There are stories that ache to be told. And then there are stories so heavy, so disbelieved, so misrepresented, that telling them might destroy the person who lived them.

This is one of those stories.

The Weight of Surviving

I woke up thinking about the story I rarely speak aloud. A story of trauma, abuse, and exposure to the darkest sides of this world – repeated and unrelenting. I want to tell it, not because I want pity, but because I want credit for existing. For surviving. For functioning in a world that broke me in half and still expects me to show up whole.

My brain was broken by the people who were supposed to protect it. My heart darkened by those who dimmed the lights until all I could see were shadows. I want people to know. I want them to understand the cost of resilience. The body doesn’t forget what the mind tries to suppress. As van der Kolk wrote, trauma imprints itself on the body, not just the brain (van der Kolk, 2014). But the truth is, I can’t tell my story. Not all of it.

Disbelief Hurts More Than the Truth

Telling the truth in this world is risky. Especially when your truth isn’t neat or easy or flattering. I’ve tried. I’ve told fragments to people I loved. Some didn’t believe me. Others panicked and tried to erase me from their lives.

RAINN reports that survivors are often disbelieved, blamed, or ignored when they come forward – especially if the truth is inconvenient (RAINN, 2024). I’ve lived that reality more times than I can count.

When I was in high school, I confided in someone I trusted. Their mother tried to cut off our friendship, saying I was unsafe to be around. I’ve loved people who never really knew me because I was too afraid to let them.

I’ve been accused of things I never did. Told I manipulated situations for personal gain. Judged for existing in a body that others either desire or resent, as if that makes me less trustworthy.

And yet, all I want is to feel safe. To feel like I matter.

What Silence Protects (and What It Costs)

People think silence is passive. It’s not. Silence is work. It’s effort. It’s calculation. It’s protection – for them, not me. Brené Brown describes this as the cost of emotional armor; the ways we protect ourselves from vulnerability, even when it’s killing us inside (Brown, 2021).

If I told my full story, some people would never recover. Because deep down, they know what they allowed, what they missed, and what they chose not to see. I keep it inside, because it feels safer to carry the weight than to let it explode.

Still, the silence corrodes. It warps the way I see myself. It makes me question whether I have value outside of trauma. Outside of service. Outside of survival.

This is an Ever-evolving Story

There are moments I want to give up. When the pressure of existence, the weight of other people’s perceptions, and the impossibility of healing all feel like too much.

But then I remember: this is still a love story. A story about someone trying to love herself back into being. Trying to reclaim softness. Safety. Sexuality. Joy. Dr. Thema Bryant writes about returning to yourself after being disconnected by trauma – not just healing, but choosing joy, softness, and embodiment. This is my version of homecoming (Bryant, 2022).

What I Need You to Know

• I am not your project.

• I am not broken beyond repair.

• I am not strong because I survived. I am strong because I still want more.

• I am not a warning sign. I am a signal fire.

In your eyes, my story may look like something that needs pity. In mine, it’s proof. Proof that I can hold impossible pain and still move toward healing. Proof that I can want love, even when the world taught me fear.

You may never hear the full story. But know this: I have one. And I’m still here.

Works Cited

Brown, B. (2021). Atlas of the Heart. Random House.

Bryant, T. (2022). Homecoming: Overcome Fear and Trauma to Reclaim Your Whole, Authentic Self. TarcherPerigee.

van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Penguin Books.

RAINN. (2024). The Criminal Justice System: Statistics.