I grew up learning how to survive rooms I never felt safe in. Silence was dangerous, anger was normal and the only rule was to keep your mouth shut about everything that hurt.

Fast forward to adulthood and that survival mode did not just disappear. It followed me like a shadow with a knife.

For years I numbed the pain in every unhealthy way I could find. Self medicating until the memories blurred. Acting like I was the toughest one in the room just so nobody would see how broken I really was. I tried so hard to look strong that I didn’t realize I was slowly killing myself from the inside out.

May 12, 2021… that was the day everything changed. I hit a point where the self medicating was not enough anymore. The darkness felt too heavy. I was tired of running. Tired of pretending. Tired of being alive but not really living. That was the day I finally asked for help with shaking hands and a voice that barely worked. And yeah… that felt like failure at first.

Truth?… I wish someone would have told me sooner. Admitting you are struggling is not losing. It is the first time you actually fight back.

These days I still have moments where my mind tries to drag me back into old places. Nights where the anxiety hits hard and the room feels like it is closing in. Days where I wake up and feel like I am right back at the bottom again.

I keep going anyway, not because every day feels strong… most do not. I keep going because I made myself a promise. I will not let the kid who fought through all that hell grow up just to quit.

If anyone reading this is stuck in that same quiet battle… I want you to hear this from someone who has lived deep in the dark…

You are not the problem. The pain you carry is coming from somewhere real. You don’t have to keep carrying it alone.

If you are comfortable…

What is one thing you are facing right now that feels heavier than people know?

I will listen. No judgment. No lectures. Just someone who gets it.