“It Wasn’t Just Words”

A love letter to the ones still healing from what can’t always be seen.

Not all scars are visible.

Not all bruises fade in a week.

And not all wounds come from hands.

We talk a lot about physical abuse—and we should. It’s serious. It’s dangerous. It’s real.But what we don’t talk about enough is the kind of abuse that doesn’t leave black eyes or broken bones.The kind that leaves you questioning your worth.

Your memory.

Your sanity.

Mental, emotional, and verbal abuse are often swept under the rug because they don’t look like “abuse.” But let me tell you: they are. And they leave damage just as deep—sometimes deeper—because the pain seeps into the parts of you no one else can see.

We aren’t trying to play the victim when we speak up.

We’re trying to explain why we are the way we are.

Why we flinch when someone raises their voice.

Why we overthink every text, every pause, every silence.

Why we say sorry for things we didn’t do.

Why we’re scared to trust even when we want to so badly.

We’re not being dramatic.

We’re protecting ourselves.

We’re still healing.

Still growing.

Still learning to feel safe in our own minds again.

Trauma rewires the brain.

That’s not a poetic statement—it’s neuroscience.Repeated emotional harm can cause changes to the amygdala, hippocampus, and prefrontal cortex—parts of the brain that regulate fear, memory, and decision-making. So no, we don’t react the same way other people might. We may dissociate. We may spiral. We may shut down.

Not because we want to.

Because somewhere along the way, our brains were taught that danger can sound like a slammed door, a sarcastic tone, or being told, “You’re too sensitive.”

And if that sounds exhausting to you—imagine what it feels like to live it.

You don’t have to fully understand it.But if you care, you’ll try.

Try being a little more gentle.

A little more patient.

A little softer.

Not because we’re fragile—but because we’ve been hardened by things we never asked for.

People like me—like us—we love deeply. Because for so long, we didn’t get to.We didn’t get the chance to feel safe, to be vulnerable, to be ourselves without being punished for it.

Now, we’re just asking for a kind of love that feels like safety—not survival.

We’re not looking for perfection. We’re just looking for peace.

So if you love someone who’s been through this—don’t make them prove their pain.Make them feel safe enough to heal from it.

Because even mascara-streaked cheeks and salty margaritas can’t drown out the ache of a voice that was once silenced.

But they can be a part of the healing.

And damn it, we deserve to heal