Free write (like all the rest)

3:20pm. At work. I'm full of boring random thoughts today. But isn't that better than my breakdown reports? I thought so. I feel better after therapy. I usually do. I heard that was strange though. Whatever. Thoughts though, about therapy today. Places I'm stuck. Places I beat myself up on for being stuck. People. Him. Today a him. From my childhood. Inappropriate kisses and conversations and guilt about keeping secrets. Some people shouldn't be around children. They just shouldn't. I've been stuck here so long because he is still around children and I doubt he has changed. It's not enough that I'm free of him. There are young girls who are not. It's not the memory of his touches that haunt me still (well, a little) but my silence. My silence haunts me. This is hard to say. But necessary. I Googled him a few weeks ago to see if he was still preaching. I found him. Behind the podium. That voice. Stern and clipped. That fire that brimstone that pointed wrinkled finger damning souls to hell. It's not that I haven't forgiven him. I have. As best as I know forgiveness to be. I haven't forgiven myself. Haven't forgiven my sewn together lips for not calling the foul. As a child I thought I may have misunderstood and he didn't mean for his tongue to slip in my mouth every single time he kissed me. When I purposely extended my cheek he didn't mean to force my nose to his. Every. Single. Time. Then I got older and didn't know how to answer why I didn't say something before. Now I'm a grown woman and why should I believe that he has set his predatory behavior aside? As much Criminal Minds as I watch? And I'm ashamed I listen to the nine year old girl in me who reminds me that at least it's not me. At least it's not mine. But I'm not free from it. Silence does not set you free, you know? Time does not heal. Words heal. Actions heal. Making the world safe for others heals.