April 23, 2026

Cheyenne, Wyoming is where I spent several years of my childhood. I didn’t realize how much I hated the place but looking back I was merely trying to survive, yet I struggled to reach out for help because I didn’t know how. Ironically, I must have hidden my feelings well, as I’ve heard, “You were the happiest child.” My childhood memories are hazy, which has always troubled me, but there are fleeting images that come to mind—mostly sad and confusing—though I know there were moments of joy as well. I have written about those. This is probably why I have encourage so many people, including my children, to write about the good, bad, and ugly. It brings healing. This is why I have never understood movements where people claim “me, too” as I cannot imagine anyone wanting to talk about anything that hard. It brings out a shame aspect that doesn’t go away. I have things in my journals that could change people’s thoughts negatively. I have written on each, “if you read this, it could change your perspective”.

I remember a significant time when God entered my life. It was on a dirt road, and I felt as though I was holding His Hand. I understand He wasn’t physically there, but it was the first time I sensed His presence, feeling peace I never knew existed. It’s fascinating how, in that difficult time and place, I discovered my Everlasting Refuge. No one knew about that day between God and me, yet I felt immense happiness, as if nothing could harm me anymore.

However, at night, when I went to bed, the chaos around me intensified, and I struggled to keep my eyes open to avoid falling asleep. I was a frightened child during that time, unable to comprehend the recurring nightmares that persisted.

Interestingly, I learned that one of my daughter’s teachers grew up in the same area as I did. We even attended the same junior high, and she was likely a grade or two behind me. When I discovered this connection, I kept my comments brief and simply stated something like, “I really disliked Cheyenne; I will never go back”. Her reply gave me chills….something along the lines of, “Yes, many bad things happened there.” Since we were in a room filled with hundreds of people, it wasn’t the right moment for a deeper discussion. However, I often think about reaching out to her to talk about it as it perfectly echoes my own sentiments. I also found out recently that since the 1980s, Cheyenne has been ranked the highest suicide rate. Knowing what I experienced, I can understand.

My husband goes there once a year, and I just cannot bring myself to go back but maybe it would bring healing to me so maybe I should. The memories, what little I have of that place, have only seemed to bring me sorrow. Over the years, I have been able to remember some of the good. I do remember my mom telling me that my 6th grade teacher was concerned about me. I remember he would ask me if I was okay, and, in my mind I was, but he obviously saw something no one else saw. Boy, I would love to find him and sit down to discuss his perspective, but his name is unknown to me.

Perhaps facing the difficulty head-on could be a pathway to peace. There’s something powerful about revisiting old demons, especially with the intention of finding closure or understanding. Who knows? It might be an opportunity to create new, positive memories that can help overshadow the old, and I would know to bring God into my every moment of being there and walking back through the struggles like I did with EMDR but even deeper. Sharing the experience with my husband could also strengthen our bond, as we navigate the journey together. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to step forward and embrace what lies ahead, with hope in my heart and courage with the Holy Spirit guiding my steps.