Every time I swallowed the truth, someone else got fed.Fed with power.Fed with protection.Fed with the benefit of the doubt. But it wasn’t me.
from Sora
Every time I swallowed the truth, someone else got fed.
Fed with power.
Fed with protection.
Fed with the benefit of the doubt.
But it wasn’t me.
🗣️ Silence Is Not Neutral
They tell us silence is peaceful.
That it’s the “mature” thing to do.
That “not everything needs to be said.”
But let’s ask the real question:
Who benefits from my silence?
When I don’t name the harm, the harm-doer gets to stay comfortable.
When I downplay what happened, the system gets to keep functioning without change.
When I stay quiet, society gets to pretend everything is okay.
Meanwhile, my body carries the grief.
My mind twists to protect their image.
My spirit folds itself into a smaller shape.
🤐 Silence Often Protects the Wrong People
Let’s be clear:
Silence has never protected the abused—it protects the abuser.
Silence doesn’t build safety—it maintains injustice.
Silence doesn’t mean healing—it often means hiding.
If you’ve been conditioned to think that your voice is “too much,”
maybe, ask yourself:
Who taught you that? And what did they stand to gain?
🔥 Speak—Even If Only to Yourself
This doesn’t mean you owe your story to the world.
You don’t have to speak on stages or post online.
But you do deserve to hear your own truth out loud.
In a journal.
In a whisper.
In therapy.
In prayer.
Because your silence may have protected others before.
But your voice will protect you now.
💥 Final Reflection
When I was silent, they thrived.
When I spoke, I began to live.
Your silence was once a survival skill.
But survival is not the goal anymore.
Safety in my soul is.
✨ Companion Affirmations:
I am no longer trading my truth for temporary peace.
I deserve relationships where honesty is the standard, not the exception.
I release the need to protect people who ask me to lie to myself.
I will no longer silence myself just to keep the peace—especially when that peace is built on my pain.
The truth does not make me difficult. The truth makes me free.
I trust what I saw. I trust what I felt. I trust what I know.
If a relationship requires my silence to survive, it’s not a relationship—it’s a performance.
I will not lie to protect someone who would not protect me.
My voice is not dangerous. It is divine.
I can speak the truth softly or boldly—but I will speak it.
I no longer fear being “too much” for people who wanted me small, quiet, and easy to control.
I deserve to live in relationships where I don’t have to disappear to be loved.
