To be sexually attacked as a child by loved ones is a killing burden. Not only suffering such attacks which attacks one’s very core of love, trust, faith, and the belief in humanity, but then the imposed silence.

No one comes running to rescue, comfort, or listen. No medical or psychological intervention which can save a soul. The wounding compounded by the family’s silence and loyalties to the abuser(s). That is the life sentence…the silence.

Learning that the shame is mine. That speaking out about such atrocities is not OK makes speaking up for anything throughout life about impossible, or taking extraordinary will and energy. The burden kills, or can, and too often does.

Living long enough, working hard enough, a well opens where all the past has been screamed out, and all the present lies ahead with feelings of hope, joy, and freedom. Freedom is the hard one, the one needing reminders that I’m not locked down by the origin families rules. I make the rules.

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