Finding out
When I was a teenager, I told my mom and aunt that I had been abused when I was a young child. It wasn’t something I wanted other people to know about. My aunt told an elder in my church because she had the silly notion that he could help me. The elder had never taken a psychology class nor had he even been to college. In any case, it was a HUGE violation of trust. I never trusted that aunt with anything personal again.
Being observant and timid, I tend to find stuff out and keep it to myself. When I was 19, I found out that an estranged uncle was in jail serving a life sentence after I googled his name. Well, I was actually googling my grandfather, but they have the same name. One is junior; the other is senior. The symbolic appropriateness of that is just now hitting me. Like father, like son. Anyway, given various family dynamics, I decided that it would be best to keep that a secret, and I did so for many years. I only revealed it when it became necessary.
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