Unlearning
None of that was love.
Not the control.
Not the silence.
Not the way you shrank to survive.
None of that was your responsibility.
You were not the fixer.
Not the shield.
Not the explanation for someone else’s damage.
And none of that—
not one bruise on your spirit—
was your fault.
You’re unlearning that now.
Slowly.
Like pulling splinters from memory.
Like teaching your body
that raised voices
are not weather you have to endure.
You are naming the harm.
You are naming the pain.
And the naming
is a kind of rebellion.
You are stepping into a different kind of truth—
one where your mental health matters.
Where your boundaries matter.
Where your safety
is not negotiable.
This is not selfish.
This is survival
turning into self-respect.
This is you
choosing yourself
without apology.
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