I didn’t set out to tell this story to punish anyone. I’m telling it because silence became heavier than the truth. For a long time, I questioned whether what happened to me even “counted.” There were no bruises people could point to. No single explosive moment that made everything obvious. What there was instead was a slow erosion — of confidence, safety, clarity, and eventually my sense of self. I was involved with someone who held emotional power over me. On the surface, everything looked ideal. He was polished, composed, generous — a gentleman by every outward measure . To the outside world, he appeared thoughtful and attentive, the kind of person others admired. His image was carefully maintained. Over time, I began to feel invisible. Conversations became destabilizing. My reactions were scrutinized and dissected, while his behavior went largely unquestioned. I found myself apologizing frequently — sometimes without fully understanding what I was apologizing for. I did no...
Comments
Post a Comment