Now that I’ve got your attention, maybe you’ll hear me.

This is MY story to tell. I didn’t ask for it.

When did I get a choice?

You raised me in a religion devoid of love, family and trust. You didn’t ask if I wanted that.

You sat back while it burrowed a hole in my heart, while it destroyed all of us.

You let them shake their fingers at me, blaming my damaged heart for all of the upset in our family.

I was 17 years old. You sat in the car while the Elders manipulated me, abused me and took everything from me.

For 13 years, you have kept completely quiet.

I’ve been isolated, alienated, ostracized, shamed, humiliated and bullied.

You watched my own family treat me like dirt. Like I’m not fit to be under the same roof.

You watched, and nothing else.

And now you call me a bully and a coward, for telling my own story? My own truth?

I didn’t ask for this. You gave it to me. I’m not going to fucking carry it anymore. You can have it back.

I’m strong enough not to hide anymore.

I’m strong enough to put this out there, so I can help someone.

You wouldn’t risk the upset to help me.

I’m going to risk it to help others.