When Truth Feels Dangerous (Even When You're Safe)

There’s a part of me that still feels afraid.
Not because I’ve done something wrong — but because I’ve told the truth.

Even now, as I step into the reality that my family never truly loved me, I still feel the old fear creeping in:
What will happen when they see what I’ve written?
What will they do when they realise I’m not hiding anymore?

It’s not logical. I know that.
I know my mother has no real power over me now.
Even if she took the money — I’d survive. I’d rebuild.
If anything, it would give me the final clarity to walk away for good — no emotional strings, no guilt, no performance of care when she dies.

And maybe, in a weird way, that’s what protects me now.
She knows it too.
She knows if she pulls that card, it’s game over.

I didn’t manipulate that outcome. I just learned the rules.
I’ve been playing this survival game since childhood — quietly, intuitively, unconsciously.
And now? I’m no longer willing to play.

---

But here’s the thing I’m finally naming:

The fear doesn’t come from the present.
It comes from the child in me who still thinks that being seen means being punished.

That child learned that truth is dangerous.
That honesty causes withdrawal.
That speaking your mind, even gently, can rip the fragile fabric of what little family you had.

I saw it in my uncle’s eyes when I had an opinion he didn’t like.
I saw it in the emotional freeze-out that followed.
I saw it every time I dared to not be who they wanted me to be.

---

So now, as an adult, I remind myself gently:

I’m safe.
I’m allowed to speak.
I’m allowed to share my story — even if it offends the ones who wrote me out of theirs.

And if that scares them?
That’s not my fault.
That’s their legacy — not mine.

---

I’m not protecting them anymore.
I’m not shielding their image.
And I’m certainly not going to carry the burden of their discomfort when they read my truth.

This isn’t rebellion.
This is reclamation.

And whatever fear still lingers — it doesn’t get to drive the car anymore.