The Truth I Can’t Soften Anymore

I used to think healing meant fixing myself… until I realized some of the damage came from the people who were supposed to protect me.

I started my day in tears.

I keep asking myself the same question— why does it feel like my own family doesn’t like me?

Is it because I struggle?

Because my mental health isn’t neat and quiet?

Because I feel things deeply and don’t pretend otherwise?

So the answer is to push me away instead of help me?

I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to feel like this. And I definitely didn’t ask to be part of a family that makes me feel like I don’t belong in it.

And I’m angry.

Not a little irritated—angry.

The kind of anger that builds over years. The kind that comes from being hurt over and over and watching people act like nothing ever happened.

Being told I hurt people… but no one can actually tell me how.

Watching boundaries get crossed… and somehow I’m the problem for reacting to it.

And if I’m being honest— there’s one moment I can’t ignore anymore.

My aunt’s husband walked around naked in front of me and my kids. Not once. Not accidentally. And I said something. I set a boundary. I made it clear that it wasn’t okay. And instead of being backed up… instead of someone saying “you’re right, that shouldn’t have happened”— it got minimized. Excused. Turned into something I was “overreacting” to.

That’s the part that stays with me.

Because it wasn’t just about what happened— it was about the fact that no one protected us after.

Hearing “family first”… from people who didn’t protect mine. My kids were put in a situation they should have never been in. And somehow me saying “no more” made me the problem.

No.

If protecting my daughters makes me the villain in their story, then I’ll take that role without hesitation. Because my job was never to keep the peace. It was to keep my children safe. And I would do it again. Every single time.

What hurts the most isn’t just what happened— it’s what didn’t happen after.

No accountability. No real conversations. No one standing up and saying, “that wasn’t okay.”

Just silence. Avoidance. Deflection.

And I’m done pretending that doesn’t affect me.

I’m done trying to be the understanding one in situations that were never okay to begin with.

And yeah… it leaves me here feeling like I don’t belong anywhere. Like I’m floating outside of something that’s supposed to feel like “home.”

That part?

That part breaks me a little.

But I’m starting to realize something— I may never understand why.

And maybe the real work is accepting that closure isn’t coming from them. It has to come from me.

Because I can’t keep waiting for people to suddenly become who I needed them to be.

So where does that leave me?

Not healed. Not okay.

Still angry.

But also… no longer willing to shrink, silence myself, or accept things that don’t sit right in my soul. I’m not lost.

I’m just finally seeing things for what they are— and refusing to be part of something that isn’t real.

Because I’d rather stand alone in the truth than stay surrounded by people who pretend everything is fine.

And maybe that’s what this is…

Not the end of me— but the end of pretending

~Tj 🩷