They Never Saw What I Was Fighting. But I Fought Anyway

Some things don’t leave visible marks.

There were no chains. No locked doors. No loud arguments. Just silence, distance, and decisions I wasn’t a part of. I didn’t get to choose where I stayed. I didn’t get to explain how I felt. I was expected to adjust, remain quiet, and follow what had already been decided.

People around me never saw anything unusual. To them, I was just home. Maybe a little withdrawn. Maybe not picking up calls. But nothing alarming. That’s how easy it is to hide things.

What they didn’t see were the quiet breakdowns. The cold stares. The unspoken rules. The mental noise never stopped. Being moved away from everything familiar while pretending to be okay.

There wasn’t a single day that felt normal. Even doing regular things, eating, sleeping, and looking out of the window, came with a sense of being stuck. I wasn’t physically tied down, but it felt like I had no control. Every decision felt like it belonged to someone else.

The Things That Don’t Get Talked About

No one really talks about what it feels like to be stuck in a situation where you can’t express anything fully. Where even if you speak, you know it won’t be heard the way you mean it. So after a while, you stop trying.

• You stop explaining. 
• You stop defending. 
• You stop hoping that something will change just because you want it to.

There’s no single turning point or big moment that changes everything. Things just keep building slowly until you reach a point where everything feels numb. And you carry on like that, numb, detached, and exhausted from pretending.

What was it like?

The most challenging part was not one big thing. It was the collection of small things that happened every day.

• Having to act like everything was fine when it wasn’t. 
• Watching others move freely while you are stuck in the same place.
•  Feeling like a stranger in your own home.
• Knowing that the reasons behind all this are tied to things you can’t even talk about without causing more damage.

There’s no way to explain that kind of pressure to someone who hasn’t felt it. It’s not dramatic. It’s not visible. It’s just there, every day, in everything.

A Note on Moving Forward

Things didn’t magically get better. There wasn’t a major closure or big realisation. Just a slow shift in how I looked at the situation. I stopped waiting for understanding or fairness.

I started focusing on getting through each day. Not solving everything. Just getting through. And that became the only goal that made sense for a while.

That time changed the way I see people, silence, and even myself. Some parts of me still feel like they are recovering from it. Some days still feel heavy for no reason. But I keep going, not to prove anything, but because that’s the only thing left to do.