06/02/2026
I know what abandonment feels like — because the people who were supposed to show up simply didn't.
Growing up, I dealt with things at home that hurt me deeply. When I finally got the courage to speak up, I wasn't protected. I wasn't believed. My parents called me a liar.
That's a specific kind of abandonment that doesn't get talked about enough — when someone is right there, physically present, but completely checked out when you need them most.
Abandonment doesn't always look like walking out and never coming back. Sometimes it looks like choosing to be absent at the exact moment someone needs you most — and convincing yourself you've earned the right to check out.
And the message it sends to a child is devastating: you don't matter enough for me to fight for you.
Abandonment isn't always dramatic. Sometimes it's quiet. Sometimes it's a choice dressed up as freedom. But the people left behind always feel it.
What I can say is this — despite everything, I made it through. That pain didn't break me. I turned the pain into power.
If anything, it built me. It taught me resilience I never would have found otherwise, and it made me someone who knows how to show up for others, because I know what it feels like when no one does.
It taught me a deeper sense of compassion for others. And this, I am truly grateful for.
If you've ever been the one left behind, I see you. You're stronger than you know.
