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Then a moment arrives when the usefulness of the secret expires. Keeping it becomes the thing that hurts us. We have to tell.
Now I understand that the telling is the medicine—not the cause of shame but the thing that heals it.
Denial is a glass case that must be shattered before you realize you were trapped inside it in the first place.
Novie had a beloved decorator, a man named Tom, who was frequently at her side, bringing her objects from around the world, like a silver turtle that made a buzzing sound when you pressed down on its tail; she also had a housekeeper who cooked and cleaned. It was novel to me that Novie, a woman, had help with domestic tasks; it meant her hours were free to run her business. It made her life more convenient. Eventually, Novie found
I never wanted anyone to see me with my defenses down. I had to stay in control and be a good girl—and a leader.
It was a reminder that multiple stories could be true at the same time, that we select our narratives in accordance with how honest we want to be and how honest we can be with ourselves.
weighing down my body. I felt it in my chest
The glass case of denial had shattered.
“It’s not uncommon for women to begin remembering their trauma when their children reach the age when their abuse took place,”
“We’re going to be working on boundaries, remember?”
had found a resource, someone who would listen and understand.
“You owe it to yourself to sit with it all,”
“When you tell someone, it will take on new meaning. You’ll be worried about their feelings and whether or not they believe you.”
woman with long, dark hair and kind eyes, whom I’d
Abuse, I was beginning to understand, was a tangled mess of shame and silence. The abused learn early that survival sometimes means protecting the secrets of their abusers.

