Living with Hidden Trauma: One Survivor’s Story of Silent Grief and Unseen Strength

Everyone writes a chapter of their life that stays hidden away in a dusty old place or maybe tucked far far away in the recesses of our mind, its presence goes unnoticed and unknown. 

It’s never read aloud, or even murmured, if its existence were ever found, the very soul would be exposed. 

There is a pain that sits silently in the corners of our souls, a darkness that grows heavier with every passing day.

We learn to live with it, to hide our tears, and pretend that everything is fine.

But the truth is, we are all fighting battles that no one else can see, carrying burdens that no one else can feel.

And some days, we just want to stop fighting, stop pretending, and let the sadness, pain, regrets, shame, vulnerability, insecurity, trauma, abuse, and the black hole of sadness that wants to swallow us whole win. For more than half my life, I worked to stop my own awful chapter from becoming my entire story. I allowed it to define me; I chose a profession where I was completely enveloped in others’ chapters of grief.

I wore their pain and sorrow like a favorite sweater I couldn’t take off. Ironically, I wore sweaters to work every single day. I thought if I took their sorrow and pain away, I could forget mine for maybe just a minute or two. But mine was always buried beneath theirs: mine, my ever-silent partner, theirs on display for all the world to see.

I was good at it, comfortable with pain. I was able to grieve with people but to also grieve for myself, secretly. It sounds selfish now. I gave everything I had to anyone who needed it, they each took a small piece of me without ever even knowing it.

If you are a survivor of child sexual abuse, know this: you are not alone, and healing is possible. Saprea offers free healing resources specifically for adult survivors. Explore tools, connect with others who understand, and begin your journey toward healing.

You are not your past. You are not your pain. You are worthy of healing—and there is hope.