💌 To the One Still in Silence
If you’re reading this, and you haven’t told anyone yet—
Not the truth, not the full story, not even the parts you whisper to yourself when no one’s around—
Please know this:
I see you.
Not because I know your exact pain.
But because I know what it feels like to hold it all in.
To walk around smiling while your chest feels like it’s caving in.
To question whether what happened was “bad enough” to count.
To wonder if anyone would believe you.
To doubt if your silence protects you… or just hides you.
I know what it’s like to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did.
To tell yourself, “It wasn’t that serious. Other people have it worse.”
To swallow your truth so often that even you start to lose the taste of it.
But here’s something no one told me when I was where you are:
Silence doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
Silence doesn’t make it your fault.
Silence doesn’t mean you’re weak.
Silence doesn’t get to define your story.
The fact that you’re still here — carrying what they did, what they said, what they made you believe — and still functioning, still waking up, still hoping there’s more for you?
That’s strength. Not everyone will recognize it. But I do.
You don’t owe the world your trauma just to prove it happened.
But I want you to know — you’re allowed to speak. Even if your voice shakes. Even if your words are messy. Even if it’s just a whisper. You’re allowed to let it out, piece by piece, or all at once. On your terms. In your time.
And until you do?
This space — this letter — will hold what you can’t say yet.
You are not invisible.
You are not overreacting.
You are not the reason.
You are so much more than what happened to you.
When you’re ready, I’ll still be here.
No pressure. No timeline.
Just a hand held out across the silence.
With all the strength I had to find the hard way,
I believe you.
I honor you.
I’m with you.
— Someone who was once silent, too