I am not shocked anymore.
I am not even angry in the way I once was.
I am tired. Tired of watching harm unfold in slow motion.
Tired of waiting for systems to catch up to truth.
Tired of knowing that exposure does not equal repair.

I have always known better than to think that once the truth was visible, everything would change.
I knew it 29 years ago when I chose not to speak out.
And it has been confirmed by countless similar stories since.

I guess I just hoped this time it would be different. That something would shift.
That post #MeToo, post Larry Nassar, post Matt Lauer… this time, exposure would mean reckoning.
That documentation would mean protection.
That naming harm would mean it would stop.

Instead, it has reaffirmed that the system moves slowly, and sometimes not at all.
That power protects itself.
That victims…survivors age while investigations linger.
That healing is private work, even when harm was public.

After 29 years, my private work of healing continues.
And my prayers for the victims whose stories are still being unraveled in courtrooms, news cycles, and whispered conversations feel heavier than they once did.

Because I know what comes after the headlines.
I know the long quiet.
I know the anniversaries that pass while the world moves on.
I know the way people expect closure once the story has been told.

There is rarely closure.
There is survival.
There is therapy.
There are good days and hard ones.
There is the slow rebuilding of trust in a world that has shown you how fragile it can be.

I do not write this in outrage; I write from exhaustion…
I write it in recognition.

Recognition of the young women and men who were told to wait.
Recognition of the ones who were told it was “complicated.”
Recognition of the ones who are still watching powerful men age comfortably while they are left to carry what was done to them.

I am not shocked anymore.
I am not even angry in the way I once was.
I am tired.
But I am also clear.

Clear that exposure is not the same as repair.
Clear that justice, when it comes, is often partial.
Clear that healing is not delivered because a file is released.

It arrives slowly.
In private.
In the quiet work no one sees.

And that work, after 29 years, continues.