I didn't want to believe it. I told no one about the memories that were surfacing through EMDR therapy. Within 3 weeks, my conscious mind and body were twisted and snarled.
I told my mom and sister about the abuse. They shared their own disturbing experiences with the uncle. It was a relief to be validated and to have their support.
My first "anti selfie" was taken on that last day of silence. I'm not sure why I began to record myself. Maybe I wanted proof of the pain. Is the series a reminder that healing is a lifelong process? Could sharing them help someone else feel less alone?
