This past weekend I told my mentor about most of the abuse that happened while I was growing up. (I'm 35 now.) I had told my husband years ago and he was understanding; he is a wonderful person but not really sure what to say. I have always been afraid to tell anyone else. And my therapist I went to see actually didn't want me to talk about of it at all because he thought poking around in the past would make my issues worse (not seeing him any longer once he told me he didn't want me to talk about it- we weren't on the same page about what I thought therapy was going to be with him). So anyway, this weekend I sat down with my mentor. She was so compassionate and accepting and loving. She is old enough to be my mother and it was like a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders to tell her. I left feeling encouraged, understood, and having a new sense of hope.

The next day I felt anxious. She comforted me at church by telling me that I am an adopted daughter to her now and she is glad I told her. (I'm blown away by the love of that statement.) She said she has a Piper-shaped spot in her heart and she's thankful I could tell her those things. She is an amazing lady and I am so blessed she is in my life. I know I have with her what many people long for...that nurturing parental type person that really cares about them even after knowing the shameful secrets.

Today was two days since I told her and it was a very hard day. I SI'd because I ended up unable to deal with a rush of emotions resulting from telling her those things. Instead of comforted and relieved and understood and hopeful, I found myself filled with a terrible sense of dread and guilt and shame that she knows these things about me. I also felt ashamed and guilty for sharing things that happened because a part of me feels like I should have just kept it secret, and that telling has dishonored and disrespected my parent (one of the people that was abusive). I pulled myself together and ended up coping by spending six hours deep, deep cleaning my kitchen. (Yeah, I have OCD too; it wasn't really dirty, but now it is extra extra organized and clean.) Anyway, Tonight I am back to having my head in a better place. My mentor loves me and cares about me, and it was ok to tell her. I know it doesn't change how she thinks of me and that it wasn't disrespectful to my parent to state what happened. I imagine I have my feelings go back and forth now that I have told someone, but I'm hopeful that that having someone to talk to about it will end up being a good thing.