Ariel's story: The power of conversation over confrontation

For many years, I carried my abuse story deep within me. It wasn't really a secret, though - some family members knew, yet we never talked about it. So, I kept it locked inside, feeling silenced by the lack of dialogue. When I turned 30, the weight became too heavy to bear. I had to let it out, to speak my truth. I didn't care if anyone listened; I just needed to be heard. But shouting into the void often brings only silence in return. It's a constant struggle, the urge to share battling with the knowledge that not everyone is ready to listen.

Reflecting on my journey, I realize I wasn't always wise in choosing who to confide in. I pushed friends to listen when they weren't ready, almost forcing my story onto them. I sought validation and understanding from every date I had, not realizing that not everyone was equipped to handle such heavy revelations. I've since learned the importance of sharing with people who can provide a safe space, whether it's a loved one or a stranger. It's crucial to feel secure in sharing our deepest wounds, knowing that our vulnerabilities will be met with compassion and support.

One day, I sat down with my dad for a drink. I told him I needed to talk, but deep down, I knew I wasn't looking for a conversation; I needed to unload my burden. I wanted him to apologize for failing to protect me when I needed it most. Yet, his response wasn't what I hoped for. He refused to fully acknowledge his role, citing his limitations in always being there for me. His reluctance to apologize fueled my anger. I couldn't understand why a simple sorry was so hard for him. We weren't in a courtroom, after all; I wasn't asking for much. For years, I held onto resentment, unable to forgive. Even now, part of me still struggles with it. But I've come to accept that we all have limits, and his apology, if it ever comes, won't change what happened.

Through years of therapy, I've learned the power of conversation over confrontation. It took over a decade, but I've finally let go of the pent-up anger. Not just toward my dad or my attacker, but also towards myself. It's an ongoing journey, one I'm still navigating. Yet, I can now talk about my experiences without the heavy burden of resentment weighing me down.

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