For many years, I was silent about what had happened to me. I felt shame as if something was wrong with me because of what was done to me. 

I hid in the shadows, disconnected from life and myself. Instead of asking for help, I would lash out in anger, pushing away anyone who tried to get to know me. I was carrying a huge secret and the weight of it was crushing me.

I was molested for four years of my childhood. While it was going on, the intimidation and threats from the abuser kept me silent. I was afraid that if I asked for help, the people I cared about would get hurt. So I stayed silent. I continued to be silent for many years after it finally stopped. 

The burden of carrying this secret weighed heavily on my heart and soul for years.  I was in my early 20s when it all came rushing back to me, flooding my mind with the memories. I was reliving it all over again, and again, and again, often waking up in the middle of the night in a panic with a scream caught in my throat that would only come out as air.

Until I finally broke the silence. I shared with those closest to me what had happened during my childhood. I didn't know how they would react. Would they blame me? Would they pity me? Would they still love me? Thankfully, they supported me and continued to love me.

My healing journey was just getting started — my journey to rediscover who I was and to heal the trauma. The more I tapped back into who I am, the stronger my voice became.  

I no longer felt I had to keep the secret. I discovered that I had nothing to feel shame for. After all, I was not the one who did these awful things. After carrying the secret for so long, it felt good to release it and no longer feel like it was going to negatively impact the rest of my life. 

The more I opened up about the trauma from my past, the freer I felt. Free to speak my truth. Free to be me. I stopped blaming myself and instead, focused on rebuilding my self-esteem. I surrounded myself with supportive, understanding people who helped me see my strength and resilience.

Reclaiming my voice after abuse was more than just sharing my story. It was taking back control of my life and my sense of self.  When I was being abused, I felt utterly powerless. The abuser had stripped away my right to consent, my childhood innocence, and my ability to speak up. Through finding my voice, I regained what had been taken from me. I began to show up as the real me.  

Finding my voice helped me set boundaries (and stick to them), share my thoughts and opinions, and stop blaming myself for what happened. I was able to break down the limiting beliefs and dismantle old narratives that told me I was worthless, had to stay silent, and deserving of mistreatment.

I got to rewrite my story on my terms, shedding light on dark secrets and shame. My voice was the key to releasing old wounds, healing trauma, and embracing resilience.

Speaking out also connected me to others who had been through a similar experience. I built strong connections. 

The more women I connected with, the more I realized I was not alone. My voice offers a glimmer of hope and inspiration to others who have been through something similar, helping them feel seen and heard. I also get to shed light on the impacts of abuse and reducing stigma. 

I want those who are suffering in silence to know that it is possible to reclaim your voice. It starts with a single word, then a sentence, until you are speaking your whole story with conviction. 

You get to choose if you share just with those closest to you or if you choose to share publicly. Do not allow anyone else to dictate what you can and cannot say, or how you say it. Your experiences, thoughts, and feelings matter. You deserve to be heard. 

I will continue speaking out so that one day, no child has to endure what I did. We all have a voice that is meant to be heard. Together we are obliterating the cycle of abuse. It ends with us and goes no further.