Relationships

“The Silence That Shaped Me”

A true story of pain, survival, and rediscovery.

My name is not important here — what matters is the story I carry within me.

The person I’ve become today has been shaped not just by choices, but by silent battles I never asked for… but had to survive.

My childhood was supposed to be filled with innocence and laughter — but some memories left marks far deeper than bruises. I was very young when I first encountered something that no child should ever experience. A trusted neighbor, someone we used to visit without fear, took advantage of our innocence. What happened in that closed room was confusing and terrifying. I didn’t understand what he was doing at the time — only that it felt wrong. Somehow, I managed to run away. But the fear didn’t leave with me.

The second incident hit even closer to home. It was a cousin — someone I had grown up calling ‘bhai’. I had no knowledge of what was right or wrong, no awareness of how to protect myself. It started subtly — an inappropriate video, a misleading word, calling it a “game.” Slowly, his behavior crossed all limits. There were moments when I was asleep, and he would violate my space without a word. I remained silent. Too scared to speak. Too young to even fully understand. And that silence slowly became my prison.

The third time, it was yet another cousin. This one lived with us for a while at my grandmother’s house. His approach was different — almost gentle. I was still a child, and I mistook the wrong kind of attention for affection. I didn’t understand boundaries. Eventually, I realized it was wrong, and I stepped away. But by then, I had already begun to question my own worth.

These experiences didn’t just end in childhood — they left a lasting imprint on the way I saw myself, the world, and relationships. I couldn’t sit still in one place emotionally. I struggled with self-worth, with fear, and often with guilt that was never mine to carry. I kept pretending I was okay. I kept running from the shadows of my past.

Until something changed.

Amidst this chaos, I met someone — unexpectedly. A boy, living far away, who entered my life with a kind heart and a gentle soul. In a world where I had forgotten how to trust, he made me feel safe. He didn’t know about my past, but he recognized my present pain. Instead of running from it, he stood by me — with patience, with care, and with love that asked for nothing in return.

For the first time, I began to feel human again.

I began to believe that I could be loved — not despite my past, but simply for who I am.

Even now, there are nights when old memories visit.

Even now, I struggle with things I can’t always explain.

But now… I have someone who doesn’t demand perfection — he walks beside me through the imperfection.

This is my story — real, raw, and unfiltered.

Not for sympathy. Not for attention.

But to remind someone out there that you are not alone.

What happened to us was never our fault.

And healing, though not instant, is possible — when love is patient, and when we begin to forgive ourselves for surviving.

*This story may tell about the author she wants help anonymously*##Childhoodtrauma #Trauma #realstory #story #unspokenwords #MentalHealth

Hi, my name is Bárbara. I'm here because i'm currently in a hard life phase, and i need new ways to deal with it.I've beem feeling a little overwhelming with unbalanced emotions, and i feel that's afecting my whole life and the way i connect with people in my relationships. I hasn't been diagnosed with anything yet, but therapist belive i have adhd.So.. i don't know, chat gpt make this site as a suggestion, so i decide to try. I had a depression last year, and there's a possibility i do have fibromyalgia as well.. but let's hope they are all wrong, and the only thing i have it's ansiety. kkk

#MightyTogether #Depression #Anxiety #ADHD #Fibromyalgia

By Linda Athanasiadou — cancer survivor writing at the intersection of health and humanity

When I was first diagnosed, the phrase “Linda Athanasiadou cancer” became more than just a search term—it became a label I had to carry in every hospital hallway, appointment, and conversation. But the more jarring shift wasn’t just how the world saw me. It was how I began to see—and feel—my own body.

Before cancer, I treated my body like a constant project. I criticized it quietly, sometimes harshly. I demanded energy without offering rest, praised it only when it fit into whatever shape or size I thought it should be. I didn’t think of this as self-harm, just discipline. But now, in hindsight, I realize I wasn’t living with my body—I was managing it like a stubborn machine.

That all changed when Athanasiadou illness became part of my everyday vocabulary. Chemotherapy, surgeries, fatigue—my body took every hit, absorbed every needle and incision, and still got me up in the morning. Even on the days I couldn’t get out of bed, my heart kept beating. My lungs kept breathing. My body, despite everything, kept showing up for me.

But I didn’t always show up for it.

There were days I felt betrayed—angry that my own cells had turned against me. I hated the reflection in the mirror: hairless, pale, unfamiliar. The shape of my face shifted. My skin dulled. I mourned not just my health, but my femininity. I wondered if I’d ever feel beautiful again.

And yet, somewhere in that grief, something softer began to emerge. I started listening more. I stopped punishing myself for needing rest. I put my hand over my chest—not to check for new lumps, but to simply feel the strength of my heartbeat. That moment of presence—of recognizing what was still working—was the beginning of a new relationship.

I no longer associate Linda Athanasiadou health with perfection. For me, health now means living in harmony with the body I have, even when it’s changed. Especially when it’s changed.

Today, I see my scars as part of the story—living proof that my body survived something brutal and didn’t give up on me. I see softness as strength. I don’t chase the body I had before cancer. I’m learning to love the one I have now. It’s not always easy. The voice of comparison still shows up. But now, I respond with compassion. With gratitude. With truth.

Sometimes I still wonder how much of myself I lost during treatment—but more often, I see how much I gained. A new level of trust. A deeper respect. And a commitment to caring for this body, not because it looks a certain way, but because it fought like hell to keep me here.

If you’re navigating your own healing—whether physically, emotionally, or both—I invite you to read my article, by Linda Athanasiadou “How to Support Someone with Cancer Without Saying ‘Stay Positive.’” How to Support Someone with Cancer Without Saying “Stay Positive” #Because healing isn’t just about surviving. It’s about feeling seen, understood, and supported. And that begins with honesty—including with ourselves.

#lindaathanasiadoucancer

Hi everyone 👋 I’m new here.I go by SpicyWitch38417 (because honestly… that’s my whole vibe right now 😆🔥🖤).
I’m 46, healing from years of emotional abuse, gaslighting, and long-term trauma (both from an ex-husband and family dynamics... including a strained relationship with my daughter that I’m trying to navigate now).
I’ve recently learned I likely have C-PTSD and ADHD, plus I’m rolling through perimenopause like a damn warrior.Some days I’m full of fire and hope.Other days… full of tears, brain fog, and wondering how I’m going to keep showing up for work and life.
I’m working hard on boundaries, nervous system regulation, and inner child healing. I journal, I walk my dog (Riggs 🐾), I’m reading How to Do the Work by The Holistic Psychologist, and I’m slowly learning that I don’t have to stay stuck in survival mode. I've started my TikTok to claim our small but mighty daily wins. We're all just trying to survive.
If you’re here doing the work too… I see you. ❤️Let’s root for each other.

#MightyTogether

Dear people here,

I have been in a relationship with someone, she was also someone who introduced me to this app, so maybe she might see my post maybe not.. but in writing here because I neeeeeeeed help. I used to be religious person, I used to pray, I used to ask God to help me. My ex has caused me lot of pain, since one year, she promised me to replace me and I’m someone who is very sensitive it killed me. Even though I attended her birthday and I made her happy. But I couldn’t be like before ( before I was into marriage with her and I offered her that) but she rejected me like I was trash, she said things that hurted me. Since that time and the relationship was toxic, in my birthday she blocked me. And in the same week she met someone on the train and she shared her number… from that moment I closed it inside me… and two month ago, she tried to contact me again. I knew that the other guy intention was not friendship as she said.. anyway I rejected her and she tried sooo hard to break the ice I built inside me. She said she is psycho… but yes she used to call me a lot of harsh words. That can break me and because I was crying a lot. She called me weak and she blocked me.. for some reasons since then I feel connected to her. For me she was my first person, my first friend and my first love. I give her everything with honesty. I wasn’t her first and she had dirty and broken past but I accepted it… I looked at the new her. But she never changed… I don’t want to tell too much details but at the moment I’m fully broken I can’t do any work. My family is in a place I can’t visit them. I don’t have real friends around me, I told one friend I thought he is close that I’m depressed he told me it’s not my business. I have lost all feelings to keep alive. I’m tired. Before I meet this girl I was so much strong.. I’m successful person in my life despite all that I have high educational degrees. But at the moment I don’t have job. After last degree I couldn’t be fine or be able to do well. I’m not playing victim role as she said. But I’m a sensitive person. She demolished me. And honestly I was so conservative that I only will meet one person and marry one person. I give her this chance after I trusted her. She take all my energy. I become wrong, I feel wrong of myself, now I wish her bad. I wish her to see the same pain she caused me. Sometimes I feel to revenge. Because I worked hard to move on from her and I paid all my savings on therapist. And when she came again she broke me. My wish is not something possible but I wish I never met her. I did loved her from the bottom of my heart, I tried to contact her again and she said we never know each other and she called me stranger. I know it’s my responsibility to stand on my feet and how to deal with that. But I have zero power. I don’t know what is the best way to forget her but I don’t want to forgive her. Even if this costs me all life. I want to let her feel what she did to me. I would say honestly that I want to die.. deeply speaking.. and even that when once I told her I’m tired I want to die, she called a loser. Nothing of showing her my weakness could stop her from having any mercy on me. But she have that huge ego, my therapist told me she is a borderline personality. I actually read and study and spend too much and talked to a lot of ppl and nothing works. I feel that I also lost my faith.. I also feel numb and cold and tears doesn’t want to go out. She traumatized me lot of times. And for me either I revenge or I die. And both are not good. But I don’t feel alive. At the beginning I used to wish for a warm hug. Now I don’t want anything, I also had this dream to build a family. She destroyed me and the dream. Not out of blame. But I had no experience. I was avoiding relationships because I had the belief of one and only one forever. Meanwhile I’m not able to tell my family my pain and I don’t have anyone who could help. I don’t need to go hospital or anything. I also can’t afford any more money to help myself I even went to travels I did everything to feel better but nothing works. They say the solution is within myself. There is nothing… I feel that I lost myself forever, and I swear to god that I wish her to feel the same exact pain she caused me. And I know revenge is not good. But I want to, let me regret it. But it should be done during my down time, because I never seen her when I needed her. I was sick, I was in the hospital I even had some achievement days where I have to meet people and smile but I go home. Weak and broken.

I’m not sure if I’m here asking for help. But I’m here to express that I wish her hellfire. And I believe that God is justice and if I don’t get my justice and if all that is fake I feel that I’m going to lose my faith. But I will work hard to keep it even if I killed myself. And honestly I become obsessed with the idea of asking God to take me.

I’m not sure what I can do more… but I’m like a broken glass ball that is melting from the heat of my anger… and I don’t wish her any good in her life. Because I lost myself for her I give her myself fully. But she is just a selfish disgusting person. Even if she want to show love she show it from distance. She never listened to me or even did anything I asked her for. Not out of control but out of maintaining the relationship. She did nothing that could make me even to go in peace or to protect the relationship.

I’m not also better than her in my birth month, I cursed her with the f word. And I also apologized for it recently but she face it with words that made me even feel worse. For her and her family I’m disrespectful person because of this curse. But it’s normal that she threatened me to replace me and tell me things that break me. She was treating me so bad. I told her from the beginning of the relationship that don’t block me if we fight we can fix it with communication. She blocked me every time we fight and close the call on me. And that drove me anxious and there I understood that I have attachment problem. So what’s the life is about. She injustice me. I used to be happy on my own and I accept rejection easily. But now since her rejection if I feel or sense I’m being rejected from anything even the job interviews it kills me and I become so down.

I’m not sure what is the purpose of this app here, but I decided to write my pain here because maybe god is hiding something behind this app. And I want to write it all so at least someone could witness the pain that I’m facing. I start seeing the life unfair and I lost everything I could keep. I couldn’t maintain any more pain or even my Normal relationship even close friends avoid me. At the end I accept all that. But how I will feel better I don’t know.

She is the reason of all my troubles. Because I trusted her again. She melted the ice and finished whatever left for me to survive the life.

My heart is extremely broken.. and my weight is increasing and im losing people and losing myself. I become negative and all that because of her abandonment to me.

Yes I lost everything. Not because I lose her I should be happy that she is not my wife now. But still I wouldn’t be calm because I feel betrayed and I feel like I lost everything. Even I went to therapy because of her and I did lot of things for the first time for her and because of her and I want to revenge.

Whether you’re living with a colostomy, ileostomy, or urostomy—or supporting someone who is—this is a safe, judgment-free space to share experiences, ask questions, and find real-life tips for daily living. From managing leaks to navigating diet, relationships, and body image, we’re here for it all. Led by someone with 16+ years of personal experience, this group is about community, resilience, and practical support. You’re not alone—and you don’t have to figure it all out on your own. Let’s connect, learn, and support one another through every twist, turn, and bag change.
#Ostomy #ostomysupport

Hey friends — I wanted to share a story from my ongoing BestGuessistan series that’s been close to my heart lately.

Alex’s journey is about what happens when everything you knew unravels — career, relationships, identity. But in that raw, uncertain space, she finds permission to rethink what success and healing look like.

BestGuessistan isn’t a place you find on a map. It’s a state of being — a landscape for rewriting life after rupture.

In Alex’s story, ministries like the Ministry of Updated Expectations and places like Pain de Resistance Bakery become waypoints on a path that’s less about answers and more about gentle permission.

She learns to stop comparing herself to her old self and starts embracing the uncertainty of becoming — slow, tentative, and beautiful.

I’d love to hear your thoughts or experiences about what it means to let go of “before” and start anew.

Here’s the full essay -

Navigating BestGuessistan

BestGuessistan isn’t a place you’ll find on any map. It’s not a place at all—strictly speaking. It’s a state of being, a shifting landscape where life after rupture unfolds. The familiar markers have vanished, replaced by ministries that don’t govern but guide; places named for the emotional work we all must do; spaces where healing follows no straight line.

The names may seem strange at first—The Ministry of Updated Expectations, Pain de Resistance Bakery, The It Dependsathon—but each holds a truth about the messy, unpredictable journey of rewriting a life.

Alex never planned to come here. She didn’t plan to go anywhere, though the urge to escape pulled at her like a tide. The place wasn’t on any map she’d seen—though she searched, endlessly. But everything had shifted beneath her feet. It was time for change.

Her decades-long career unraveled. Her wife left—without a clear explanation. Her bond with her kids thinned by distance and silence. Everything she counted on—her identity, her worth—crumbled. It started slowly but came crashing all at once. You know how that feels.

Leaving seemed like the only option. Staying to face the wreckage felt unbearable. Letting the rubble wait felt easier. Any shift, any change, even just a new backdrop, might ease the weight.

She found BestGuessistan in the cracks: graffiti on a toilet stall, a late-night search for hope, a place suspended between dream and waking. Was it real? Or the fog thickening?

She drifted in, soft-footed, unsure if she was arriving or fleeing. Questions swirled—dizzying, raw. Who am I now when everything that defined me is gone? What value remains—for myself, for those I love, for a world that feels alien? How to hold fractured past and uncertain present? Do I still matter? Who am I now, and does it matter to anyone?

The Ministry of Updated Expectations was her first surprise. Always open, it greeted her with a warm hush—rigid demands softened to loose threads. She didn’t know what to expect, but soon recognized what she’d found: permission. To revise her inner metrics; to rethink; to start fresh. She sampled programs and spaces, finding threads to reweave herself. It was a beginning.

At Pain de Resistance Bakery, the scent of fresh bread steadied her unsteady heart—a sweetness not just for nourishment but rebuilding. She wasn’t sure why it was named so; the place names all confused her. But she stayed. Emotional Logistics offered tiny stickers that whispered, “You showed up.” Strange, yet comforting. The It Dependsathon beckoned—a maze of maybe and uncertainty. Some days an austere Japanese hedge maze; others, a wild English garden. Paths as varied as her own journey.

Slowly, with effort and setbacks, she stopped measuring herself against her former self. She let go of the crushing weight of failure, a new, unwelcome companion since the fall. She discovered places that welcomed the after-version of Alex—not the old, but the becoming. That shift was not repellant but strangely magnetic. She felt herself loosen, but hadn’t fully embraced it.

Not yet.

Her journey wasn’t over. One last place awaited—off any map, unmarked, unguided. She arrived.

At the House of Blues—a spare room with worn wood and honest shadows—she lit a blue candle, mourning who she was and honoring who she might become. She picked up a battered guitar, unsure how to play, but the instrument showed her: how to experiment, rethink, play a blues progression. Folding a letter to her former self, she tucked it into the communal songbook—each note a reckoning, each silence a chance to listen.

Here, finally, Alex found space to breathe, reckon, and begin playing her own tentative, beautiful song.

And in the notes, chords, and budding melody, she glimpsed the faint shape of what might come next.

Thanks for reading and sharing this space with me.

What parts of Alex’s story resonated most with you?