I want to tell you about the moment I found the courage to speak up about the sexual abuse I survived. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I had been carrying something so heavy for so long, and there came a point where I simply could not carry it anymore.

When I finally spoke, I told the people whose job it was to help children. I thought speaking up would make things better. And in some ways it did. But it also cost me something I never expected to lose. My mother did not believe me. And just like that, I lost her.

I felt scared. I felt hurt. Those feelings were real and they were big. There was one person who stayed with me through all of it, someone who was there every time I needed to fall. That meant everything.

Looking back, I won’t pretend it has been simple. Sometimes a painful thought crosses my mind — that if I had stayed quiet, maybe I would still have my mother. That thought is honest and I am not ashamed of it. Grief is part of this too.

But here is what I know now. I cannot go back. What I did by speaking up changed me, and that change is mine. I am who I am today because I found my voice. Not in spite of what happened, but through it.

If you are someone who has not found your words yet, I want you to hear this: speak up. Speak slow if you need to. Take your time. And keep your faith. Faith that you deserve to be believed. Faith that your story matters. Faith that there is life on the other side of saying it out loud.

You do not have to have it all figured out before you speak. You just have to begin.