An Unwelcomed Begining


As children, we often do reckless things. Growing up, I loved playing in the woods with my friends. We used to explore trails and build forts. Once, we even made a fire and pretended we were camping overnight.


Despite my father's warnings about the dangers of fire, my friends dared me to touch a burning log, promising acceptance into their group if I did. Little did I know that this so-called "club" was filled with manipulative and abusive individuals, which sparked the fire of my sexual abuse at six.

When I got home, I tried to conceal the blisters and burn marks on my hands, but my stepmother saw through my lies and identified my burnt hand. This experience taught me that in order to be accepted, I had to do things against my will and lie to endure the pain. Many survivors like me had to navigate life through distorted perspectives, believing that we would be accepted and loved in exchange for giving up our innocence and true selves.



Throughout my life, I avoided allowing myself to feel emotions because I feared they would bring back the trauma I was trying to conceal. Like my burnt hand, I didn't want anyone to see the pain I was hiding. This made growing up difficult as I learned not to trust people, not to trust myself to always be in hiding. I lived this way for decades until I was able to get help.


Into the Fire


Here's what I've learned: when you naturally turn to people for acceptance, nurturing, and protection, and then they reject you, you learn to shut down and ignore your feelings. You're convinced that what you feel does not matter. When abusers manipulate you, you have to find alternative ways to navigate through your feelings. The anger, betrayal, and frustration you feel don't go away. You're forced to find different avenues to reconcile such emotions. Alternatively, you develop another set of problems, which include dissociation, addictions, as well as desiring relationships that are not genuinely healthy.


For years, I never made a connection between how I felt in the present and my experiences from my past. But now, when I look at my burned hand, I instantly remember what happened and the pain I felt. Revisiting that past and many dangerous and darker painful events was the most complex work I've ever experienced. But now that I’m healing, I realize that I'm no longer afraid of acknowledging what happened to me. Like my hand, I've slowly developed the confidence to no longer be afraid. I’m also no longer afraid to let myself be loved.


Healing From The Flames


Healing from emotional pain is like recovering from a burn. The fire of past abuse and trauma may have left scars, but the flames are no longer consuming you. Even today, when those same emotions resurface, it can feel as though you’re still in the fire. The pain feels real, immediate, and overwhelming.


But in those moments, I’ve learned to pause and look at my hands. They remind me that the injury is no longer happening. The fire is gone. While I may feel the ache inside, the outside shows me a truth I sometimes forget—I am healing. My hands, like the rest of me, bear the marks of survival, but they also reveal the progress I’ve made.


I am in a process of renewal, learning to live forward. I am no longer in the same situation that once broke me. Each day, I rediscover how to love and how to receive love—not through fear, but in safety and intention, as it was always meant to be. Healing isn’t linear, but with each step, I leave the fire behind and walk into a life of freedom and hope.


You won't heal what you can't feel.

- Branon


Copyright 2024 Branon Dempsey / Your Story Matters

All Rights Reserved. Admin by WTT Productions

@BranonDempsey


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By Branon Dempsey May 11, 2025
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By Branon Dempsey April 23, 2025
If you've ever been/felt silenced by a parent who prioritized their image over your well-being. You’re not alone. They likely made you believe that expressing your feelings was wrong and that your pain was a burden. It’s heartbreaking to think that your voice, needs, and emotions might have been seen as sources of discomfort for them. Personally, I was told that my emotions and my needs were inconvenient. For survivors of abuse—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—the silence imposed on you wasn’t just intolerable; it was subtle or forced that posed serious doubts, lies, and risks that threw you into survival mode. Not to mention, how this affects your emotional safety into adulthood. You may have been conditioned to hide your truth, to downplay your hurt, and to doubt your own feelings. Many were taught not to trust their instincts, to hold back their tears, to suppress their needs, and ultimately, to deny their very essence. what I’ve learned is that bearing the pain does not make the feelings and memories go away. All they do is further complicate them when you try to unearth the past. Silence doesn’t simply vanish with childhood; it lingers, shaping who you are. Can you relate to any of this? Do you find yourself shrinking in spaces that should feel safe? Do you apologize frequently, even when you’re in the right? Do you grapple with the feeling that your presence might be too overwhelming, or perhaps never enough? If this resonates, Then your silence was on purpose, but you are not alone in this fight. My Story (And Maybe Yours Too) I understand the burden of walking on eggshells, the overwhelming need to stay small in order to keep the peace. I learned early on that speaking out could lead to backlash, and honesty often resulted in punishment. So, I plunged everything deep within—my fear, my anger, and even my joy. It took me years to come to terms with the reality that silence wasn’t a form of protection; it was a way to suppress my true self. The toll it took was my ability to express my voice. To tell my story. Perhaps you relate. Your experiences may differ, but the feelings often echo the same. That heavy tension, the constant second-guessing, and the deep ache of feeling unheard are all too real. Here’s the heartfelt truth: That silence didn’t just take your voice away; it shaped your perception of yourself. It instilled doubt about your reality, encouraged you to push aside your feelings, and made you erase your story before anyone had the chance to challenge it. but the real answer is that no one can take your story away. The pain belongs to you. The betrayal, the heartache and the disgust. But this doesn’t mean this is your forever existence. in fact, this is your breakthrough to reclaim your story and who you really are. And not who they said you were, but who healing says you are. So what if you could begin to reclaim your narrative? What if the journey of healing begins not with trying to fix everything at once but with sharing one small truth at a time? What if the most courageous step you could take was to stop hiding the story that others wished you would forget? Let’s Take a Moment to Reflect: - When was the first time you felt you had to stay quiet? - Which parts of your story still feel “off-limits” to voice? - How would your life change if you allowed yourself to be fully seen? - Even by just one safe person? You deserve to be heard. Even if your voice quivers in the process. Even if it takes time and courage. Even if not everyone believes or understands your experiences. You are not too much, and you were never not enough. Your voice has never been the issue. It is, in fact, vital to your healing process. Your truth matters more than you might realize. It’s how you take back your life, and it truly does make a difference. You didn’t make up the silence. Neither the emptiness you felt. You didn’t imagine the pain. And your longing to be known is not being over-sensitive — it’s a sign that the deepest part of you is still alive. Conclusion: Your silence may not have mattered to them, but it certainly matters to you. They may have ignored your pain, denied your truth, or dismissed your tears, but that does not diminish the significance of your story. It absolutely matters. Every moment you survived. Every feeling you buried. Every truth you're just beginning to voice— It all holds weight. They may have tried to silence you, but healing is about reclaiming your voice. It’s about embracing the story you were denied the chance to tell. Your voice is powerful. Your story carries immense weight. And even if they chose not to listen, you can—and that is what transforms everything. So what if you stopped hiding the story they told you to forget?
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