Unseen Wounds

The Moment I Let Go

There was a night I thought would change everything.

I had finally reached a point where I felt safe enough to let my guard down. Safe enough to give myself—not just in the physical sense, but in that deeper, soul-bearing way that only happens when you believe you’re truly seen.

We were close, bodies entwined, but it wasn’t just about that. I remember the way I breathed him in. The way I softened. The way I moaned—not out of performance, not to impress, but because in that moment, I wasn’t holding back.

That sound came from trust. From vulnerability.

It said, “I’m here, fully. I’m not pretending.”

The Shift I Couldn’t Ignore

But afterward…

something shifted.

He didn’t say anything cruel. He didn’t pull away in a dramatic way. That might’ve been easier. Instead, it was subtle.

He got up like nothing sacred had happened.

No tenderness in his eyes. No weight in his silence.

Just… nothing.

And suddenly I realized:

If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been someone else.

Anyone else who gave him that sound, that softness, that surrender.

He wasn’t responding to me.

He was responding to the feeling I gave him.

And that broke something in me.

When You Feel Like Everything—and Nothing

I felt used, but not in the way most people imagine.

I wasn’t discarded like trash.

I was just never actually held as something sacred to begin with.

I had been received, but not revered.

Consumed, not cherished.

Desired, but not deeply chosen.

And in that realization, I felt like I had given everything… and somehow became nothing to him.

🧠 What I’ve Learned Since

I now understand that not everyone who touches you deserves access to your softness.

Not everyone who holds your body can hold your soul.

Not every moan is heard as the language of trust—it’s often mistaken for permission, or worse, possession.

But I also learned this:

My softness is not the problem.

It is a gift—one that must be honored, not just used.

💬 Let’s Talk

Have you ever given someone the most honest, sacred version of yourself—only to realize they couldn’t receive it?

Do you ever wonder if they responded to you, or just the feeling you gave them?

Here are a few questions to reflect on (or answer in the comments):

• Have I ever mistaken desire for care?
• Did I ever lower my boundaries thinking I was finally safe?
• How can I tell the difference between being wanted and being valued?

🌱 In the End…

Healing came slowly, but it came.

I stopped blaming myself for feeling deeply.

I stopped shrinking the way I express love.

And I started requiring emotional presence—not just physical attention.

Next time I let someone in, it’ll be someone who sees all of me.

Who knows the sound of my trust… and treats it like sacred ground.

Because I was never “too much.”

He was just never enough.