“The Unspoken Wounds”

When I was still in elementary school, something happened that I never told anyone — not even my adoptive parents till they all passed away.

One of my uncles, from my adoptive mother’s side of the family, behaved in a way that was completely inappropriate. He crossed a boundary that no adult should ever cross with a child. I was too young to fully understand what was happening, but I knew it made me uncomfortable. I felt frozen, confused, and afraid.

After that, I remember dreading the times when my adoptive mother would ask me to come along and visit his home. I couldn’t explain why. I just knew I didn’t want to go. That fear stayed quietly buried inside me — I didn’t speak up. I was a little girl, unsure of what I had experienced, and more certain that if I did say something, I wouldn’t be believed.

Looking back now, I understand the weight of that silence. I know that experience lodged itself deep into my subconscious — and it followed me into adulthood, especially in my relationships with men.

Throughout my love life, I noticed a painful pattern. I would fall in love — deeply, genuinely — but the feelings were rarely mutual. Time after time, it was me who cared, and them who didn’t. It felt like I was always giving my heart, but it was never accepted. Never returned.

There were no happy endings. No romantic chapters worth telling.

It’s only now that I realize how much that early trauma shaped the way I saw myself, and how I viewed love. It planted fear. It distorted my sense of worth. And because I never spoke about it, that pain became a quiet filter through which I viewed the world — especially the part of it that was supposed to bring connection, romance, and trust.

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This story is a part of my personal journey. Please do not copy or reproduce any part of it without permission. Sharing is welcome with proper credit and a link to this blog