Dear Annie: In 1962, I was 14.5 years old and in my first year of junior high. Feeling desperate to be cool, I believed a girl from school when she told me that her brother, who was home on leave from the military, wanted to meet me. I told my mom and dad that I had a babysitting job, and I walked to a neighborhood drugstore where this guy picked me up.

We went to a house where I saw a woman in the kitchen, who he said was his mom. He escorted me upstairs, and when he offered me a Coke, I accepted, thinking I was really cool. Soda was seldom allowed at my house and only on special occasions.

That’s pretty much all I remember, other than him on top of me and then nothing. Then I recall making my way downstairs again where the woman was on her hands and knees scrubbing the carpet. I was then handed $5 and dropped off at the drugstore again where I had been picked up.

I now know I’d been drugged but knew nothing of such things at the time. I had two loving parents and was raised with four siblings in a strong Christian family. I had told this guy that my parents thought I was babysitting, so I think the $5 may have been “babysitting” money? I never told anyone what happened, and since I had lied to my parents, I felt even worse.

When I got married, I made up some story about a work-related injury when my husband asked about my virginity. Life went on, but then came the “#MeToo” movement, and all of the old, ugly memories came with it. Now after over 50 years of marriage, do you think it would serve any purpose at all to tell my husband what happened that day? I can picture the whole thing as if it were yesterday, and although I don’t remember the girl from school or the guy who was supposedly her brother, I find myself hoping they are no longer on this earth.

About six months ago, I did tell my younger sister about it, and she thought telling my husband now wouldn’t be a good idea. Rape will always be rape, but I was too young to know any better or call it what it was! — Just a Kid From Milwaukee

Dear Just a Kid: I’m immensely sorry for what happened to you that day, and for every day since that you’ve carried such a heavy and painful burden. Please know that none of this was your fault. You were, as you said, just a kid, and one that was severely taken advantage of. Your strength and resilience are remarkable, and I hope you know how brave you are.

The decision to tell your husband or not is entirely yours. On one hand, it may bring a sense of safety and relief. On the other, it could be triggering, painful or confusing — for you, or for him. It’s OK to take your time, too. If it doesn’t feel right, you can always revisit your decision later on.

As you continue healing, you might consider seeing a therapist or joining a support group to feel less alone with what you’ve been through. And remember, what happened that day does not define who you are, your worth, your marriage or your future.

Dear Annie: I’m writing to “Tired Mom” about the situation with her and her best friend’s toddler girls not getting along. As a teacher who worked with little ones for many years, I found that it works better when you correct with a positive instead of a negative.

Instead of saying, “We don’t hit,” say, “Hands are for helping, not hurting.” Also, if possible, get the child involved — “Repeat after me, ‘Hands are for helping, not hurting.'” I hope this helps. — Pre-K Teacher

Dear Pre-K Teacher: Thank you for your letter! I hope it resonates with others the way it did with me. This is a great reminder of how important our words are and that even the smallest shifts can go a long way — especially with our kiddos.