Slightly Frayed, In Need of Repair

If you’re reading this then that means I changed it back to a public setting. It’s been a week since I wrote the last post and I was OK with it, but by the next morning, panic had set in. I started doing all the things that I had done for years that had kept me silent. Wondering about what others would think of me and what will my husband think. I just couldn’t have it out there and so I changed it from public to private. It pisses me off that I am still feeling the shame. Fuck! Will that ever go away? As I write this right now, it’s still private.  That last post took a lot out of me and it’s taken me a week to even get on here. There’s so much more I need to talk about, to write about, but I also need time to process it after I do it. I don’t know what happened to the little girl who lives next-door to me. I don’t know if she’s  still alive today or not. What she did to me was so wrong, yet it had to have been a learned behavior and like I said before, I’m positive there were things

  Before I tell you what happened on this particular night, I want you to know that I have been procrastinating for several days. These next words are going to be some of the hardest I write and I  have to warn you that what I will be sharing may be disturbing to many. In fact, it should be disturbing, because this never should have happened. I am telling my story, not for you to feel sorry for me, but because I need to heal. I need to stop feeling guilty for something I never asked for. I need to not feel shame or embarrassment because of the events that took place. I need to be able to tell that little girl that it wasn't her fault. I need to move on and stop letting this have power over my life. And maybe, just maybe, my words might help someone else. As best as I can remember, I was 9 or 10 years old on this particular evening. If you read my previous entry, then you know I had a neighbor next door that I had become friends with. I don't remember the specifics, but on this