That’s the thing about trauma: it distorts not just your past, but your present. It dulls your senses. It has a way of trapping you in a loop, like a needle stuck on the same broken record. You can’t break free until you break down—or, as I now see it, break through.

In a world that pulls at you from every direction, a world that clamors for your attention with bright screens, endless notifications, and demands disguised as opportunities, the idea of turning inward feels almost radical. Imagine, for a moment, what might happen if you gave yourself the attention you so freely give to everything else. Imagine the kind of power you could reclaim.

I used to sit in silence when I needed help. I told myself no one cared, no one had time, that my struggles belonged to me alone. This silence was not noble; it was suffocating. It pulled me inward, away from the people I loved, away from the rhythm of the world.