“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” – Maya Angelou

Pushing away the fear and nervousness. Writing to you, breaking the silence. Born in a very small town in Oklahoma. I was 6 years old when the touching started. Confused and not wanting to get anyone into “trouble.” I kept silent.

As a teenager desperate for someone to love me but feeling as though no one could love the brokenness that I felt inside. I kept silent.

As a young single mom needing to make a living, would anyone believe that the boss was flirting and making advances toward me? It wasn’t worth the risk. I kept silent.

I slapped on a smile, worked hard at pretending everything was okay. I didn’t want to think about it. Telling, talking about it meant replaying it in my head. I mean, if you wake up from a nightmare Do you go back to sleep hoping to have the same dream? No thank you. I stayed quiet.

Watching other little girls, wondering if anything would happen to them. Even, that wasn’t enough to break my silence.

As I went through a divorce. Feeling like the walls were crumbling down around me. Trapped and scared in my own head. Wondering if it was possible to find peace or happiness. Wanting to finally break free but worried, what it would my friends and family think? Do I bring this up now that I’m an adult? I made the decision to seek help behind closed doors.

And then there was me, confronted with the anguish of my childhood as I made funeral arrangements after my brother committed suicide.

As I look back over the last 10 years, it seems impossible, but I’m here thriving on a healing journey. And, yet, something still gnawing at me inside, because there is someone that needs to know that you no longer have to stay silent.  The agony wasn’t gone, because I haven’t told the story to you. Thank you, Maya.


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