I think that deep down, my family supports me for telling the truth about what happened.
But I also think that sometimes my truth makes them mad, threatens them, and makes them resent me.
Because sometimes it's annoying (or maddening) to hear someone tell the truth. Sometimes a down quilt of quiet feels much better than a cold shower of honesty.
But I don't have time to protect anyone's feelings, especially since no one protected mine while I was being abused.
I can't pause or slow my own healing because it's hard for other people to know about.
I think the best thing I can do, right now, is treat myself and everyone else with love, care, and respect. And keep telling the truth, sometimes boldly, sometimes gently, but always the truth.
Always the truth.