To the outsider, I have the perfect life. I have a wonderful, supportive, loving family. I was a successful student and one of my town's star athletes. I am self-confident, outgoing, and loving. I was a division I athlete and earned my degree from a prestigious university. I am blessed to have all of these things, and I am so very grateful.

But sometimes, when people look at me and tell me how lucky I am, I want to SCREAM. I want to blurt out the story of that awful summer, when I was 7 and my neighbor's babysitter sexually abused me many times. I don't know why I kept going back to that house... but as best as I can remember, it was out of fear. So many times I have tried to blame myself for returning each day. I often have to remind myself every time that I was just a little girl, and that I was being manipulated and controlled by someone much older. As logical as that sounds, sometimes it's still hard to believe...

I have never told my parents. How could I? These two wonderful people who have worked so hard to protect me. Who were so often OVERprotective just to prevent situations where I might have been harmed? I simply cannot. This pain is mine, and I am okay with that. I do not blame them, for I know, in the deepest part of my soul, that my parents could not have possibly known what was happening. I was simply going out into the neighborhood to play each day with the other 10 kids on my block...it was what all kids in my generation did, and I never lead them to believe anything was amiss. Sometimes I feel angry that the one time my parents should have been MORE protective, they were not. I have to remind myself that it is not THEIR fault either. There is no one to blame but the abuser. And as logical as that all sounds, sometimes it's still hard to believe...

I have seemingly been given it "all." People have sometimes said, "I'm jealous of you" and I have to hold back my sarcastic laughter. Sometimes I'm tired of being judged by people who do not know all the pain that my heart hides. I have to remember that they are simply being complimentary and I have to remind myself that despite my ordeal, I am so very lucky. And as logical as that all sounds, sometimes it's still hard to believe...

I wrote a testimonial for the Vagina Monologues when they came to my college. I have never felt more free than the night it was read. Never felt more empowered, more alive. The little seven year old inside of me was rejoicing, for her story had been HEARD. And the present me sat in the audience, with my loving and supportive friends surrounding me and listening to my story, crying tears of both pain and triumph.

I know that I will keep healing. I know I will always carry the experience with me. I also know that, ironically, in the end, my abuser made me a stronger and better person. I will not just survive. I will thrive. But as logical as that sounds, sometimes it's still hard to believe...