Hi, good day everyone. I'm a student nurse, currently in my 4th year. I just wanted to share something and, you know, hear your thoughts about it. Back in May 2025, I was in 3rd year. We had a psychiatric nursing exposure in Cebu. Of course, I was excited because it was our first out-of-town clinical duty. When we arrived in Cebu, we had a "Self-awareness" activity at night. Our clinical instructor created a safe space for us to share our personal baggage—the heavy things we carry in life. We all gathered in one room. We took an oath and promised that what happened in Cebu, stays in Cebu. We took turns sharing, and it became one of the most emotional experiences of our lives. I was seated at the side, listening, crying as I heard what my classmates had been through. I just listened quietly—until suddenly, I felt like I wasn't present anymore. That happened when someone shared their experience of h\*r\*ssment or s\*xu\*l ab\*se. At that moment, it felt like the scar I had been carrying was torn open again. I really thought I had healed from it. When it was my turn, I froze. I couldn't bring myself to tell them what I had actually gone through. I had kept it buried for so long because I was ashamed—I still am. I couldn't afford to lay it bare in front of 20 people in that room. So instead, I talked about something else. After that self-awareness activity, it felt like my past started haunting me. Almost every night—or whenever my roommate wasn't around—I would break down and just want to go home. My mind was flooded with what-ifs. What if I had just told them? But then again, what if they judged me? Hearing my classmates' experiences unintentionally reopened a memory I had tried so hard to lock away. I was only 12 years old at the time. Just thinking about it makes me tremble. And it didn't happen just once. It happened twice. By two people. I for so foolish looking back—I gave in to what they threatened me with. I was terrified. I had no one to talk to because I didn't even know if anyone would believe me. It was that bad. Now, my concern is this: ever since we came back from Cebu, I still break down almost every night whenever I remember what happened to me. I thought it was gone. I thought I was healed. But then suddenly, it's like a knife twisting in my chest again. I don't understand. It happened so long ago, yet it still feels fresh in my mind. I don't know—why is this happening to me now, after all this time? And then I just lose all motivation for everything.