If Week 1 was about shock, Week 2 is about the aftermath that runs deeper—the truths I wasn’t supposed to say out loud.

These poems face what it means to grow up in silence, to be told your voice is dangerous, to be shaped by parents who chose control over care. They also call out the kind of harm that doesn’t like to be named.

As mentioned in my 9/1/25 Real Talk post, my mother died in early 2024 due to her own stubbornness and failing to follow medical advice at her doctors. To compound that, my father, who was afraid of my mother’s threats, did not seek medical aid for her nor did he contact me to support him in handling my mother’s behavior.

While my father is a very good man, who provided for the family, emotionally he was not there. I don’t ever blame him for that because, you can’t mirror what you were never shown.

But my mother… My mother was verbally and physically abusive. When I got the courage to tell her, as a young child, that I was being hurt by another adult, my mother did not believe me. She “knew the adult”, “they wouldn’t do that”, “I must’ve been lying”, “I must’ve seen something on TV”. When I claimed I would go tell my father…there was consequences for saying those words.

Unfortunately, it was not known I was neurodivergent, so in my mind if my own mother wouldn’t believe me why would any other adult?

The poems this week: “What I wasn’t Allowed to Know”, “The Things I Couldn’t Say While You Were Still Breathing” (2 part poem to parents) and “I Remember You, Even When I Wish I Didn’t” (poem to abuser) are as Raw as Raw can be.

This is not easy subject matter. It wasn’t easy to live, and it isn’t easy to write. But silence has teeth, and I have decided not to let them keep tearing at me.

You’ll read about neglect. About abuse. About the kind of damage that hides under “family loyalty.” These aren’t accusations written for spectacle or debate—they are truths written to reclaim space.

⚠️ Content note: The poems in this week contain references to parental neglect and sexual abuse by a family friend. Please care for yourself first. Step away if you need to. I name them so they can be skipped. I will add a content advisory warning before all of them. My story doesn’t need to cost you your peace.

I share these not to sensationalize or open debate/discussion, but because healing requires honesty. Because naming what happened is the only way I know how to stop it from owning me.

If these pieces reach into your own story: breathe. You are not alone.