They said I was just sensitive. But I was scanning every room for tension, bracing for the shift before it came.

The silence was not peace. It was a strategy to stay invisible long enough to stay safe.

Even now, raised voices make my whole body tighten. Not because I think I’m in danger, but because once, I always was.

They saw a moody child. I was a child managing the emotional weather of the adults around me.

Healing has been slow. Some days I still forget that I don’t have to earn calm.

This wasn’t a phase. It was a life lived in defense. And I’m still learning how to put the armor down.