I was just a boy…
small hands, soft voice,
trust as pure as morning light.
But innocence can be stolen quietly
by the very people meant to protect it.
She was older…
a house help trusted in our home,
trusted with me.
But trust can become a weapon
in the wrong hands.
I didn’t have the language
for what happened.
Didn’t know how wrong it was.
All I knew
was that something inside me broke
before I ever learned how to fix things.
I wanted to tell my parents…
but how do you explain a wound
you don’t understand?
How do you speak a shame
you shouldn’t even carry?
So I swallowed it,
hid it behind laughter,
buried it beneath schoolwork,
locked it inside the boy
I left behind.
Years passed.
My voice deepened,
my shoulders broadened,
but the child in me
still trembled in the dark.
Trauma grows in silence,
it matures with you,
sleeps beside you,
wakes with you,
and whispers your fears
in a language only your pain understands.
I became a man
haunted by a childhood
no one knew happened.
A man smiling outside,
but bleeding inside.
A man functioning,
yet fractured.
But one day,
the weight became too heavy
for the strength I pretended to have.
I broke.
And maybe breaking
was the first honest thing
I had done in years.
So I walked into therapy
with trembling hands,
sat across from a stranger
and told them the story
I couldn’t tell my own parents.
A story I had locked away
so well
that even my reflection
didn’t know it.
Therapy was not magic,
it was work.
Hard work.
It was opening wounds
I spent a lifetime hiding.
It was learning
that what happened to me
was not my fault.
Not my shame.
Not my burden to carry alone.
It was understanding
that healing is not forgetting,
healing is remembering
without breaking.
Healing is letting the boy I buried
finally breathe
and come home to the man I am becoming.
And so today…
I speak.
Not in whispers,
not in fear,
but in truth.
To the child I was,
you survived.
To the man I am,
you are rising.
To the pain I carried,
you no longer define me.
I sought closure…
and found courage.
I sought healing…
and found myself.
This is my journey,
from silence
to voice,
from trauma
to truth,
from brokenness
to becoming whole again.
I didn’t choose what happened to me.
But I choose what happens next.
And today…
I choose to heal.
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1MKkLP3tbs
Defilements break and shatter the most strong parts.
Leave a Reply