Because no good can come of reading the comments.

I know better. I really do. I’ve held my tongue for a long time on this issue, but when I recently read the below comment in response to a news article on Bill Cosby, I imploded. Then exploded.

“If Cosby did all, that these women said he did, I can’t condone it but I believe these women should have come forward 30 years ago. There is no proof of anything now. Back then those drugs were the norm for sexual enhancement taken knowingly by women and men. I think some of these women are just looking for money and attention. You lived with it for 30 years, what’s the point of bringing it up now. his career is just about over anyway.”

Then the red haze clouded my vision, and outrage fired from my brain into my fingertips; I had an anonymous expulsion of disbelief and anger for the hapless ‘gentleman’ who made the comment.

It’s no secret that sexual abuse is a hot button for me; my history has made sure of that. I understand that not everyone ‘gets it’, but sometimes the ignorance is too much to bear. To say I unloaded on the guy would be an understatement. How could anyone not see it? I suppose it’s possible that some of the women may have jumped on the bandwagon, but I have a hard time believing anyone would want to willingly expose themselves to such ridicule and defamation of character.

I’ve lived with my abuses for over 30 years. It’s never over. The years of therapy can never erase what happened. It will always be part of me. It’s one of those pieces that make me who I am. I may not look broken, maybe I’m not truly broken, but… there are always cracks. Invisible. Sometimes I wonder what it will take for those cracks to expand. What if I get to the point where I can no longer patch them?

I replied to comment after comment on that post. We went back and forth for awhile. Eventually, he took down his post. I felt a flash of victory, but it was fleeting. The bottom line is that the comments section of an article on a controversial issue will never give me any sense of accomplishment. No warm and fuzzies. No closure. No peace.

THIS IS WHAT LIVING WITH SOMETHING FOR 30 YEARS LOOKS LIKE!!!

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