Very powerful stuff, Zeb. And very brave. I’m sure it will resonate with many readers. In my case, the abuse started at age 7 and it was my mother’s brother who was the abuser. For many years I struggled to call it abuse because, for me at that age, he was the only adult giving me loving attention. Only in therapy in the mid 90s was I convinced by a therapist to form the word ‘abuse’ for the first time. It left me bereft in some ways. My abuser killed himself when I was a young adult and I carried some guilt for that, too. Thank you for writing this.