the small death of not being believed 🫀🌧️

Few things make you feel lonelier than telling the truth and watching someone doubt it. You explain what happened, how it felt, what it did to you 🌧️ And they tilt their head, minimize it, defend the other person, or ask for proof like your shaking voice isn't enough.

I'm sorry if that happened 🫀🤍 Not being believed can make you question your own memory. It can make you shrink the story, soften the harm, wonder if maybe you are dramatic after all. Please don't let someone else's discomfort rewrite your reality. You know what your body lived through. You know what changed in you afterward. You do not need a courtroom full of approval for your pain to be real. Find the people who don't make you audition for compassion. Tell the truth where it can breathe. Tonight, let this sentence sit beside you: 'I believe me.' It may feel small. It is not small. Sometimes it's the first brick of coming back to yourself 🌙