Welcome to Reflections Unfiltered.
This is where the filter comes off and the real stories begin.
In this space, I share the rawest parts of myself—essays, experiences, and unedited truths I don’t post anywhere else. These are the thoughts that live between survival and healing, between rage and resilience.
If you’ve ever felt too much, too loud, too broken, or too brave, you belong here.
Thank you for supporting this work. Let’s rewrite the narrative together.
I Grew Up Watching Abuse. Now I Fight It
I didn’t grow up hearing about domestic violence—I grew up watching it. I saw it in black eyes and slammed doors. I felt it in the silence that followed every explosion. This isn’t just my story—it’s my origin. The reason I became an activist. The reason I write, speak, and refuse to stay quiet. Because I know what it’s like to be the kid in the room, and I’ll spend the rest of my life fighting so others don’t have to grow up in fear like I did.
He Called Me Weak. But My Sensitivity Was Never the Problem
He told me I was weak for crying. For feeling too much. For being sensitive. But what I’ve learned is this — my emotions weren’t the problem. His inability to face them was. My sensitivity didn’t make me fragile. It made me human.
I Crave Connection. But I Don’t Trust It
I want closeness. I want to be known. But the second someone gets too close, I pull away. It’s not because I don’t care—it’s because caring terrifies me. This is what it’s like to crave connection while constantly preparing for the worst.
My Diagnosis Doesn’t Define Me—But It Explains a Lot
For years, I thought I was just “too much.” Too emotional. Too reactive. Too intense. Then I got diagnosed with borderline personality disorder—and suddenly, things started to make sense. This is what it’s really like to live with BPD, and why it doesn’t define me, but it’s part of my story.
It Wasn’t Tough Love, It Was Abuse
I was told to stop crying before I got something to cry about. I was punished like a soldier, humiliated in public, and made to believe it was for my own good. But it wasn’t discipline. It wasn’t love. It was abuse—and this is the truth I was never allowed to say.
I Was Groomed, and I Didn’t Know It Until Years Later
When I was younger, I thought I was just a “mature kid” talking to older guys online. I thought I was in control. I didn’t realize that what I was experiencing had a name—or that it would stay with me for years. This is the truth I couldn’t see back then, and the story I’m finally ready to tell now.