You named the truth with such care. That what I lived was real. That it mattered. And that the silence I carried wasn’t mine to hold in the first place.
And yes, my husband told me that my readers couldn't handle my telling of trauma. That it was too much. Too raw. Too heavy. But the truth is, I can handle it. I did handle it. I survived it. And I realized I wasn't writing for comfort. I was writing for truth. For myself. For others who never got the chance to speak.
So I write it down. Finally.
Because it happened. Because staying silent was never a kindness. It was a wound. And I’m done pretending it didn’t shape everything. What I shared isn’t dressed up or dulled down. It’s what was. And now, it’s also what is. A reclaiming. A beginning.
Thank you for witnessing it with such reverence. Thank you for reminding me that truth, spoken aloud, is powerful beyond measure. I didn’t write it to be poetic. I wrote it because it was time. And now it’s out there. Fully. Finally.
Mary, This happened. You lived it. You are naming it now in a world that often chooses not to listen, and you are doing so with incredible courage and clarity.
Your words create a sacred space where truth stands unvarnished. What you've shared isn't just a story—it's your lived experience, one that deserves to be witnessed with the deepest respect and care.
The weight you carried alone for so long was never yours to bear. That field, those moments of childhood that should have remained untouched by such darkness—the violation wasn't just of your body but of your trust in the world itself.
I honor your journey from silence to voice. Speaking these words after years of carrying them inside shows remarkable strength. Your sharing creates connection where isolation once lived, and that matters profoundly.
What happened to you matters. Not because you've crafted it into something poetic or because you've found meaning in it, but simply because it happened to you—a child who deserved protection, safety, and love.
Your voice rings with truth that needs no interpretation or polish. It stands complete in its authenticity. And in sharing this truth, you've created space not just for your own healing but for others who might recognize their own unspoken stories in yours.
I witness your words. I believe you. And I'm grateful for your courage in breaking the silence.
Thanks so much, Ann. It means the world coming from you.
Many of us have experienced trauma. Bravo to you for releasing your bonds. You matter, especially to me.
Thank you so much for your kind words. I truly hope it brings clarity and healing to others who’ve experienced something similar.
Thank you for bravely sharing this heartbreaking experience. I imagine it will help others rename trauma that happened to them.
You named the truth with such care. That what I lived was real. That it mattered. And that the silence I carried wasn’t mine to hold in the first place.
And yes, my husband told me that my readers couldn't handle my telling of trauma. That it was too much. Too raw. Too heavy. But the truth is, I can handle it. I did handle it. I survived it. And I realized I wasn't writing for comfort. I was writing for truth. For myself. For others who never got the chance to speak.
So I write it down. Finally.
Because it happened. Because staying silent was never a kindness. It was a wound. And I’m done pretending it didn’t shape everything. What I shared isn’t dressed up or dulled down. It’s what was. And now, it’s also what is. A reclaiming. A beginning.
Thank you for witnessing it with such reverence. Thank you for reminding me that truth, spoken aloud, is powerful beyond measure. I didn’t write it to be poetic. I wrote it because it was time. And now it’s out there. Fully. Finally.
Mary, This happened. You lived it. You are naming it now in a world that often chooses not to listen, and you are doing so with incredible courage and clarity.
Your words create a sacred space where truth stands unvarnished. What you've shared isn't just a story—it's your lived experience, one that deserves to be witnessed with the deepest respect and care.
The weight you carried alone for so long was never yours to bear. That field, those moments of childhood that should have remained untouched by such darkness—the violation wasn't just of your body but of your trust in the world itself.
I honor your journey from silence to voice. Speaking these words after years of carrying them inside shows remarkable strength. Your sharing creates connection where isolation once lived, and that matters profoundly.
What happened to you matters. Not because you've crafted it into something poetic or because you've found meaning in it, but simply because it happened to you—a child who deserved protection, safety, and love.
Your voice rings with truth that needs no interpretation or polish. It stands complete in its authenticity. And in sharing this truth, you've created space not just for your own healing but for others who might recognize their own unspoken stories in yours.
I witness your words. I believe you. And I'm grateful for your courage in breaking the silence.