Silent Scars, Loud Promises: Breaking the Cycle of Pain

Some wounds don’t bleed, but they never stop hurting. Growing up in a toxic environment isn’t just painful—it changes you. It shapes the way you think, the way you trust, the way you see yourself. And sometimes, you look back and wonder, How the hell did I survive all that?

The Moments That Broke Me

I remember being in 6th grade. A classmate messed up, but somehow, I was the one accused. Scared and desperate to clear my name, I called my mom. I thought she’d listen. I thought she’d defend me. Instead, she walked into my school and slapped me—right there, in front of everyone—without even asking what happened. That was the day I decided: No matter what happens, I will never ask for help again. Because I knew the truth wouldn’t matter. I would always be the one blamed.

Then came 12th grade. I didn’t do well on a revision test. I knew if my parents saw my marks, they’d be worried sick, so I made a choice—I didn’t tell them about the parent-teacher meeting. The next day, our principal called out the students whose parents didn’t show up. One by one, they lied: She’s out of town. He’s not feeling well. They got caught up with work. The principal let them all go. Then he turned to me. I told him the truth: Sir, I got low marks. I didn’t want to stress my parents. Please forgive me this time. I promise I’ll do better. He didn’t forgive me. Instead, he made me kneel at the school entrance—humiliated, punished for being honest. That was the day I learned: Honesty doesn’t always get you justice. Sometimes, it just gets you hurt.

The Weight of Their Words

It wasn’t just the big moments. It was the everyday ones, too.

• Forget to turn off a switch? You’re good for nothing.

• Break something by accident? Can’t you do a single thing right?

Little by little, those words got inside me. They became the voice in my head. You’re useless. You’ll fail at everything. No matter how hard you try, it’ll never be enough. I cried myself to sleep more nights than I can count. I cried in the bathroom, in the dark, in silence—because I knew no one would listen. No one would care. And if I ever tried to talk about it? You’re overthinking. You’re exaggerating. Just stop making things so complicated.

So I stopped talking. I stopped asking for help. And slowly, I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, they were right about me.

The Darkness That Followed

The worst part wasn’t even the pain. It was the loneliness. The feeling that no matter how much I screamed inside, no one would ever hear me. I struggled with thoughts no one should have. I wanted to escape. I wanted the pain to end. But every single time, there was one truth that kept me going: No one saved me. I had to save myself.

Breaking the Cycle

I made a promise to myself—one that I will never break:

• I will never make anyone feel the way I was made to feel.

• I will listen when someone needs to be heard.

• I will never judge someone for their struggles.

• I will be kind, even when the world isn’t.

• I will love and support others the way I desperately needed when I was younger.

Pain changes people. It can make them bitter, or it can make them better. I choose better. I choose to be the person I needed back then. Because no one should have to feel as alone as I did. No one should have to beg for kindness. And if I can be the reason someone feels seen, heard, or loved—then maybe, just maybe, all the suffering was worth it.

I survived. And I will make damn sure others don’t just survive, but live.