Hello, I am not here to provide a perfect narrative. I am here to provide the truth.
I was a child when the first shadow crossed my path. A teacher placed me on his lap. Maybe it did not look wrong to others—but I remember the fear. I did not know what to call it. I still remember the weight of that moment.
Then there was my dad. He did not hit me in public. But when we were alone, his words bled my soul. He questioned my smile, my friends, my freedom. I was never safe in my own home, in my own body.
I grew up with fear. And silence.
I wasn't allowed to have friends. My father scared them away. He asked questions that made them uncomfortable. I was made into a girl with no crew, no freedom, no safe place to laugh.
When I fell in love, I thought I was running away at last. He loved me before marriage—talked to me lovingly. But after marriage, he became a different person. A man who only listened to his family members. A man who never protected me.
I was pregnant when he talked to his ex-girlfriend. I cried silently at night. Nobody cared. Nobody asked if I was okay.
I was ill, hurting after giving birth. I worked as though nothing had occurred. No one held me. No one thanked me for bringing a new life into the world. Not even my husband.
I am writing this not for sympathy.
I am writing this because I've had enough silence.
I lost my friends. I lost my dreams. I lost the girl I once was.
But now, I write.
I write for all the women who have ever sobbed quietly in the kitchen.
For all the daughters whose voices were never heard.
For all the mothers who still manage to smile through the hurt.
Thank you for reading.
