Some of the Worst Damage Was Done by People Who Thought They Were Protecting Me

Some of the Worst Damage Was Done by People Who Thought They Were Protecting Me

Not everyone who hurt me meant to.

But intention never erased impact.

And silence didn’t make their actions any less loud inside my life.

I used to think the real threat came from the people who lied about me.

The posts. The whispers. The ones who called me names they knew would stick.

But over time, I learned something even harder to admit:

Some of the deepest cuts came from people who loved me —

but loved me more when I wasn’t talking about what hurt.

They said things like:

“Just focus on healing.”

“Don’t make it worse.”

“They want a reaction — don’t give them one.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone.”

And in some small ways, maybe they were right.

But what I heard was:

“Don’t be inconvenient.”

“Your pain is making people uncomfortable.”

“We’d rather keep the peace than defend you out loud.”

I don’t think they meant to abandon me.

They probably thought they were calming things down.

Keeping me safe.

Shielding me from escalation.

But when someone loses their name online,

when their version of the truth is buried under pages of falsehoods,

the worst thing you can do isn’t betrayal —

it’s neutrality.

Because when you stand back while someone’s being publicly rewritten,

you become part of the silence that makes the lie seem real.

I needed people who would risk being uncomfortable for the sake of truth.

Not just people who believed me in private.

Not just quiet reassurances.

Not just “I’m here for you” behind closed doors.

I needed witnesses.

I needed loud loyalty.

Not because I was trying to be dramatic —

but because the damage wasn’t subtle.

And my healing couldn’t be either.

The Long Return isn’t just about what was done to me.

It’s about what I had to unlearn from those who thought their silence was love.

I had to forgive some people

not because they didn’t hurt me —

but because they didn’t know how not to.

And now?

I don’t need protection that comes at the cost of my truth.

I don’t need comfort that makes me invisible.

What I need is presence.

Accountability.

Community that doesn’t fold under pressure.

And if I can’t find it?

I’ll build it.

One honest post at a time.