Field Note: Who They Actually Hurt

I look at these photographs now and I feel compassion for the woman in them.

I see how hard she was trying.

I see how exhausted she was.

I see someone carrying far more than she should have been asked to carry.

I see someone who was hurt.

Deeply hurt.

Not because she was weak.

Because she was human.

This is not a request for sympathy.

It is not an attempt to blame.

It is simply a witness statement.

The harm was real.

The impact was real.

The nervous system injury was real.

The grief was real.

The confusion was real.

And the woman who lived through it was real.

This is who they hurt.

She did not deserve it.

Today I am well down the road of healing.

The people who hurt me still exist.

Some of them I still see.

But they no longer occupy my thoughts the way they once did.

They do not get a seat at my table.

They do not get access to my peace.

They do not get to define who I am.

What remains, however, is the truth.

They left no visible bruises.

There are no casts, scars, or x-rays.

Nothing the world can easily point to and say, "There. That's where the injury occurred."

But the injury was real.

It lived in my nervous system.

It lived in my sleep.

It lived in my body.

It lived in the constant vigilance of wondering what would happen next.

And because those wounds are invisible, I am left to witness them myself.

So this is my witness statement.

Not for them.

For me.

I know what happened.

I know what it cost.

I know how hard I fought to keep showing up.

And I know I deserved better.

Sometimes I think about how little it would have taken.

No rescue.

No apology.

No grand act of kindness.

No special treatment.

Just basic respect.

Just professional courtesy.

Just the simple decision to leave another human being in peace.

All you had to do was leave me alone.

How hard would that have been?