I said this in a comment yesterday:
I work through things by writing about them. I find that doing so with feedback from others works best. And hell, the only way that anything good can come of this nastiness is for SOMEONE to learn from our mistakes.
Of course, there are times when I write something, then don’t post it. Many, many times. Sometimes the process of writing it is enough. Sometimes it is only shared with Sam or another person who is extremely close to me.
And sometimes, I need to put the words out into the world for all to see.
I shared far less when I simply had my website, but I still shared things that shocked some people. It’s easier with LJ— especially easier to get feedback.
I think the “no secrets, put it all out there” is part of healing from abuse. Abusers must have secrecy in which to operate. They thrive in it. Shine the bright light of truth and openness on an abuser and they scuttle away like cockroaches surprised in the kitchen.
When I started talking about the abuse, it was very upsetting to the family. It’s still something they do not like. There’s a culture of shame that blames the victim, even if she was three years old. “Why you and not your sister?” (Hell, I wouldn’t count on it not being my sister. That monster hurt a LOT of children, male and female.) I’m supposed to be ashamed of what happened, too embarrassed to talk about it. Dear gods, I’m certainly not supposed to name names!
Abusers love that. It helps them.
Healing is a process. It’s a path, a spiral path. It comes round and round again. I can hope that someday I’ll reach the shrine at the center, but the center isn’t the point. The point is to walk the labyrinth, to be aware and open to the experiences along the way.