What Wasn’t There

Hello… If I don’t reach out, I’m met with silence. When I do, the familiar pattern emerges: Surface-level chatter. Half responses. God forbid I need emotional support. I’m met with minimization. Misunderstanding. Silence again— or the careful avoidance of that part of the message. My phone only rings for Scam Likely. No one checks in. Even when they know my situation. When my son’s birthday went unacknowledged, that hurt worse. I have no nuclear family from my childhood. No contact, after a lifetime of neglect. He will not miss them. I will not let them treat him the way they treated me. For his first birthday, I made party hats for his toys. It was quite a turnout. He was surrounded by all his friends. My heart held sadness— but I made sure he had magic. He won’t remember who wasn’t there. Only that he was loved. That everything was curated with care, with thoughtful details chosen specifically for him. When you break cycles, when you heal, you realize how much of your life was shaped around other people’s comfort. Once you stop translating, diluting yourself, accepting scraps like a Thanksgiving feast— life becomes quieter and louder at the same time. Did anyone actually care? Was I ever truly known? Appreciated? Loved? Seen?

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