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by Kenzie Rowland (Author)
Waking up at 2am to flames licking the outside of my bedroom window and losing the only safe home I ever knew ended up being the catalyst to healing the sexual trauma I had spent two decades running from. This loss of agency and identity created a weakness in my body that I knew was a familiar feeling. It felt like my teenage self had been waiting for me to finally notice her as the ash from my home settled around us both. She ran into my arms and stayed with me as I rebuilt my life. Through the process of recovering, I remembered her fears, her hopes, and her grief. The perspectives I gained as an adult allowed her to finally unleash her rage and shout her anger. When it came time to process these emotions, I gave her a pen and told her, "Don't hold back." What transpired between these two versions of myself allowed me to explore the similarities of our traumas. I was visited by The Ghost of Not Wanting To Live; I was hunted in the woods by The Shadow; I screamed at The Creator in the sky; I Laughed Big and Smiled Wider to hide being the girl who lived through a fire. Life felt dark and familiar. Yet, all the while, I talked to friendly ghosts with Blueberry Branches; I thanked my old House Spirit for keeping me safe during its final breath; I placed Orchids in My Kitchen; I relished in the peace of Light Patterns dancing on my pillow; and I watched Daffodils Still Bloom after an endless winter.
Take a deep breath, enjoy some tea and a warm pastry, and invite your inner child to join you as you read. I hope these pages help you understand every version of yourself and remind you what a miracle it is to feel grief, joy, and everything in between... even if that can be painful. Most importantly, I hope you close this book knowing you are so much greater than what's happened to you.
Daffodils are the first to bloom after frost and signify the end of winter. They start dormant where they establish new roots, then bloom to store energy, and eventually return beneath the surface to start anew.
It's been a long winter; this book is my daffodil to you.
