12 years ago. I got a taxi home with a friend. She was dropped off first. Ten minutes later. The driver sexually assaulted me. I have pushed every feeling I have had about this as far down as I could. If I speak about it. It's very matter of fact. It happened. I am still here. I am still me. Move on. I have remained strong but deep down. I've never really faced up to it emotionally. Avoiding songs with lyrics that might expose me. News stories. Books. Articles. #Metoo movement.

Any talk of The Epstein files. TV Series with scenes of that nature, I watch or glaze over. I wear a mask.

But this week. I was unmasked. In front of my wife and thousands of others. In those moments, I have never felt so vulnerable and strong at the same time.     We went to see RAYE live. She has a song. Iced Cream Man. I knew a while back exactly what that song was about. The story behind it. I knew that it was a song I'd choose not to listen to, to protect me. At a gig though. You can't avoid it. The arena echoes the lyrics around you, even if you run and hide in a cubicle.

I made the choice to stay. Listen hard and drink in every note. Every word. I broke. Tears of a dozen years ran down my cheeks. My chin bounced as I gritted my teeth. But ever tear, as much as it exposed my vulnerability was a demonstration of the strength I have had, to hold myself up for so long.

For the first time in a long time, I felt the weight of shame leave me.

I realised that as strong as you might want to be... That strength needs to be configured to overcome the trauma. Not used to hold onto it and push down. It wasn't until that moment that I realised all I had been doing, all this time was holding on to it. And doing that meant I was gripping on to so much more negativity, sadness and pain, than I had ever understood. My wife knew what had happened but because I've been so strong and dismissive, I never really let her in. Telling her and myself I was fine.

Telling everyone I was fine.

I now know I am not fine. But I am now one step closer to being ok. Because my guard is now down to let the emotions go. I'm not holding it. I'm releasing it. Once and for all.  In those moments, whilst RAYE sang beautifully. I was exposed. But nothing hurt me when I did let it all go. The only thing that did hurt was the sting of tears but that's a small price to pay.

I guess what I'm trying to say is. It'll hurt you more if you hold it in. Because holding it in can lead to so much more sadness. A reliance on other ways to find the dopamine you need to get yourself up. Unhealthy ways like drugs, alcohol to forget or supress. Often leading to addictions. Leading to more pain and broken relationships. The pain you go through sharing your story isn't half as bad as keeping it to yourself for the months and years that are ahead of you.  Even if you are strong. Don't waste the strength on negative energy. Release it to make space and room for the positive.

Thank you RAYE for being that artist. That change in my state of mind. That trigger.

And thank you September Letters for hosting a platform where moments like this can be shared to support anyone else who might be feeling like I felt.  You really are not alone.