This is one of my biggest healing stumbling blocks.
I don’t feel like a fool. I feel like I was gang raped. I am terrified of what might happen to me for speaking out. I know I cannot heal without telling my story.
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Well, post-funeral/memorial I feel *much* less like I was ever a fool, and a lot more like you describe. Except, I now have the unique advantage of not being afraid of him anymore, given that he died. It’s all still…. I’m just still in shock. Processing. It’s really not something I was prepared for.
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