THE SILENCE I CARRY

Beneath the quiet hours, in the secret places where no one sees me, I carry a story that did not begin in an office. It did not begin with emails, bookings, or whispered complaints. My fear is older than my adulthood, older than my career, older than the woman I have forced myself to become.

My fear was born in the stolen corners of childhood.

* I learned fear before I learned safety.
* I learned silence before I learned words.
* I learned survival before I learned joy.

For six unending years, I was abused, trapped in a darkness too heavy for a child to bear. Six years of pain I could not explain, six years of secrets I could not speak, six years of looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next moment someone would hurt me.

And when I thought I had survived the worst life could give, fate tore another piece of me away. Seven men, seven shadows, one horrifying moment that shattered whatever innocence I had left. You do not walk away from something like that as the same person. You do not wake up the next day with the same soul.

Fear became the language my body understood,it became the constant rhythm in my heartbeat, became my shadow, following me everywhere.

I carried it through my teenage years, I carried it into adulthood.
And even now, I carry it into the office with me.

* Different stories.
* Different places.
But the same feeling.
* The same tightening in my chest.
* The same sense that danger is always just one step away.

The fear I feel in that office… it is a mirror, A reflection of every moment in my past when I was small, powerless, voiceless. It may not be physical, but my body cannot tell the difference anymore. Trauma teaches you to prepare for danger even when none is visible.

Now I fear simple things.

- Scared to pick up a call.
- Scared to make a booking.
- Scared to quote a rate.
- Scared to speak because my words can be twisted.
- Scared to move because every step feels watched.
- Scared to breathe too loudly because someone may notice and judge.

* Every task feels like a trap.
* Every phone ring feels like an alarm.
* Every email notification feels like a threat.

Because it truly feels like someone is always watching, waiting for me to make a mistake, waiting for the smallest slip to use as a reason to push me out, and when people begin to warn you, quietly, carefully, that leaders are complaining… that a certain leader wants you out “by all means” … the fear sharpens into something that feels like a blade pressed against your throat.

How can I not be afraid? Especially when all I have ever done is treat people with respect. When I have worked with sincerity. When I have shown kindness, humility, and professionalism. When I have never tried to compete with anyone, never tried to take from anyone, never even dared to dream of the positions they hold.

Yet somehow, I became a threat.
- An enemy.
- A target.

* People talk behind my back.
* People twist stories.
* People paint me in colours that do not belong to me.
* People make it hard for me to even go have my meals because I do not know what words are being thrown in my absence.

And slowly… painfully… I realized something even heavier.....