So, I finally flat out told my mother about one of my rapes last night. I don't really know how I'm feeling about it. She was upset, obviously, but comforting and didn't react badly or anything. I didn't expect her to, but I just am nervous about going forward. I don't want it to be, like, a thing. I just hope maybe it will allow her to show me some more understanding, especially with being depressed. I grew up in a household were depression is not seen as a real thing and people do not go to therapy and you definitely don't take medication for any mental health issues. Which makes it hard for me when I'm struggling because I have to just suck everything up if I want to have a relationship with them. Which is basically our family's dynamic for everything. Suck it up, move on, don't talk about it. Actually, that is one thing she did say - I'll never bring this up again. Right on cue. Although, considering how I sort of wish I could undo what I said, I don't think that is necessarily a bad thing. I just don't know. I also do want it to be stuffed away like any other unpleasant thing that ever happened in our family either. I want it to matter and for my experience to be respected, I guess.

Now I'm just feeling a bit fragile. I'm nervous I ruined everything. I've spent my whole life setting up facades as barriers, I'm scared to have taken any of them down. But I guess I did this for a reason?

Anyway, I'm off to bake a cake (tarta de Santiago, mmmm) and make myself some tea. Hopefully today will be alright.