For many years, I was silent about what had happened to me. I felt shame as if something was wrong with me because of what was done to me. I hid in the shadows, disconnected from life and myself. Instead of asking for help, I would lash out in anger, pushing away anyone who tried to get to know me. I was carrying a huge secret and the weight of it was crushing me. I was molested for four years of my childhood. While it was going on, the intimidation and threats from the abuser kept me silent. I was afraid that if I asked for help, the people I cared about would get hurt. So I stayed silent. I continued to be silent for many years after it finally stopped.  The burden of carrying this secret weighed heavily on my heart and soul for years.  I was in my early 20s when it all came rushing back to me, flooding my mind with the memories. I was reliving it all over again, and again, and again, often waking up in the middle of the …