The truth is I just don't know. I think about it so much sometimes that I have to put my head down and wait for it to pass. I don't especially like living in the past, no matter how much I try to make my life better, but this is stuff I'm not sure I know what I'm supposed to do with. Too much pondering makes it real again and invariably I get angry and all that does is spill over into the grave of that scared little boy I had no choice but to bury somewhere in me. I finally got to the point where it didn't eat me alive and spit out the jagged bones of what I was, and learned a certain degree of apathy about all of it. Funny thing is that there is never enough safe space before I start having dreams about it again.
I told him because he asked and because the only way he will understand me to the point he needs to is to know all of my dirty secrets as well as all of the good stuff.
None of this matters to me now, not on an emotional level anyway. I'm very happy learning something new each day and having such a fantastic time doing it, all with this extraordinary man who I'm just addicted to. Life is good.