Skip to main content

"You Do You, But Don’t You Dare Rewrite Someone Else’s Trauma"

 




Family and trauma. Two words that should never sit next to each other, but somehow, they often do.

You ever notice how a single event can shatter an entire household in different ways? You put ten people in the same room, and you’ll come out with ten different versions of the same explosion. Some remember the fire, others only the smoke. And some? Some will swear nothing ever burned at all.

That’s the thing about trauma—it’s personal. It’s not up for debate, it's not a roundtable topic, and it's definitely not yours to discredit just because your memory paints it in softer colors. Maybe you blocked things out. Maybe you weren’t the target. Maybe you just weren’t paying attention. That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18
“Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” – Matthew 7:1

When someone finally has the strength—the courage—to speak up about what they lived through, it’s like watching them strip their soul bare in front of the world. And what do some family members do? They throw stones at it. Whisper behind backs. Toss around the word “liar” like they own the rights to the truth.

Well, newsflash: truth isn’t one-size-fits-all. Trauma doesn’t play by your rules. And your guilt, your denial, your absence? That’s not a valid reason to try and silence someone else’s voice.

If you weren’t there in the darkest hours—if you weren’t the one being screamed at, beaten down, humiliated, or abandoned—then you don’t get to say how someone else should feel about it. You don’t get to be the moral police of someone else's healing journey.

“Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy.” – Proverbs 14:10

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” – Galatians 6:2

I’ve watched a man I love unravel the pain of a childhood no one protected him from. I’ve heard the raw screams through a prison phone line, the breakdowns mid-sentence, the “I can’t take this anymore” aftershocks that trauma still sends, years later, while he's locked behind concrete and steel, trying to piece together who he is under all that damage.

He remembers. All of it. Every moment. Every silence. Every betrayal. He lives with it. And the worst part? The people who should’ve stood by him are the ones who now stand furthest away.

So if you’re one of those people, let me say this with love, but without any apology: YOU DO YOU.

Be angry. Be defensive. Keep rewriting history if that makes you sleep better at night. But don’t you dare look someone in the eye—or worse, tell others behind their back—that their version of the story isn’t valid. That it’s not real. That it’s “dramatic” or “exaggerated.” Because unless you wore their skin, felt their fear, cried their tears… you simply. do. not. know.

“They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. ‘Peace, peace,’ they say, when there is no peace.” – Jeremiah 6:14
“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” – Philippians 2:4

And don’t pretend like you're feeling “guilty” for not being there back then if all you’re gonna do now is ghost them again. Because all that does is reopen the same wounds they were barely starting to scab over.

Me? Hate me if you want. Talk all the mess you want because I speak up, because I share his truth, because I won’t back down. I’ve got thick skin, bigger shoulders, and a fire in my chest that won’t go out. I’m the one here—every single damn day—picking up the shattered pieces while the rest of you stand at a distance and pass judgment.

I choose to be the one holding him up. Through the tears. Through the trauma. Through the 15-minute calls that always end too soon but never end the pain.

You don’t get to judge that. Not him. Not me. Not any survivor who has the guts to open up.

So yeah. You do you.

But don’t ever forget:
He lived it.
He still is.
And you? You left.
So think twice before you speak.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.” – Proverbs 31:8

#EppersonEmpowerment #PowerOfOurVoicesLLC #SpeakYourTruth #FamilyTrauma #TraumaSurvivors #HealingIsNotLinear #BiblicalTruth #MentalHealthAwareness #YouDoYouButStayInYourLane #FromGuardToWife #RealTalkRealPain #PrisonAdvocacy #WeWillNotBeSilenced #StandByYourPerson #BiblicalJustice #SurvivorsDeserveSupport

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Beating You Weren’t Supposed to See: A Former AZDOC Officer Speaks Out

  Let me tell you something right now — that viral 3-minute video Fox 10 Phoenix aired last week? That wasn’t the whole story. That was just the tip of the blood-soaked iceberg. As a former Arizona Department of Corrections Officer, I know exactly what you're looking at in that video. You’re seeing the tail end of a brutal, calculated beatdown that started long before the cameras started rolling. That inmate? He’d already been dragged, pummeled, and bled out — by the time he was being chased down the entire length of the prison yard like a damn scene out of a gladiator movie. Fox 10’s report referred to it as a fight that “spilled out into the prison yard.” SPILLED OUT? Like someone knocked over a soda. No — this wasn’t some spontaneous scuffle. That man was hunted . Let’s Break Down the Bullsh*t Donna Hamm’s Comment: “The inmates are running the asylum, and that's not what the taxpayers in Arizona are paying for.” Newsflash: the inmates have always run the yard. Th...
Post a Comment
Read more

Fighting for Ryan: The Battle for His Life Inside Arizona’s Broken System

  I never thought I’d be writing this. Not like this. Not as the wife of the man I used to guard, used to protect. Not as someone on the outside screaming for help that should’ve been automatic on the inside. But here we are. I used to serve this system. Now I’m exposing it. I used to wear the uniform. Sixteen hours a day, six days a week, I walked those same yards. I protected inmates, respected them, loved them—because I knew most of them had never known compassion a day in their life. I saw their pain, their potential, their humanity. And now? Now I’m fighting like hell for the one who stole my heart behind those very walls. My husband is being failed. Deliberately. Repeatedly. Brutally. For days now— too many days —my husband has been locked down in complete isolation under what they call “observation.” No family contact. No personal belongings. No consistent monitoring. No treatment plan. What he’s getting instead? A blanket and a pill. They’re trying to medicate h...
Post a Comment
Read more

Fighting a Whole Prison System: One Wife's War for Justice

Let me tell you what it’s like to go to war—not with guns or bombs, but with phone calls, legal documents, and a heart that refuses to give up. I’m not just fighting for my husband—I’m fighting against an entire prison system built to wear people down until they give up. But I won’t. I haven’t. And I never will. My husband is incarcerated in Arizona Department of Corrections. And what started out as a mission to simply advocate for his safety has turned into a full-scale, nonstop battle with a system so corrupt, so broken, and so indifferent to human life that some days, I feel like I'm in the twilight zone. Where do I begin? Maybe with the time he was brutally attacked by another inmate and had to go into protective custody. Or when they transferred him from Red Rock to La Palma without notice, like a pawn on a chessboard. Or the multiple times his PC requests were denied, despite evidence of credible threats—and then used against him to accuse him of making false allegations. The...
Post a Comment
Read more