The Sign That Broke Me (And Saved Me)….

Fk the Sign – And Pass Me a Megaphone….

You know those moments in life where something small and stupid happens, like Bully putting up a petty, passive-aggressive sign, and for some reason, it’s that thing that pushes you over the edge?

Yeah. That was me.

That damn sign is still there, by the way.

I don’t even know why it hit me so hard, but it did. It wasn’t just about the sign. It was about everything I’ve swallowed over the years. Every time I bit my tongue. Every time I made myself small to keep the peace. Every time I let someone twist the story so they wouldn’t have to look at themselves. Every time I was made to feel like I was crazy, difficult, overreacting, or “too sensitive.”

That stupid sign cracked open a lifetime of things I didn’t know I was still carrying.

So I started writing.

I didn’t plan to. I just sat down and started telling the truth. About narcissistic family dynamics. About generational silence. About what it does to your soul when you’re told to sit down, shut up, and be the bigger person one too many times.

And here’s the thing: people started reaching out. Strangers. Friends I hadn’t heard from in years. People telling me:

“I felt like you were writing about my life.”
“I’ve never told anyone this, but…”
“You speak to the parts of me I thought no one would understand.”

And it made me wonder… was this a coincidence? Or was it the universe , or my higher self, or my granny’s stubborn spirit, shoving me down a road I was too scared to walk?

Maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the healing starts. Maybe when one person finds the courage to speak, it gives others permission to do the same.

So this is me throwing the door open.

If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of narcissistic abuse, family gaslighting, emotional manipulation, or felt like the outsider in your own damn home, tell your story. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s angry. Even if it scares you.

Because I’m starting to believe our stories matter more than we’ve been led to think.

Drop it in the comments. Message me privately. Write it in a journal. Whisper it to a tree. But get it out. You deserve that.

We all do.


Comments

21 responses to “The Sign That Broke Me (And Saved Me)….”

  1. Very inspiring. You’re so right. I very much believe in the importance of stories. We are a story species.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, and I completely agree with you. Stories are how we make sense of ourselves, our past, and each other. They’re the thread that keeps us connected across time. I think the ones we tell, and the ones we’ve yet to tell, matter more than we realize.
      Mae 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Hello Mae,
    Greetings from Japan.
    Thank you for sharing so openly and honestly. Family dynamics seems to be a global phenomenon… I agree that our stories are important and a reminder of who we are.
    I just wanted to say your writing is appreciated here on the other side of the ocean☺️

    Kind regards,
    Takami

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hello Takami,

      Thank you so much for your kind message, it means a lot to hear from you all the way from Japan! You’re so right, family dynamics really are a universal language, aren’t they? No matter where we are in the world, the stories we carry and the ones we choose to share connect us in ways we sometimes forget.

      I truly appreciate you taking the time to read and reach out. Sending warm wishes right back across the ocean 🌊

      Kind regards,
      Mae

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Thank you Mae☺️
        Your warm words are much appreciated.
        Family dynamics (the good, bad and especially the ‘ugly’) are universal as you say. I am so glad our paths crossed through WordPress. It is a much-needed reminder how we are more connected than we realise, and we all share human stories.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Takami,Thank you so much. I’m glad our paths crossed too. It’s such a comfort to be reminded that beneath it all, we’re all carrying stories, trying to make sense of the same human messiness. The good, the bad, and especially the beautifully ugly bits. Here’s to more connections, more honesty, and holding space for each other in this crazy, shared experience.
        Mae 🧡

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I don’t say this out loud often — not online, not to strangers — but there are certain family members (not the ones I’m close to) that I genuinely struggle with. I’ve told only my siblings and my parents how I really feel: that I hate the way they’ve treated me. It’s not just one thing — it’s years of being ignored, unloved, unsupported.

    When something was about me — my milestones, my problems, my needs — they were never there for my parents or for me. In fact, they were crying on the day I was born. I never forgot that.

    And now? Now they expect me to call them, help them, be sweet to them, talk like nothing happened. But honestly, do I owe them that? After everything? Because right now, it feels like I’m expected to give love in places that never made space for mine.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you for trusting this space with something so deeply personal. You are not alone in feeling this way, and you don’t owe anyone the parts of yourself they refused to honor or make space for. It’s one of the hardest truths to sit with: sometimes the people who should have shown up; didn’t. And now they want the privilege of your presence without ever having earned it.

      You have every right to protect your heart, your peace, and your energy. Love isn’t a debt owed, it’s something given freely when it feels safe and real. And if those spaces were never safe for you, you’re not wrong for choosing yourself now. I see you, and I completely understand.
      Mae 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It feels good that you understand it completely.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. 🧡🧡🧡

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Five years of bloody hell. One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days (or thereabouts) of psychopathically and narcissistically induced mental and physical anguish that happened 30-odd years ago, the details of which still cannot be verbalized with either spoken or written word, except to my oldest and dearest friend and a trusted therapist. There isn’t an industrial-strength journal made that could ever hold the molten lava memories.

    My physical body walked away, but my mind is forever held captive.

    My heart hurts for you and all the other victims, and at the same time applauds the survivors because successful survival invalidates all of the monsters/bullies–eviscerates and emasculates/defeminizes them.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Sandy,
      Thank you for sharing this. That was powerful. Your words carry a weight that anyone who’s been through it will feel in their bones. I’m so sorry you endured that, and I fully understand what you mean about memories too heavy for paper and too sharp for the tongue. It takes incredible strength just to keep moving with that kind of history stitched into you.

      And you’re right, every single day a survivor keeps breathing, keeps living, keeps claiming their own space in the world, it chips away at the power those monsters thought they had. You don’t need to tell the world your story for it to matter. The fact that you survived is the victory. I see you, and I applaud you.
      Mae 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

      1. All the best to you, Mae. And thank *you* for sharing. It helps other victims to see and feel your strength and wry wit in dealing with the fallout. <3

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Thank you so much — your words mean more than you know. If sharing a bit of the mess, madness, and humour helps even one person feel a little less alone in it, then it’s worth every word. I’m sending you kindness right back, and I truly appreciate you taking the time to leave this message. ❤️

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Willie Torres Jr. Avatar
    Willie Torres Jr.

    Sometimes it takes a crack to let the Light in. Your voice matters. Keep speaking truth…. God can use even our brokenness to bring healing, not just for us, but for others too. You’re not alone.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Beautifully said, Willie, and so true. It’s often in those broken, messy places that the light finds us and shows us what really matters. Thank you for the reminder. I’ll keep speaking, cracks and all… and it means the world to know I’m not alone in it.
      Mae 🧡

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Willie Torres Jr. Avatar
        Willie Torres Jr.

        And Thank you Mae… Your voice brings light through the cracks.

        Grateful to walk this journey alongside you.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Ah, that’s beautiful, thank you so much. It means the world to know the light’s getting through. Grateful to have you on this wild road with me, too. Here’s to the ones who keep showing up, cracks and all.
        Mae 🧡

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Willie Torres Jr. Avatar
        Willie Torres Jr.

        Mae, your words touch my heart deeply.
        Here’s to all of us, showing up, shining through, perfectly imperfect together.
        Grateful for this journey with you. 🧡✨

        Liked by 1 person

      4. Ah, thank you, Willie. Grateful to be walking this road alongside you, too. 🧡

        Liked by 1 person

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