Fast forward in life, I have faced all my abusers except for two. One died, and one I just haven’t seen yet, but I will. The courage it took to confront them was immense, but each encounter was a step towards reclaiming my voice.
One family member told me I lied and should have confronted her brother when he was alive. Her words stung, but I knew my truth. I had finally found the strength to speak, and nothing would silence me again.
Now, working as a women’s health RN, I can usually tell when a woman has been hurt. The signs are there, etched into their very being. I can also sense the men who carry the shadow of guilt.
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