To disclose what happened, to tell our secrets, takes courage. Lots of courage. To not tell maintains our shame and for some of us, makes us physically ill. Keeping the secrets of the harm done to us continues to empower the pepetrators. If we don't tell, they are the winners. To tell, to speak out, to admit - empowers us.
Funny how that works though. When I started to disclose: it felt like I would die or somehow fall apart. A huge part of me screamed, 'don't tell.' I didn't want to own what happened. I just wanted to move on with my life and forget all that pain and shame and terror of fighting to survive.
I didn't realize though, that it lived inside me, taking up way too much space and limiting how I moved in life. I strove to be invisible. I told myself if I wasn't seen, no one could hurt me anymore.
Telling for me has been very difficult. It's still difficult. I'm afraid the people in my life will think bad of me, somehow blame me or think less of me. The few people I told didn't think that at all. They said they are amazed. They tell me I am a miracle. I have been shocked to hear them say that. I never thought overcoming what I did was anything special. I didn't think it was that bad although I lived for years punishing myself.