Scars

I wasn't always like this.

There was a time when I trusted myself. I could make decisions without replaying them over and over in my head. I wasn't constantly wondering if I had said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing, or somehow wasn't enough.

Then life happened.

Certain words were thrown at me, words that may have meant nothing to the people who said them, but somehow they stayed with me. I didn't realize it at the time, but they slowly changed the way I saw myself.

This isn't about my parents. It's about the people whose words quietly became the voice inside my own head.

I don't think about those moments every day. Most days, I'm okay. I laugh, I work, I keep moving forward. But every now and then, those words find their way back, and suddenly I'm questioning myself again.

They made me feel like I always had something to prove. Like I had to work harder, do more, and never make mistakes just to be worthy. Even now, I catch myself overthinking the simplest things. I replay conversations, wonder if I said too much or too little, and question whether I was enough.

The hardest part is that people rarely realize the weight of the words they throw at someone. They move on. They forget. But the person who received those words sometimes carries them for years.

I'm learning to let go of that weight. It's not easy. Healing isn't about pretending those words never hurt. It's about reminding myself, over and over again, that someone else's opinion doesn't have to become my truth. And maybe one day, the voice I hear the most won't be the one that made me doubt myself, but my own, telling me that I've always been enough.