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I went to my therapist yesterday. I sat down and told her that I was more nervous than I have ever been to come see her. I started on my way to a panic attack, so I just said the words: "I was molested." I told her more of the story than I even said here, which is gigantic for me.

I want to thank you all for your comments on my last post. Your kind, understanding words went a long way in making me feel safe enough to tell the story aloud.

After therapy last night, my husband and I went out with our Couple Friends. It wasn't what I would've chosen to do right after a hefty therapy session, but it was cleansing to laugh so much. When we got back home around midnight, I told my husband that I told my therapist what had happened when I was little. I had never outright said the words to him before, but I had alluded over the years that something had happened, and it wasn't hard to for him to figure out who did it.

Having said it out loud has taken such a weight off me. Its amazing how much more poisonous it can be for the darkness to just be sitting inside me than after bringing it to light.

I feel as if this rock had been tied to my heart, weighing it down, for all these years. And I finally cut the damn strings.