The Days I Went Missing in Plain Sight

The Days I Went Missing in Plain Sight

There were entire weeks where I was present — but gone.

Messages I answered that I couldn’t remember sending.

People I smiled at while wondering if they noticed I was hollow inside.

I wasn’t hiding.

I was disappearing the only way I knew how:

By staying visible enough to avoid questions,

but quiet enough to stop burdening anyone else with answers.

They tell you trauma comes from the event.

But that’s only part of the truth.

The real trauma came after.

In the slow-motion unraveling of being misunderstood,

and then misrepresented,

and finally — not represented at all.

I wasn’t asking for sympathy.

I was asking to be seen.

Not as a problem. Not as a story. Not as a case.

Just as a person still breathing through it.

But the world doesn’t wait.

It scrolls past. It forgets.

It makes assumptions and mistakes them for reality.

I started missing from my own life.

My routines became camouflage.

I could go entire days without speaking my own truth —

just recycling responses that wouldn’t get me in trouble,

wouldn’t trigger another round of “Are you okay?”

Because how do you say:

I don’t know who I am right now — but I know I’m not the version they wrote about.

This is what makes the return so long.

It’s not just recovering from what happened.

It’s finding the you that went missing during the fallout.

The version of yourself that didn’t just survive —

but never stopped hoping someone would ask the right question.

The version that needs time.

And space.

And witnesses who don’t disappear when the story isn’t clean or easy.

There are days I still disappear a little.

But the difference now is:

I leave a breadcrumb trail behind.

A post.

A sentence.

A file.

A footprint that says:

I’m here. I’m finding my way back.

And this time, I’m taking others with me.

To everyone who’s ever vanished inside their own survival:

I see you.

Even when you’re not ready to be seen.

Especially then.

This isn’t the end of your story.

It’s just the middle.

And we’re walking the long return together.