I grew up in a very appearance-oriented, achievement-oriented family. But I was also voted "most likely to succeed" and "class clown." And I found that through humor, I could--it was a whole new world for me. And I love to laugh anyway, but it was a cover. As a young girl--very young--there was predominantly in the household, there was violence, very volatile.

Didn't know when it was going to happen, but there was sexual abuse. There was violence, emotional tearing down, brutality. My father was in the military, so I was brought up to not let any--and we weren't even allowed to cry, so not let any negative emotion show. Yes, my face--my mask was always humorous. In fact, people tell me, "You look so happy," and then I would go home, and I would feel, "OK, I fooled them." And then I'd get angry at myself because I am an impostor. It didn't shatter the mask. It basically--my mask got stronger until it broke. You can't--you can't beat a child without affecting them psychologically. And as a little girl, even growing up, getting older and achieving and getting standing ovations and getting accolades for academic things or whatever I was doing didn't--just fed into emptiness because in my journals I would say, "Why am I so bad?" It was "Don't tell anybody what happens in the walls of these homes." And this--was a family that looked like it had it all together. I got to the point where I was broken. I had had years of keeping secrets. Sometimes they say, "You're only as sick as your secrets." So for years--and having to act. And the only way I was to reveal is if I had a role where it was very intense and heart wrenching, and somebody would say, "That's good acting." And inside I'd know I just didn't have the cover on. So the broken comes from when you're not heard. My abuse was such that I didn't trust men. So I'm over 50. I've never married. I've never had children. I'm in a church that reveres and talks about, constantly, family and marriage. I would walk out when I would hear "Love at Home." I didn't know--I don't know--I am starting to know now. I didn't know what family bonds were; people take that for granted. My mission president said this--I love it. He says, "Someday we will know how we are known." And even with keeping all these secrets before they were out, there was a part of me--there's a cognitive part of you, and then there's that little boy, little girl part--that emotional part that was hurt. So I always knew that I had a Heavenly Father who knew me, knew me in the sense of the knowing, and who loved me even though I didn't have family bonds, didn't know what love was. I knew, I knew Heavenly Father loved me. Sometimes I felt like He was the only one. He--I believe that some incredibly strong people don't know they're strong until they're pushed to the point where they have to recognize that spirit within them. I'm not bubbly as a cover anymore. I feel like I've gotten peace I've never had before. I've felt love; I've let love in. I love that scripture, "Be still and know that I am." I think I had to get to the point where I let go of the pain, I let go of the secrets. I'm not ashamed. There's such a stigma. And I even--when you say "mental illness," anyone who goes through a psychological atrocity is going to have issues. I've been through some severe ones; so have other people who've opened up to me. It's nice that even within the Church, we can talk about the fact that this was a toxic, volatile home, and not everybody has the loving family dynamic. I believe our greatest wounds can be our greatest gifts. It was so hard for me to tell my story, because I didn't want to concentrate on the details and the events. I wanted to concentrate on the message. And the message is of human resiliency. It is that our spirits are incredibly strong. My spirit--he--many perpetrators--I chose many people like my father who would try to break my spirit. No one broke my spirit, and the reason why they didn't is because of that spiritual factor. I don't know how people live without the Spirit.

Light combats dark. I wish I had had this understanding going through those events. And maybe having this understanding and this feeling peace, and with this, I might not have gotten myself later on in life into some of those experiences. Sometimes our purpose is to help someone else get out of their darkness. Maybe our story can help unlock someone else's prison. But I'm so grateful--I mean, I had a testimony on my mission. But my biggest testimony is that the Savior, God loves us so much. And I believe that sometimes He can't hold back the tears because He can't physically be here. But He works for other people, and He needs us to be strong so that we can lift somebody else up.