You can let the harm be simply harm, a thing done to you, senseless, that leaves you diminished, and you can spend the rest of your life as its victim, defined by the worst thing that ever happened to you, carrying it as pure loss.

Or you can do the harder and more transformative thing: you can take the harm and make it mean something, wrestle some good out of it, force it to become the seed of something that helps others, so that it is no longer only a wound but also a source.

This does not undo the harm; nothing undoes it.

My children are still gone.

My scars are still there.