My side of the story still matters—but it doesn’t matter anymore.

If that makes sense…try to follow my reasoning …. there was a time when I carried my story like a shield and a shadow, retelling it in my head, refining the details, hoping that if I explained it well enough—if I could make others understand—it would somehow change things. The weight of my truth would shift the scales, fairness would prevail, and acknowledgment would mend what was fragmented within me.

But life happened. It happened in ways I never expected and hurt more than I thought I could bear. It cut deep. For a long time and many years, I thought my healing would come from setting the record straight, from making sure my side of the story was told, understood, and validated.

And then something else happened.

I healed. Not because the past was rewritten, not because those who hurt me suddenly saw the error of their ways, but because I stopped needing them to. I stopped looking for understanding from people incapable of offering it. I stopped waiting for closure that would never come in the form I imagined.

Most importantly, I learned.

I recognized who deserves my attention and respect—who is worth my energy and who is not. I also realized over time that not everyone gets a seat at my table, no matter how long they’ve been in my life – no matter how much history we share; it isn’t enough. Blood isn’t enough. Longevity isn’t enough.

Integrity is. Effort is. Reciprocity is.

So yes, my side of the story still matters. It shaped me. It made me who I am. But it no longer defines me. I don’t need to prove, defend, or explain it to anyone who hasn’t earned the right to hear it. Because the truth is, not everyone deserves access to me—to my thoughts, heart, and presence, except those who read my digital diary, of course.

And yet, truth be told – I have written it. I’ve put it into words and will publish my story soon. Not because I need validation, not because it makes me feel better or worse—it doesn’t. But if my story can help someone else offer even a tiny light in someone else’s darkness, then it’s worth sharing.

I have learned to choose wisely.

I know who I welcome into my space and who I let go. I know whose presence brings warmth and authenticity and whose presence drains and diminishes. I know that healing isn’t about getting everyone to see your truth but about making peace that some never will. And that’s okay. Because at the end of the day, the only people who matter are the ones who never made me question whether I mattered to them.