For most of my life, I assumed that if I thought something, it must be true. If someone didn't text back, they must be upset with me. If someone seemed distant, they must be losing interest. If friendship changed, I must have done something wrong. If I wasn't invited somewhere, I automatically thought people didn't like me. The thought appeared. I believed it. End of story. I never stopped to question where those thoughts were coming from. I never asked whether they were actu

Everyone talks about the moment someone leaves. Nobody talks about how long they stayed before they did. People see the goodbye. They see the breakup. They see the friendship ending. They see the boundary. They see the moment someone finally walks away. And from the outside, it often looks sudden. Like one argument. One disagreement. One bad day. One final straw. But most endings don't happen in a moment. They happen slowly. Quietly. Over weeks, months, or even years. Long be

For most of my life, I believed love was something that had to be earned, not just given freely. Not consciously. No one ever sat me down and said: "You need to work for love." But that's the lesson I learned. I only really felt any love when I was useful. So it went: Be good. Be helpful. Be easy. Be successful. Be understanding. Don't ask for too much. Don't need too much. Don't be too much. And maybe, just maybe, people will stay. The problem is that no matter how hard I tr

What if I've just spent my life trying to fit into spaces that were too small for me? Isn't it funny how one simple comment can crack open a wound you've spent years trying to heal? Recently, someone said something to me that probably wasn't intended to be hurtful, but the wound was already there, and this simply reopened it. They mentioned that I update them all the time and that they struggle to keep up. On the surface, it was a harmless observation. But for me? It hit a ne

I think sometimes people misunderstand what it means when I say I “want attention.” It’s not about being selfish. It’s not about being dramatic. It’s not even about needing to be the center of the room. It’s about wanting to be seen finally. I’ve never really had anyone I could rely on. I’ve been on my own for as long as I can remember. And the trauma of that doesn’t just disappear; it sticks to you. It settles in your body, shaping the way you move through the world, the way

Who Would I Be Without the Trauma? I often wonder about the type of person I might have become if my childhood had been different. If Sheryl, my mother, wasn’t riddled with mental illness and addiction. If she had chosen me over the fleeting adoration of men. If my father wasn’t an alcoholic, absent from my life when I needed him most. Would I have grown up to be someone free from the weight of trauma? Or would life have found another way to test me? Would the abuse have take

Understanding the Crushing Sensation and Constant Restlessness I get the crushing sensation in my chest; you know the one where it feels...

I have struggled a lot in my 37 years, you would not know it by looking at me though. It all stems from my childhood trauma—years of...