The Shame of It All
Admitting to INCEST, I realized how much I hated myself. Deep down, I believed I was not good enough: unlovable, dirty, bad. But shame was intolerable—a vulnerability that I hated and wanted to extinguish. It lived in the deepest part of me, becoming a “soul wound” that I could never rid myself of—deeper than embarrassment. When I felt shame, I was stripped naked, exposed for all to see. I believed if I could open myself up, people would see a crisscross of thick ugly scars and be repulsed.
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