Warning: heavy language and honesty ahead.
I came forward publicly as a sexual abuse survivor earlier this year. It was a secret that I had carried with me for twenty years.
Twenty years of silence. Twenty years of trying to forget. Twenty years of trying to imagine it away. Twenty years of pushing down the rising shame.
There was no healing in that time. None. The funny thing about secrets is that they become heavier each year until the silence is so fucking heavy that you cannot breathe underneath the weight of it.
Silence doesn't bring healing. Pushing away the feelings and the shame doesn't bring healing.
Why? You can't heal it if you don't feel it.
Fuck. That truth burns, doesn't it?
I don't want to feel that shit. The reason that I was silent and numbed myself for so many years is because those feelings hurt like a bitch. Those feelings burned so badly that I nearly took my own life in the aftermath of the rape. Who in the hell wants to feel that? Not me.
But numb doesn't heal. It may temporarily protect you but there is no healing underneath the cold, plastic, silent numbness.
So, I've been feeling all the damn feelings. Writing letters to my 17 year old self, allowing myself to remember all the painful details, reaching out to other survivors.
It's been really fucking painful. And, truly healing. One day at a time, Loves.
So, if you are healing from a wound in your life-- whatever that may be, I honor you.
Feel that shit. Heal that shit.
You'll get through this. You will. I will.
We will come out stronger on the other side.