I'm 23 and for years I basically lived in denial that my childhood was full of abuse. So the first step was to acknowledge, "hey my life was kind of fucked up." I was afraid to even do that. Why I don't know. Guilt? Maybe thinking I could've changed things. Shame? Maybe. Talking with my boyfriend made me realize that it was okay to talk about what happened. My sister and mother still live in denial of the physical abuse.
At this point I'm trying to get the courage to face my father and tell him that what he did was wrong. It's not easy, but I can't wait to feel the relief.
If you've been abused, talk about it with people who love and support you. It helps far more than a book can. Then build up the courage to confront the person who abused you. I guess I'm just reiterating what others here have said, but I wanted to put my thoughts out there.
