I’m Not Brave. I’m Just Out of Bullshit.

What it actually feels like to stop protecting your abusers and start reclaiming your voice — for real this time.

April 18, 2025

I’m not trying to be inspirational. I’m not here to give you five steps to forgiveness or a script to politely explain your trauma to the people who caused it.

I’m here because I ran out of bullshit.

The bullshit that said:

  • “Maybe it wasn’t that bad.”

  • “They didn’t mean to.”

  • “It’s on me to be the bigger person.”

  • “If I just stay quiet, it’ll go away.”

I kept their secrets like they were sacred. But all it ever did was silence me and protect them.

You don’t owe silence to the people who hurt you. And you sure as hell don’t owe them a softened version of what happened.

You’re Not Brave for Telling the Truth. You’re Brave for Surviving It.

People think speaking up is the hardest part. It’s not.

The hardest part is living with the unspoken truth for years. Decades. Carrying it like a ghost. Explaining away your panic. Smiling while you freeze. Letting everyone else see you as strong while you secretly wonder if you’re just irreparably broken.

The hardest part is pretending you’re fine when you haven’t felt safe since childhood.

So when people call you brave for finally saying it out loud? Nah. You were brave long before that.

This Is What Reclaiming Your Voice Actually Feels Like:

  • It doesn’t feel empowering at first. It feels sickening.

  • You think you might be exaggerating. You’re not.

  • You wonder if you’ll be believed. You might not.

  • You say it shaking. You say it anyway.

  • You feel guilty after. That’s not a sign you were wrong. It’s a sign you were conditioned.

And when it finally lands? When your own words hit your chest and you realize, "I wasn’t crazy. I was just lied to" — that’s when the grief comes.

Not just grief for what happened. Grief for how long you kept it hidden.

I Don’t Want Closure. I Want Clarity.

I don’t want to have a conversation. I don’t want to hear their side. I don’t want to meet in the middle.

I want the silence broken. I want the truth out. I want the spell undone.

Because every time I softened the story to make someone else comfortable, I became complicit in my own erasure.

No more.

If You’re Ready to Stop Protecting Them Too…

Just know this:

You don’t owe a sanitized version. You don’t need a permission slip. You don’t have to be calm, kind, or collected. You don’t have to explain your trauma in a TED Talk tone.

You’re allowed to be raw. You’re allowed to be pissed. You’re allowed to be done.

And if you’re not there yet, that’s okay too. But when you are? Let it rip. Because the truth you speak might be the first breath someone else takes.

This Isn’t Bravery. This Is Integrity.

I’m not here to be polite. I’m not here to make it digestible. I’m not here to clean up the mess someone else made.

I’m here to say what needs to be said. Because if no one ever tells the truth, the silence wins.

And I’m not interested in playing quiet anymore.

—Cody Taymore

More essays, stories, and tools:KillTheSilenceMovement.com