I’m more damaged than I let on 🩹
Sometimes, the hardest wounds to heal are the ones hidden beneath the surface. I’ve experienced moments when I felt more broken than anyone around me could see, which made it difficult to ask for support or even admit to myself that I needed help. Over time, I learned that acknowledging this inner damage is the first step toward healing. Painting or other creative outlets can be powerful tools for expressing emotions that are too complex or painful for words. In my own journey, I found that turning those feelings into art allowed me to process the brokenness and gradually build strength. It’s important to remember that healing isn’t linear; there are good days and setbacks—but each step forward is meaningful. Sharing your story, whether through journaling, talking with trusted friends, or engaging with supportive communities, can reduce feelings of isolation. The hashtags #heal, #shareyourthoughts, and #relatablequotes reflect common themes many of us face when dealing with emotional wounds. You’re not alone, and opening up can lead to unexpected connections and encouragement. If you find yourself feeling 'more damaged than you let on,' try to give yourself grace. Vulnerability is a form of courage, not weakness. Seeking professional help or joining healing-focused groups can also provide structured support as you work through complex emotions. Remember, true healing comes from both self-compassion and the willingness to confront your pain, no matter how broken you believe you are.
So I’m a bit dumb so is this SA this is my story: so my cousin was 20 at the time and I was 9 and he didn’t have anywhere to stay so my dad let him stay over. So of course since he was my cousin I was all friendly since I was little too back then, and then one time I was with my brother in his room watching him play games and my cousin came in, sat beside me, pulled the covers up to our legs. And he started rubbing my clit (I don’t like writing that word😭) and he told me to stay quiet and just as a note my parents were out. So I stayed quiet. Then the second time he told me to come in his room and closed the door behind us and he told me if I give him a kiss he would give me a dollar, like a whole as French kiss. And I haven’t told anyone because I thought they would judge me. And then I finally decided to tell my parents and yeah they took care of it. That’s my story.