Saying It Out Loud - The Secret I Carried for 18 Years

Calling it out. Putting a name to it. Releasing it. Taking the weight off. Putting shame down. No more secrets. Making room and time for healing.

A quiet room symbolizing a safe space for sharing and healing

For about 18 years I held on to and carried a secret, a burden, a shame, a blame, a dirty feeling that was not mine to carry. I could no longer carry this weight - it had become too overwhelming, and was taking over my life, my relationships, my identity. I was either going to be fully consumed by it or I had to fight back and purge it from my life.

I chose to fight back and purge it.

How? I addressed it by calling it out. I finally spoke the words - not just to myself, but also to another person.

Not because I was brave. Not because I had it all figured out. Not because I as "ready."

But because I couldn't NOT say it anymore.

The torment and damage of keeping it inside had become greater than the fear of speaking it out.

I was 31 years old.

The Power of Speaking It Out Loud

There's something almost magical that happens when you say something out loud for the first time. When you take what's been swirling in your head, weighing down your heart, sitting like a rock in your stomach - and you give it words. Give it air. Give it sound.

It loses some of its power over you.

Not all of it. Not immediately. But some.

Because secrets thrive in silence. Shame grows in darkness. Blame festers when it's held inside. The things we carry alone become heavier the longer we carry them.

But when you say it out loud? To someone safe? Everything shifts.

The secret is no longer just yours.

The shame has been witnessed and not rejected.

The blame can finally be examined in the light.

The burden is shared, even if just for a moment.

And suddenly, breathing feels a little easier.

The Secret I Carried

When I was almost 13 years old, I was molested by a close family friend for the first time. Someone I trusted. Someone my family trusted. The molestation lasted for 2.5 years.

Something inside me had broken, but I didn't even have words for it yet. I didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. To me, a pre-adolescent child with raging hormones, the attention felt like love, care, safety.

But here's the thing about childhood sexual abuse: It doesn't just take your innocence. It takes your voice.

So I didn't tell anyone. Not when my mother point-blank asked me when I was 16, if something had happened. Not for years. Not for nearly two decades.

I told myself stories:

• “Maybe it was ok - he loved me. We loved each other”

• "I was a willing participant. I am to blame”

• “The shame is mine. I allowed him to touch me”

• "It's too late now to say anything”

• “It’s ok, I’m ok - it is in the past. I’ve moved on”

• “I can’t bear bringing light to my dirty little secret”

• “I will get in trouble if I tell anyone”

• “No one would believe me”

And beneath all those stories was the real weight I was carrying:

Shame. Deep, suffocating shame that made me feel dirty, broken, stupid.

Blame. The certainty that somehow, some way, this was my fault.

Secrecy. The exhausting burden of keeping something hidden that was consuming me from the inside.

Confusion. About who I was, what I was worth, whether I deserved love or goodness or peace.

For 18 years, I carried all of this. Alone. Well, almost alone. I tried transferring some of the weight on to person who did this to me, but he refused. every. single. time.

The Moment Everything Changed

I remember the exact moment I said it out loud.

I was sitting next to someone I felt safe with - they had created a safe place for me to fully be myself, to explore and express my feelings without judgement.

My heart was racing. My hands were shaking. My voice cracked. I couldn't make eye contact.

But I said the words.

And the world didn't end.

The person listening didn't recoil in horror or gasp dramatically.

They didn't judge me.

They didn't blame me.

They didn't make it about them or their reaction.

They just... listened.

They held space. They witnessed. They believed me. They let me cry. They let me sit in silence when the words ran out.

And in that moment, something inside me loosened.

Not healed - not yet. But loosened.

Like a knot that had been pulled so tight for so long finally had a little bit of give in it.

That's when I learned: Healing doesn't start when the burden is gone. Healing starts when you finally put it down.

The Beginning, Not the End

Saying it out loud wasn't the end of my journey. It was the beginning.

It didn't erase what happened. It didn't undo the 18 years I'd carried it. It didn't immediately heal all the wounds.

But it did something just as important:

It broke the silence. And silence is where shame grows strongest.

It shared the weight. And shared burdens are lighter than solitary ones.

It gave me back my voice. The one that had been trapped under the secret all those years.

It created space. For healing. For growth. For discovering who I really was underneath all that weight.

It reminded me I wasn't alone. Even though I'd felt alone for 18 years.

Saying it out loud was the first domino. Everything that came after - the healing, the self-discovery, the purpose I found - started with that one moment of speaking what I'd been carrying in silence.

If You're Carrying Something

Maybe you're reading this and thinking about what you're carrying.

Maybe it's a different kind of secret. A different shape of shame. A different source of blame.

Maybe it's something that happened to you. Or something you did. Or something you witnessed. Or something you've never been able to name, but you've been holding for as long as you can remember.

I want you to know:

You don't have to carry it for 18 years like I did.

You don't have to wait until you're 31+ to say it out loud.

You don't have to carry it alone for one more day.

Because here's what I discovered that day at 31:

The thing you've been most afraid to speak out loud is often the thing that most needs to be spoken.

Not to everyone. Not publicly. Not before you're ready.

But to someone. To one safe person who can hold space while you finally release it.

What happened after I said it out loud? What did I discover about what I'd been carrying all those years? And what does this mean for you if you're carrying something heavy right now?

That's what I share in Part 2: What I Discovered When I Put Down What Wasn't Mine →(coming soon)

This is Part 1 of the "Saying It Out Loud" series. Continue reading to discover what happens when you release what you've been carrying.

💙 If this resonates with you and you need someone safe to talk to, I'm here. Free sessions | No judgment | Completely confidential 📧 renatafilarecki@gmail.com | 🌐 CoachRenata.com