From My Heart to Yours

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.

Even as a little girl, I knew what was happening was wrong. I knew it wasn’t supposed to feel like that. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be scared in my own skin. I didn’t have the words, but I had the knowing. That sacred inner compass we’re all born with—that gut feeling, that flutter of resistance—I had that. I just wasn’t allowed to follow it.

There was a time when I believed silence was strength. That swallowing my pain made me resilient. That if I didn’t speak about the hurt, maybe it didn’t really happen. It became my version of safety. But underneath that silence was something even heavier —A fear that if I did speak, no one would believe me. That my truth would be questioned, dissected, dismissed. That I’d be told I was overreacting, exaggerating, or making it up.

For a long time now, I’ve wanted to start a blog. Why? Good question. One I asked myself over and over again—as a form of procrastination, let’s be honest—for months. I love to write, and I believe I have something to say.  Actually, I know I do.  I have quite a lot to say. And over the next few days, months, and years, I’ll do my best to fill the world with what I have to say because— “I was taught to be silent. Now I am teaching myself to speak.”