mental health awareness

The Switch Flipped
by Jenn Dacey

Intro:
This is the exact moment I stopped shrinking myself to fit into places I had outgrown.

Don’t push a good person to the point where they no longer give a fuck.
Because once the switch flips, it’s over.
The softness doesn’t disappear—
it just stops being available to people who took it for granted.
The love doesn’t die—
it just stops being handed out like a goddamn reward for bad behavior.

I was the good person.
The one who stayed too long.
Loved too hard.
Apologized too quickly.
Forgave too easily.

I gave benefit of the doubt like it was oxygen.
I extended grace even when I was gasping.
I showed up for people who forgot me the moment their storms passed.
And every time, I told myself, “That’s just who I am.”

But now?

The switch flipped.

I don’t chase.
I don’t beg.
I don’t overexplain.
If you fumble me, you lose me.
No second act. No soft return. No “maybe they’ll change.”

I’ve changed.

That’s what no one expected.
That I would rise—not bitter, but brutal.
Not angry, but awake.
Not heartless, but healed.

You can’t guilt me into going back.
You can’t charm me into forgetting.
I’m not waiting for closure anymore—I am the closure.

The girl who used to cry for love is gone.
She’s resting now.
She did her job.
She kept me alive.

But I’m driving now.
And I don’t take passengers who can’t handle the weight of my worth.

If you wanted me,
you should’ve shown up for me.
When I cried,
when I begged,
when I whispered “I need you” with every ounce of strength I had left—
that was your moment.

But you let it pass.
You watched me unravel,
and stayed silent.
You mistook my patience for weakness,
my forgiveness for permission.

You thought I’d always be there.
But now?

The door’s locked.
The key?
It was made of things you don’t carry:
accountability.
honesty.
effort.
respect.

I don’t owe anyone my undoing ever again.

You don’t get to miss me now that I’m unavailable.
You don’t get to regret what you lost
when you never fought to keep it.

I’m not ice cold.
I’m just done melting for people
who only liked me when I was easy to pour into a glass.

I loved you.
I wanted it to work.
I dreamed of being enough.

But now I realize—
you weren’t even enough for you.

And I’m not staying small to make you feel big.

I have finally, finally arrived
in the space where my peace matters more than your presence.

So if you’re wondering what happened,
if you’re scrolling through our old messages looking for cracks—
here’s your answer:

The switch flipped.

And I’ll never be that soft again
for someone who made me feel like I was hard to love.

#theswitchflipped #traumahealing
#MentalHealthAwareness #Selfworth #BipolarDepression #Suicide #Grief #FromDarknessToLight
#keepgoing
#WhenNothingElseWorked
#SpravatoHope
#strongerthanmystorm
#writingtoheal
#SpravatoSavedMe

Lies upon lies, deception upon deception —

Secrets buried beneath secrets, a layered infection.

Crimes whispered in corners, dark shadows roam,

While the innocent are told to suffer alone.

They call it family, call it love,

But what god above could watch from above?

To silence a soul with a single demand —

"Stay quiet, stay loyal, don’t bite the hand."

But loyalty isn’t the cage they built,

It’s a noose made of gaslight, resentment, and guilt.

And silence — they say it brings peace —

But the truth screams louder, it will never cease.

They sharpen their words like blades in the night,

But it’s the scapegoat’s blood that’s bathed in their spite.

A sacrifice, bound and spun on the flame —

Laughed at, discarded, yet burdened with blame.

They drink and they feast as I burn in their view —

A ritual of torment, the role I outgrew.

But still, I’m served up on a platter of shame —

My suffering their comfort, my pain their game.

"Choose life," they sneer, "But live it our way."

Or bow to the devil, let morals decay.

But I’d rather be pierced by a thousand cruel lies —

Than live in a world where the righteous disguise.

Because freedom’s no gift from the hands of the damned —

It’s claimed by the broken who dare make a stand.

And if I must fall for the truth to survive —

Then let it be known, I lived — truly alive.

No martyr, no savior, no saint in disguise —

Just a soul who refused to be swallowed by lies.

So strike if you must — but remember this cry —

The scapegoat you slaughter will rise from the sky.

#scapegoatsurvivor #healingjourne #healingjourney #survivorpoetry #emotionalhealin g #frompaintopower #soulhealing #TraumaRecovery #poeticexpressio n#MentalHealthAwareness #strengthenwithin #healingthroughword #ReclaimYourPower #boundariesmatter #EmotionalFreedom #healingispossible #youarenotalone

They whispered lies like lullabies,

Soft at first—just echoes, sighs.

Planted seeds in fertile ground,

Until your thoughts weren’t yours—they drowned.

They wrote your story in the dark,

Painted blame upon your heart.

Taught you guilt like it was air,

Made you think they put it there.

"You ruin, you break, you bring the rain,"

They stitched those words into your brain.

But what if truth was never theirs?

What if love was always scarce?

You were never the curse.

You were never the weight.

You were the light they feared,

The soul they couldn’t break.

And now you rise, the story’s flipped,

Unchained, untamed, the script is ripped.

The mirror they shattered, it wasn’t you—

It was their own reflection breaking through.

You are not their shame.

You are not their pain.

You are the one who got away,

And you will never break again.

Unshackled. Unbroken. Unstoppable.

They wrote the story. You hold the pen.

Heal. Rise. Rewrite.

Your light was never the problem.

Break free. Stay free. Shine on.

#BreakTheCycle #Unbroken #healingjourney #RewriteYourStory #RiseAbove #youareenough #FromSurvivorToThriver #MentalHealthAwareness #OwnYourPower #resiliencerevolution

Sacred is my fear, holy is my thought. Death is salvation—at least for some of us all. I am definitely scared of the pain that comes, But I am even more scared of the frightening truth: Just how much I loathe the murky waters of my life. I can't help but think—I was a coward after all.

But how is it fair, in this world of so-called truth? The fated ones get it all, while I get none of it. And as if that weren’t enough, I bear the Ten of Swords— Undeniable, unfortunate, inescapable misery. And how might the world see it? For cowards like me, risking it all feels futile.

I’m so tired of this! Crying and howling, flailing. After all, I know that all I ever get is failing...#PoetryOfPain #innerstruggle #Existentialdread #TenOfSwords #LifeAndDeath #darkthoughts #EmotionalCatharsis #PoetryCommunity #TruthAndSuffering #MentalHealthAwareness