NOT MY SECRET...overcoming the shame of sexual abuse


I grew up in a small town on a lake with my mother, father and twin brother.   Across the lake lived my “Nana.” My father worked and my mother stayed home with us.  Every Wednesday my parents had choir practice and we spent the evening with Nana.  I vaguely remember the sweetness of being carried out to the car then put into bed by my dad after they got home.  We were supposed to fall asleep at Nana’s but we always tried to stay awake to see what she was watching on TV.  We would crack the door to the bedroom and think we were so smart.  One Wednesday she moved her rocking chair over.  She never said a word, but we knew we were caught and soon after just fell asleep.  Every Sunday we sat on the back pew at church with Nana while my parents sang in the…

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