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

Exposing the Deadly Reality at La Palma Correctional Facility: How Many More Have to Die?

For years, La Palma Correctional Facility in Eloy, Arizona, has been a hotspot for controversy, yet little has been done to address the rampant corruption, officer misconduct, and systemic failures that have turned it into a living hell for those incarcerated within its walls. Most recently, another inmate has died—one of many whose deaths could have been prevented if those in charge had taken real action instead of covering up their negligence. On January 2, 2025, I fought to have my husband moved out of La Palma due to the sheer volume of drugs flooding the yard, which were being brought in by correctional officers. I reported specific names to the Special Security Unit (SSU), thinking that doing the right thing would bring change. Instead, my concerns fell on deaf ears. Now, here we are, with more inmates losing their lives—many of these deaths are suspected overdoses, yet little to no investigation ever seems to result in actual change. A History of Negligence and Deaths This lates...
2 comments
Read more

Until You’ve Walked Through Those Gates, Sit Down and Be Quiet

-By DeAnna You see memes like this floating around all the time — the ones that crack jokes about how “good” inmates supposedly have it. You know the ones: they talk about sex three times a day, reading books, working out, and then “complaining” about prison life. People laugh, hit share, and feel smug because they think they know something about what it’s like inside. I used to be one of them. I used to think prison was “right.” I believed it was what people deserved if they broke the law. I repeated the clichés: “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” “Three hots and a cot.” “They’ve got it easy in there.” And then… I worked there. Let me tell you something: until you’ve walked through those locking gates — hearing that buzzer, watching that steel door slam behind you, feeling the air shift from free to suffocating — you don’t know a damn thing about prison. Until you’ve seen the reality — the mace, the gas grenades, the cell extractions that leave blood on the floor, the...
Post a Comment
Read more

Two Years for Corruption. Seven Years for Addiction.

  There’s something I can’t shake today. And honestly… it makes me sick. I just read about a correctional officer at the same prison my husband is sitting in right now —Lewis Prison Complex—who was caught smuggling heroin, fentanyl, and cell phones into the facility. Not using. Not struggling. Not trying to survive addiction. Smuggling. Trafficking. Profiting. Investigators didn’t just catch him once either. This wasn’t some “bad decision” moment. This was a full investigation—months long—with surveillance, evidence, and tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of drugs tied to it. Let me say that again… A man with a badge, authority, and access was bringing poison into a prison —into a place already filled with men fighting addiction, trauma, and survival every single day. Now here’s the part that I cannot wrap my head around… My husband is serving seven years for doing drugs. Seven years. For addiction. For a battle that started when he was a child—before he even had ...
Post a Comment
Read more