have been through. I was lucky enough to have help, and to find the Tapas community before it was too late. Karen didn't have that luck. I tried, I did all I could, I gave her all I had, and it wasn't enough. And, after months of guilt, I realized that it was okay. Some battles can't be won. And that's okay.

This past year has taught me that you can't be strong all time. And you don't have to. That's what being human is about, too. Acknowledging your own flaws, your own fears, your imperfection. These are what make you unique. And in a very odd way, they are what make you strong.

That's what Abby's Hope is for: to remind you that you are you. Not your past, not your traumas, not your illnesses, YOU. And to help those people who don't know how to help. 

So right now I'm asking all of you who read this to reach out, even in the comments, ask questions, give answers, share moments, spread some love around. For Karen, for what she stood for, for all the smiles she won't give anymore.

Thank you.