What No One Taught You About Abuse

Let’s stop softening the truth:

If it scared you, it was abuse.
If it left you walking on eggshells, it was abuse.
If it left bruises — on your body or your spirit — it was abuse.

And no —
“Everyone gets angry sometimes” is not a justification.
“It's just how they show love” is not an excuse.
And “they didn’t mean to” does not make it okay.

Abuse is not a miscommunication.
It’s a repeated violation of your safety, trust, and sense of self.

It is:

– Screaming that shatters your nervous system
– Slaps, grabs, shoves that leave your body flinching for days
– Apologies that come only after the damage is done
– Threats disguised as love
– Silence used as punishment
– Jealousy framed as “just caring”
– Power disguised as protection
– Shame passed off as guidance

Abuse can be:

– Emotional
– Physical
– Sexual
– Verbal
– Psychological
– Energetic

It doesn’t matter what form it took —
If it harmed you, it counts.
And it is not your fault.

Abuse Can Come From Anyone

It’s not just partners.

It can come from:

– A parent
– A sibling
– A friend
– A teacher
– A mentor
– A spiritual figure
– A partner who swore they loved you

But let’s say this plainly:

Love does not make you afraid to exist.
Love does not leave you bruised.
Love does not require your silence to survive.

What About the Soul? Did I Choose This?

Maybe your soul agreed to walk through it.
But it did not agree to stay trapped in it.
It did not agree to carry shame for it.
It did not agree to call it love.

Even if your soul saw it as a path for growth —
you are still allowed to be angry.
You are still allowed to say: This should not have happened.

Pain does not make you holy.
Suffering is not your identity.
You are not here to be punished.

You’re here to remember who you are, and sometimes the remembering begins with rage.

As a Child, You Couldn't Escape

This is especially important.

If you were abused as a child:
You were not weak. You were surviving.

You didn’t have the language.
You didn’t have the power.
You didn’t have the option to leave.
You needed them to survive — and they knew that.

You may have:

– Shut down
– Zoned out
– Learned to read the room like your life depended on it
– Became “the good one” to avoid the explosion
– Took care of others just to stay safe
– Learned to disappear

Those were not flaws.
Those were survival instincts.
Your body did what it had to do.

But now?

Now you get to break the contract.
Now you get to stop carrying their wounds as your identity.

As an Adult — You Can Leave

If you’re in it now —
If you’re still being yelled at, shoved, manipulated, degraded —

You are allowed to walk away.

Even if they apologize.
Even if they say they’ll change.
Even if it only happened “a few times.”
Even if no one believes you.
Even if they cry, or say you’re all they have.
Even if you love them.

Abuse is not love.
Control is not care.
Pain is not a price you have to pay to be chosen.

You are not imagining things.
You are not overreacting.
You are waking up.

And yes — it hurts.
But staying will hurt longer.

What Happens When You Leave?

It won’t feel clean. It won’t feel easy.
It might feel like a death.
But then — something happens.

– Your body starts breathing again
– You sleep without flinching
– You look in the mirror and recognize your own eyes
– You start to feel peace in the silence
– You stop apologizing for things that weren’t your fault

You don’t just leave the person.
You leave the version of yourself who tolerated it.

And in that space?
You begin to live.

This Is For You

If no one told you yet:

You didn’t deserve it.
You don’t have to make excuses for them.
You don’t need to stay in touch.
You don’t need to forgive before you're ready.
You don’t need closure.
You don’t owe them your healing.

What you do need is truth.

And the truth is:

– You are not crazy
– You are not too sensitive
– You are not broken
– You are waking up
– You are still here
– You are allowed to leave
– You are allowed to heal
– You are allowed to protect your peace

Even if your voice shakes.
Even if you don’t know what’s next.
Even if all you know is: “I can’t do this anymore.”

That knowing is enough.
That’s the door.
And you have permission to walk through it.

Personal Note

What I Couldn’t Touch Until I Did

Some days felt like years.
Every morning felt like Russian roulette.
One loud footstep, and my chest locked.
One sharp look, and my throat closed.
I never knew who I’d get. I just knew I had to survive them.

That’s what abuse does — especially when it comes from the people who were supposed to love and protect you.

It trains your nervous system to live on edge.
It teaches your body that love means fear.
It buries rage so deep, you start to believe it’s yours.

Especially when it’s family.
Especially when it’s your parents.

The Last Wound I Touched

I didn’t want to go there.
I couldn’t before.
The betrayal was too deep.
The grief — too overwhelming.

But then when I was ready to hold it without collapse—it surfaced.
Not politely. Not cleanly.

The rage came. The nightmares. The suffocation in my chest that I couldn’t explain for years.

No, it wasn’t pretty.
It was loud. Messy. Uncomfortable.
But you know what’s worse than feeling it?

Holding it for decades.

Holding it in your bones.
Holding it in your sleep.
Holding it in your relationships.
Holding it in your silence — while it slowly kills parts of you.

And Then… The Lightness Came

After the rage. After the loud cry. After the truth came out of my mouth, finally —
there was something else:

Peace.

A kind of peace I had never known.
Not because they changed.
Not because I got closure.
But because I came home to myself.

And the abuse in a relationship?

This part is sharp — but it’s the truth:

No, it won’t get better.
No, it wasn’t “just one time.”
Yes, they will do it again.
No, they don’t love you — they love control.
Yes, that’s hard to accept. But it’s harder to stay.

You’re not weak. You’re not naive.
You loved fully. You gave your heart.

But that love?
It’s time to give it back to yourself.

To your safety.
To your nervous system.
To the part of you that is still waiting to feel protected.

One Final Truth

You couldn’t protect yourself as a child.
But you can now.

And the first step?

Stop calling it love.