When I was younger, I kept everything bottled up. I didn’t say a word because I was scared nobody would believe me, or worse, they’d look at me different. So I stayed quiet, carrying all that weight by myself. For a long time it felt like I was walking around with a secret that was eating me alive.
But now, I talk. I share. Because I know somebody out there needs to hear that they aren’t alone. Healing isn’t some straight road where you just keep moving forward. It’s messy. It’s a curve, a loop, sometimes it feels like you’re falling backwards. Some days I feel strong, other days I feel broken all over again.
Still, I’m here. I survived, even if I’m still piecing myself back together. And I want whoever reads this to know—it’s okay if you’re not “all better” yet. It’s okay if you stumble. You’re still here too, and that matters.