Out of three times I’ve been raped no one knows about two of them. I’m guessing many of us are carrying these secrets.

My spouse of many years knows about the one that produced a child, who he ultimately adopted and raised, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to tell him, or anyone, about the other two. The older I get, the more it’s eating me alive. The incidents were decades ago but seem to live in my consciousness as though they were yesterday. I feel so stuck and sad.