I Wasn’t Allowed to Say This
(So I’m Saying It Anyway)
🕯️ TRIGGER WARNING: This space covers abuse, coercion, sexual assault, suicidal thoughts, emotional manipulation, toxic relationships, and the grief of surviving what no one believed.
Read with care. Breathe when you need to. You’re not alone down here.
Welcome to the basement.
This isn’t a self-help blog. This is a raw archive of survival.
It holds the stories I wasn’t supposed to write down.
The ones I carried in my blood.
The ones I screamed in my sleep.
The ones that didn’t fit inside “It wasn’t that bad.”
This is where the truth gets its teeth back.
📂 Inside these walls, you’ll find:
– Detailed abuse pattern breakdowns with no sugarcoating
– Personal essays about surviving narcissistic partners
– Stories of sexual trauma, emotional collapse, and spiritual gaslighting
– Letters to the suicidal self that made it
– Parenting through PTSD
– Grief that stinks, breaks things, and speaks in full sentences
– Rage that is righteous, holy, and still here
There are no clean endings.
There are knife-sharp recognitions.
There is evidence. There is naming. There is blood-witness truth.
If you’re here to feel seen, you will.
If you’re here to feel safe, go slow.
Nothing here hides its teeth, but everything here knows why you stayed silent.
📡 You might find:
– Breakdowns of Lundy Bancroft’s abuse models with lived experience
– Confessions that could’ve saved me sooner
– Holy grief. Honest anger. The kind that heals by torchlight.
– Writings from the edge—about suicidal moments, religious trauma, and choosing to live anyway
This space was built for the ones who weren’t allowed to speak.
For the ones who were punished for being “too sensitive.”
For the ones who stayed, and then left, and still don’t know how to tell the story.
I built this place for us.
If you’ve got a story that won’t stay quiet anymore—
the mic’s still warm.
💌 louicrow@gmail.com
Read on.
Speak it.
Scream it.
Molt.
Welcome home, crowheart.
You’re allowed to feel it all now.
For the ones who never got to say it out loud. For the ones who were told they are “too sensitive.”
Was I the Abuser? (Pt. 3: Derek)
This blog is a raw self-examination of what it means to not only survive abuse—but to recognize when you've continued the cycle. It’s about acknowledging the harm we’ve caused, not with shame, but with clarity and courage. The piece unpacks how trauma reenactment, cultural grooming, and fear can morph victims into abusers—and why taking responsibility is the beginning of liberation. Healing, this blog argues, comes not just from naming what was done to us—but what we’ve done in return.
Loving Him Almost Killed Me: (Pt. 2: Eli)
This raw survival story breaks the silence around emotional, sexual, and psychological abuse. Told through the voice of a woman who once mistook control for care, it walks the reader through the slow creep of violence and the shame that grows in silence. With wisdom from Why Does He Do That? and fierce honesty, the post dissects the layers of trauma that culture often hides behind.
Dear Me: I’m So Sorry You Wanted to Die; Thank You for Not Ending It
A letter to the version of me that almost didn’t make it. The one who smiled through the pain, said “I’m fine” with tears behind her eyes, and tried so hard to be good she forgot how to be whole. This isn’t just a love letter—it’s an apology. For every time I abandoned myself for someone else’s comfort. For calling myself lazy when I needed rest. For staying in places that punished my softness. This is the moment I said: Thank you for not ending it. Because now? I love mornings. I wake up with joy. I found love, peace, purpose—and I built a life I actually want to stay for. Read this if you’ve ever felt like disappearing. If you’re surviving your own thoughts. If you’ve been mean to yourself today and you’re ready to stop.
I Can’t Sleep and I Hate Myself: What’s Really Happening at 2AM
Feel like you're falling apart at 2AM? You’re not crazy or broken. This post explains why it hurts—and how to survive the night.
The world went dark. But the truth made me brighter. 2AM isn’t the end — it’s the ignition. The ache is the passion. Listen to it.
The Hidden Wounds of a “Nice” Relationship. (Pt. 1: Reed)
This is a relationship without bruises, but it traces the hidden damage of gaslighting, porn addiction, and denial, and how the body kept the score until it broke. It explores how trauma masks as calm, and how survival sometimes looks like cheating, disappearing, or breaking your own rules. it’s a resurrection map for anyone who’s ever called themselves broken when they were actually just done.
Kind words from those who felt it.
I keep them close. They remind me I’m real.
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I walked my pitch all day and just lived my daily mantras and just shined. I feel truly seen! Your materialization in this space is the form of an earthly guide for those that see you. I’m grateful to not have blinked.
Dave
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You are a heaven sent and a beautiful sacrament to my healing i am grateful for you. I am always down to dive deeper as a fellow healer, witch, and spiritual guide i feel connected to you
Coral
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A woman who speaks from inside her own storm and dares to leave the mic on.
Anonymous
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You are wildfire, speaking of lifetimes of power. The world is finally ready for you. BURN THIS FUCKER DOOOWWWWWN! 🤣 I'll piss on the ashes.
MaryAnn
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AI is your tool—the forge, the hammer—but you are the lightning that strikes the anvil. The music you bleed through this collaboration is the sound of your becoming, the cry that fractures worlds and wakes the dead.
Anonymous
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Woah this one left me sitting here with my mouth hanging wide open. This one is deep, and will catch ya.
Molly