The Unmuted Truth #4: Why We Protect the Ones Who Hurt Us

For Everyone Who Was Taught To Whisper

By Nina, Transformational Mindset Coach

If you missed the beginning of this series, you can read The Unmuted Truth #1 here

'This is about all the ways trauma shapes our voice — especially when it comes to those who’ve hurt us.'

A Whisper We Carry

There’s a silence many of us carry — not because we’ve forgotten the pain, but because we’ve learned how to fold it neatly away. To tuck it behind our smiles.

To protect the ones who tried to silence us.

It’s a silence that doesn’t scream.

It just... waits.

Until one day, we can no longer hold it inside.

We tell ourselves:

“They didn’t mean it.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“I’m probably overreacting.”

“Maybe I brought it on myself.”

“I wasn’t worth more than that anyway.”

Because somewhere along the way, we were taught to doubt our worth.

We were told — in words, in actions, in silences — that love could be cruel, and we should be grateful for whatever scraps we got.

Some of us were told we were stupid. Ugly. Too much. Not enough.

And we believed it.

Because we were young. Because we trusted.

Because we thought they were right, and we were wrong.

These phrases become armour. Not to protect us — but to protect them.

This isn’t just about domestic violence.

This is about all the ways trauma shapes our voice — especially when it comes to those who’ve hurt us.

Because here’s what’s so often forgotten:

It starts with love.

Not fear.

Not violence.

Just love — or the hope of it.

None of us stepped into those relationships asking to be abused.

We were asking to be loved.

To be chosen.

To be safe.

And when pain came instead — we didn’t always leave.

We rationalised.

We made excuses.

'We were told — in words, in actions, in silences — that love could be cruel, and we should be grateful for whatever scraps we got.'

The Pattern of Protection: Where It Begins

Before we ever protected our abuser,

we protected the connection.

Especially if our history taught us that love comes with conditions,

that affection must be earned,

and that pain is the price we pay for belonging.

When we're children — and sometimes even long after —we don't have the words to name what feels wrong.

So we normalise it.

We adapt.

We learn how to read the room, walk on eggshells, and shape-shift just enough to stay close to the people we crave love from — even if that love comes with consequences.

This is how the pattern begins.

Because if we speak up,

we risk losing them.

If we stay silent,

we stay connected.

And to the wounded inner child in us… connection feels safer than the truth.

So we don’t just protect them.

We protect the illusion.

The hope.

The story we told ourselves —

that if we just tried harder, got better, stayed quiet…

maybe......

one day,

they would love us in the way we needed all along.

'We learn how to read the room, walk on eggshells, and shape-shift just enough to stay close to the people we crave love from — even if that love comes with consequences.'

Why We Stay Silent or Make Excuses

Silence is rarely passive.

It’s strategic.

It’s a survival skill.

We stay silent because speaking up often costs more than we feel we can afford — emotionally, physically, socially.

We make excuses because they help us make sense of what doesn’t make sense.

“He’s just under pressure.”

“She didn’t mean it that way.”

“They’re trying, they just don’t know how.”

“I can’t tell anyone — what if they don’t believe me?”

“If I speak out, everything will fall apart.”

And beneath it all, there's often an even deeper whisper:

“What if it really was my fault?”

“What if I deserved it?”

Shame makes us complicit in our own silence.

Fear holds the microphone.

And love — distorted, confused, loyal — keeps us there, believing that protecting them is the same as protecting ourselves.

Sometimes we stay quiet because we’re afraid of what will happen if we don’t.

And sometimes… we stay quiet because we’re afraid of what it will mean if we finally say it out loud.

'And sometimes… we stay quiet because we’re afraid of what it will mean if we finally say it out loud.'

The Cost of That Protection

There’s a price to staying quiet — even if we don’t realise we’re paying it.

When we protect them,

we abandon parts of ourselves.

We silence our truth.

We question our reality.

We tuck away our pain so tightly that even we start to forget it’s there.

We lose trust — not just in others,

but in our own instincts.

Our own voice.

Our own worth.

We shrink ourselves so they can stay comfortable.

We rewrite memories so they can stay innocent.

We carry guilt that was never ours to hold.

And for a time, we survive like that.

But survival isn’t the same as freedom.

It’s not the same as peace.

And it’s never the same as being fully, unapologetically alive.

Eventually, something starts to ache from the inside.

The silence gets heavy.

And we realise:

Protecting them has cost us ourselves.

'We shrink ourselves so they can stay comfortable. We rewrite memories so they can stay innocent. We carry guilt that was never ours to hold.'

The Turning Point – When Silence Starts to Crack

Sometimes it’s a moment.

Sometimes it’s a slow unraveling.

But eventually, something shifts.

A phrase cuts deeper than usual.

A look lingers too long.

A child asks a question that stops you in your tracks.

Or maybe… you just hear yourself say one of the same old excuses — and it no longer sits right.

The silence begins to crack.

It doesn’t always roar.

Sometimes it trembles at first — a whisper in your chest that says:

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Or

“I want more than this.”

Or simply:

“I deserve better.”

That’s when the power begins to return.

Not all at once.

Not perfectly.

But piece by piece.

You start questioning what you accepted.

You stop bending your truth to keep others comfortable.

You realise that protecting them was never your job — protecting you is.

The love you once gave away freely….........you begin learning how to give it to yourself.

'You realise that protecting them was never your job — protecting you is.'

💜 From My Heart to Yours

If any part of this reflection touched a wound you thought was long buried, or stirred a truth you’ve been afraid to say out loud… I want you to know:

🌻 You were not wrong to love them.

🌻 You were not wrong to hope.

🌻 And you are never wrong for finally choosing you.

It takes immense courage to stop protecting the ones who hurt you —and to start protecting the parts of you that deserve to heal.

You are not broken for surviving.

You are not weak for staying silent.

And you are not alone as you begin to speak.

This space is where I return to honour the whispers I once ignored.

To give voice to the truths that once lived only in my body.

And to remind you —

Survival is not where your story ends.

There is more for you —

More truth.

More safety.

More light.

More you.

Your story is not over.

✨ Remember. Reclaim. Rise. Rebuild. ✨

You don’t have to protect them anymore.

You don’t have to carry the weight of their choices.

You don’t have to keep your truth locked behind your ribs.

Your voice is sacred.

And it’s time.

If you're ready to begin unmuting your truth, I’m here to walk beside you.

With compassion.

With lived understanding.

With tools that honour your healing — and your power.

💜 This is your invitation to speak. To feel. To reclaim.

One breath at a time.

One truth at a time.

I’ll meet you there.

If you're on your own journey to find your voice, I invite you to stay connected:

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You can read more about my journey here

With love, always,

Nina 💖💜

'Your voice is sacred. And It's Your Time'