Want to highlight again how capable and strong incest survivors are. Not to diminish the pain and trauma we live with. With emphasis on live.


The shame is killing. You've never been taught that your needs matter. That your personal boundaries matter. But even at the beginning of the healing process, there are glimmers of pure gold. Each wave of processing brings you together, who you once were, who you were always meant to be. There is something extraordinary in every human being.


Healing incest trauma doesn't happen in a year or two. It's a lifelong process. But there comes a point where you know you've won. You've regained a freedom, a home inside and you're actually okay. And being okay is a staggering triumph for an incest survivor.


Only by being one who has held on, who has refused to give in, one passes on strength. Children feel it in the air. The cashier at the supermarket knows. Here's a hobbit. One knows because somehow all have engagements with oppression to be dumped in lava.


People are incredibly easy to love, really. It's possible to turn self-hatred and the torrent of criticism and self-accusation into something more humane: "You're only small, but you're fighting big."


Sometimes incest survivors are shown on TV, but usually not. Usually it is people who have been raped by someone other than a family member who are highlighted. When incest is involved, the victims are mostly shown as lost: prostitutes, drug addicts, incarcerated or in some severe black breakdown. You don't see the doctor, the empathetic boss, the gardener, the mother, the father, the teacher, the musician or the wise old face smiling through the wrinkles. Because we are just ordinary, nice, little, big people. It is what has happened to us that was, is and remains wrong.