Hi everyone…
I just want to share my story. Maybe it’s not neat or inspiring. But it’s real. This is me.
I’m at the lowest point in my life.
Have you ever chosen someone because you believed they could change? I have. But it turns out that hope only lived in my head. The truth is, the man I married was manipulative, full of lies, and completely different from the way I think. And I wasn’t just hurt — I was shattered. Our relationship even affected my family. Until finally, I chose to stop. I ended everything… and decided to raise my daughter on my own. My baby girl. She’s my reason to keep going.
But… the wound is still there.
Not hatred, no. But pain. Like a thorn buried deep inside, unseen but aching whenever touched. My finances are wrecked. My career came to a halt. As if the world decided to stand still while I was still falling.
Maybe all of this already feels like a pile of endless wounds.
Even before marriage, I carried other scars: my parents’ divorce. My father… looked fine on the outside, no drinking, no trouble. But secretly he gambled, got into debt, and… remarried without us knowing. It all came to light when I was in high school. Since then, I knew: not all wounds come with a loud sound. Some are silent… but destructive.
I once tried to have a heart-to-heart with my father. But his answer was always the same: “You are the child, I am the parent.” There was no room for me to speak, let alone to be heard. Until finally, he was gone — a stroke took him away… and I never got the chance to talk to him. Never got the chance to say, “I was hurt too, Dad…”
I’m the oldest of three siblings.
With our wide age gaps and everything I had to carry alone, it feels like… well, I’m part of that sandwich generation. Squeezed from every side, forced to be strong even when inside I just want to collapse.
Then at 27, I got married. While my wounds were still unhealed, I chose the wrong partner again. Was this karma for my father’s sins? Or maybe the scars buried in my subconscious, still bleeding, shaping my choices?
I often ask myself,
“Are all men like this? Untrustworthy? Is there no one genuine?”
But I also know — that’s just me, drenched in sorrow. Soaked by childhood wounds, disappointed by my first love, and broken by hopes again and again.
I want to heal.
I want to believe again. Not only in others, but in myself. That I deserve happiness. That I can start over, even from zero.
I don’t want to keep living under negative perceptions about love, about men, about life. But the road ahead is still long… still foggy. Yet I’ll walk it anyway, step by step.
Today, I tell my story. So tomorrow, I can feel a little lighter.
Because even though I’m soaked to the bone… I’m still standing.
Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash
