I feel like an imposter. Even after 47 years, the feeling that I have a secret to hide has never left.
At 5 I was targeted by a man posing as a good church member in my grandparent’s church and was molested. As anyone who’s gone through this knows, it doesn’t matter how many years pass, the hurt and self-blame is imprinted on your soul. When that happened, part of the internal clock inside me stopped at 5. As I grew, I experienced trauma for different reasons, at different ages, my internal clock stopping each time. I went through all of the teen angst you could dream up, complete with stammer, a blush that a beet would envy, and breaking out in a full-body sweat if anyone looked at me. I found my “safe place” where I hid, out in the open, on the stage. I was certain I would…
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