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