It's been 7.5 years. We have never talked about what happened. You have never offered to go to counseling with me or even suggested that you think I should go to counseling. You have never asked if I am doing okay. You have never hugged me and said we will get through this, like you have with almost every other thing that has happened in my life. You did have never asked if I needed anyone to talk to or even just needed a hug. It hurts me knowing that through all these years you have never been there for me for the most impacting moment while I was growing up. I am not sure at the fact of if you believe it never happened or you just don't want to believe it happened. Either way, Mom, it happened. I remember you opening up to me and said when it happened to you that you were so upset at the fact that grandma didn't believe you. How do you think that makes me feel knowing that what upsets you the most is the same thing you do to me? It kills me knowing that you, out of everyone, would be able to relate to me, guide me, tell me how to survive through these flashbacks, pain, triggers, setbacks, and trauma. That when I was having a bad day I would be able to pick up that phone and call you and just have you there to listen to me and prove to me that "everything will be okay". Instead, I have to lie to you. Fake a smile for you and the whole world. Mom, just because I'm smiling doesn't mean I'm okay. Doesn't mean I'm happy. I'm not just tired. I'm not just homesick. I'm not happy. I'm lying. I have lied to you for years. I'm not proud of it, but it's better than hearing the words come out of your mouth again, "Are you sure he raped you?" I love you Mama. More than you'll ever know. I just hope one day we will both have the courage to face our fears... your fear that something like that could actually happen to one of your kids and my fear of bringing anything up to you again since it's been swept under the rug for so long.