I want to be more open and honest about my mental issues/illnesses/craziness. Whatever you want to call it, I want to talk about it.
I was young. 10 years ago.
I thought I could handle it.
Is it my fault?
I've learned more and more of people who would have supported me. Was I wrong to keep quiet? Does it make it my fault?
The only thing I did wrong was keep quiet. He is the monster. I was ashamed. I am ashamed.
I am ashamed I still have problems so many years later. I'm ashamed I don't have an answer when people ask me why I didn't ask them for help.
I was ashamed. I thought I brought it on myself. I thought I would be okay.
I'm not okay.
What happened isn't okay. What the police told me isn't okay. The fact he is still alive and breathing isn't okay.
I understand how families feel when they want the death penalty for the offender. I want it.
I'm still afraid. I still cry. I still have nightmares. I still have flashbacks.
I want to work on all this in therapy, but please don't ask me to talk about it. It's horrible.
I want to be able to talk about it so I can advocate for women and girls, but I can't yet. Hopefully I'll get there.
I want to let go. Is it my fault I can't let go? Is it my fault these thoughts and dreams haunt me? Sometimes I feel it must be my fault. Why else would this happen? Why would this still be happening?
-- Post From My iPhone
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