We are not supposed to go down into the darkness of the core. Yet, if we can risk it, the something born of that nothing is the beginning of truth.” —Adrienne Rich
Readers, it was time to write about Edgar. My heart feels strangely lighter. A great weight has been lifted from my soul. Still, I couldn’t have written this story any earlier because my level of self-security was too low— and my thoughts about what happened took decades to coalesce. I wasn’t ready to confess to having so much shame either. Shame prefers to remain silent, and tiptoe around the attic like a reclusive ghost. Shame never comes downstairs to eat with everyone. Shame places you inside an invisible garbage bag, and everything that you are feels like it belongs in a dumpster—permanently. Also, the silence of deep shame is always at war with the possibilities for healing.
