
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.

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