What It Means Surviving Abuse That Never Really Ended
Some people think once you’re grown, it’s over. That once you move out, the nightmare ends. But let me tell you the real truth about surviving abuse that never really ended — it doesn’t stop when you leave the house. It follows you. It becomes you. Until you do the work to break it wide open.
Surviving abuse that never really ended means waking up in your thirties, forties, fifties — still flinching at sudden sounds. Still second-guessing your worth. Still stuck in cycles you never chose, but that were wired into your nervous system before you even had language for it.
The Lingering Wounds No One Sees
And here’s the truth no one wants to admit:
When the abuse never really ends, you end up trying to fix it in all the wrong places.
In relationships that mimic the pain.
In jobs that drain you.
In friendships where you’re always the one giving, never receiving.
In addictions. In isolation. In perfectionism.
Trying to control a world that once left you powerless.
Because that’s what it feels like — surviving abuse that never really ended means learning to function with open wounds. It means carrying your childhood into adulthood and pretending like it isn’t bleeding through everything.
How to Begin Healing After Surviving Abuse That Never Really Ended
But it does bleed through.
Into parenting.
Into love.
Into how you see yourself in the damn mirror.
And the worst part? You start to believe the lie that you’re the problem. That something’s wrong with you — when in truth, something terrible was done to you. And it was never your fault.
Healing? That’s a war of its own.
Because healing and surviving abuse that never really ended isn’t just about letting go. It’s about tearing out the roots — the ones tangled so deep inside, they look like you. It’s about unlearning survival mode. It’s about choosing to feel again after years of numbing out. It’s about walking through the fire of every memory, every flashback, every breakdown — and still choosing life.
You Are Not Broken
This is the truth:
I’m still healing.
I still have dark days.
But I’m not carrying shame anymore.
I’m not staying silent anymore.
I’m not pretending to be okay just to keep others comfortable.
Because surviving abuse that never really ended doesn’t make me broken.
It makes me dangerous to the system that created it.
It makes me a threat to generational trauma.
It makes me unapologetically powerful.
And I refuse to let the past keep writing my story.
