Finding Joy

I gave myself a pep talk mentally before I continued. Okay, Joy, you have laid the foundation. Now start building. I took a deep breath, and I just put it out there.

"Dad, I want to tell my sisters what happened to me. I think that they deserve to know, and I really think it will help me to feel free."

"Joy, I just don't think that's a very good idea. It's Thanksgiving for crying out loud. This is not the time," my dad countered.

"Well then, when is the right time, Dad? Tomorrow?"

"No, not tomorrow either," he said as he shook his head side to side.

"How about the next day, or the next, or even the day after that day? I know, how about on National Family Secret Day? That would be a great time!"

"Now, Joy, that's enough!" he said firmly and directly.

"Exactly, Dad. It is enough indeed! Dad, it really stinks what happened to me and what we've been going through, but I am done letting it consume my thoughts. I want healing. I don't want to feel like I did something wrong! I don't want to feel like it's all my fault. And I don't want to feel like I'm that six-year-old girl who always felt so dirty, no matter how many hot showers she took! Dad, I'm done! I want to live, and I don't want to carry these chains around anymore! They were never mine to wear."

He licked his lips and said, "And the truth shall set you free."