Survivor.
Someone who’s lived through abuse or violence.
But what does it really mean?
Does it say anything more than: I’m still here?
It was meant to be empowering.
To move away from victim.
To reclaim dignity and agency after something dehumanising.
And that shift mattered.
It still does.
But what if ‘survivor’ starts to feel like the only thing we’re allowed to be?
Because we are so much more than that.
We are more than the worst thing that happened.
Sometimes, we cope by shutting the door on it completely.
That’s understandable.
That’s part of the pain too.
But healing invites us to slowly open that door.
Not to relive it, but to make space for all of who we are.
There is no going back to who we were before.
But healing lets us carry it differently.
It lets us say: This happened. It hurt. It changed me. And still — I’m here.
Not just surviving.
Living.
Loving.
Laughing.
Feeling moments of peace.
Moments of joy.
What if we didn’t have to soften the truth at all?
I was raped.
I was abused.
I was hurt.
And let the survival live in the was.
Would we lose power?
Or would we gain something…
Honesty, clarity, release?
I want a world where we no longer whisper about these things.
Where future generations look back and wonder…
How did that ever happen?
That’s the dream.
The fight.
The change we hope for, together.
But within that, there’s a quieter path.
The one only you can walk.
The one where you say:
What happened was horrific.
But it doesn’t own me anymore.
And where you feel it in your bones.
Not just the pain, but the freedom.
Because what happened to you is not who you are.
It never was.
And healing exists, so we can do more than survive.
So we can truly live.
What happened was horrific.
But it never touched who you truly are.