There are names that still catch in my throat. The sound of them wraps around my spine like muscle memory, and suddenly I’m bracing for something that isn’t coming – but once did. There are rooms that feel louder than… Continue reading

Being married to someone who broke me didn’t shatter me all at once. It was slower than that. Quieter. It started with the way I second-guessed myself mid-sentence, the way I shrank a little when I laughed too loud, or… Continue reading

The things I was called too sensitive for were the very instincts that kept me safe. I noticed the shift in tone, the weight in the room, the words left unsaid. While others brushed it off, I felt it all… Continue reading

I didn’t learn emotions by being asked how I felt. I learned them by watching people’s faces change mid-sentence. Every shift in tone was a signal. Every sigh or silence taught me what to say and what to swallow. I… Continue reading

I stopped trying to control every thought. I realized some were passing through, others had been living in me for years. So I learned to sit with them. To let the noise come and go without making it my identity.… Continue reading

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,… Continue reading

The hardest part wasn’t leaving him. It was what came after – the long, disorienting process of learning how to exist in a body I had been taught to disconnect from. A body that had been touched, commanded, and criticized… Continue reading

What he took wasn’t just my comfort. It was the quiet right to feel safe in my own skin, to exist without bracing for impact. That loss didn’t come all at once. It was chipped away slowly, through every moment… Continue reading

Just because I was married to him did not mean I stopped being mine. But he treated me like marriage had erased that. Like I no longer had a voice that needed to be heard or a boundary that needed… Continue reading

I didn’t finally heal in some perfect, cinematic way. I just got tired of pretending I hadn’t been hurt. I stopped minimizing what I went through. Stopped laughing things off that never should’ve happened in the first place. My healing… Continue reading