For much of my life, I learned that speaking my truth felt unsafe. So I carried it instead. For years, I believed my silence kept me safe. So I swallowed my questions. I swallowed my grief. I swallowed my anger. I swallowed my needs. Until the words I never spoke became a weight I could no longer carry.

Today I understand that healing is not found in perfect silence. Healing begins the moment I give voice to what has lived inside me all along. My story deserves to be heard. And so do I.