I'm 7 years old. I came with my mother to visit my friend Yulka. Mom stayed waiting on the bench, and I went into the entrance to invite my friend for a walk. On the second floor, near the mailboxes, there was a man (about 20-22 years old), I vaguely remember him. I happily walk past, he touches my butt. I run in horror, without breathing, up the stairs, reach Yulka’s apartment and knock on the door. She opens: “Hello. I’ll get dressed and go out now. You wait for me downstairs.” I don’t argue and in a state of shock, doom, I go downstairs. And this man blocks my way to my mother and says: “Let me touch it...”. I run back to Yulka: “Can I wait for you here, let’s go outside together.” I don’t remember how my friend and I went down, how we walked. I remember how my mother and I were going home on tram number 13. I have a white face, I feel sick, and my mother asks: “What’s wrong with you?” I'm so ashamed that I can't open my mouth. Mom asks me to tell you, at least in a whisper: “There was a man in the entrance... He touched my butt and said...”. At this point I fall silent. because shame prevents me from uttering these disgusting words. I try several times to say it, but no... It’s terribly embarrassing, to the point of ringing in my ears. Only at home I was able to write these two words: “Let me touch it.” I show this piece of paper with shaking hands and hear: “Don’t worry, it’s all over now.” This traumatic event is preserved inside my child’s soul, lies like a heavy toxic load... Only 12 years later, for the first time, I tell about this with tears to another person - my husband .Recently, the topic of my childhood trauma came up while working with a supervisor, and I started to feel nauseous, I couldn’t breathe, my muscles turned into a tense string, tears... The consultation ended, I ran around the stadium for 5 laps and gradually came to my senses... This injury still lives in me... But now I can talk about it - this is a new step). Why am I writing this, to share my thoughts about what I lacked in childhood to share this trauma with loved ones. There are three key themes that are closely related to my trauma: 1. Shame.2. Depreciation. 3. Neurotic guilt. Today, about shame. This is a bright, all-consuming companion of my developmental trauma. Moreover, from working with clients, I understand that it’s not just me, in every similar story one hears the phrases “I was ashamed to tell my parents,” “I didn’t tell anyone, it’s such a shame,” “I couldn’t tell my mom...” So and it happened to me that I was ashamed to share this story with my parents. I barely squeezed out of myself in a whisper what was there and wrote this man’s words on a piece of paper. And in this place, I, a little girl, turned the situation of shame on myself, I was ashamed that this happened to me, as if I was not like that, did something badly: “didn’t run away,” “didn’t scream,” “didn’t scare.” Now, from an adult position, I understand that I definitely couldn’t cope with a man. And in this situation, I didn’t have enough reaction from an adult: changing course shame: - He is the bad one, and you are wonderful, kind, innocent, amazing; - He should be ashamed of his behavior, you are definitely not to blame for anything, you did everything possible in this situation, how good it is that you ran; - Nothing can justify an adult man who begins to molest a child, this is not your fault, this is a sick person; - This is evil, baseness... All these words are spoken by the adult/parent in a categorical voice, several times as if this truth is in the end authority. And it is this strength, a stable position that helps reduce the intensity of shame and share your experiences. These words purify, justify and help recognize another reality.....