The Ache of Feeling Unheard

Feeling unheard is one of the hardest experiences to carry. It pulls me back to childhood, to a time when silence was survival. I learned early that my voice did not matter, that I could be dismissed, invalidated, and often afraid to speak. The unspoken rule was clear: I am the adult, you are the child. It left me, and so many others, voiceless.

Even now, when I feel unheard, it shakes me to my core. My first instinct is to retreat into silence or to erupt in frustration and anger, swinging between rage and grief. Despite all the healing I have worked toward, there is still a part of me, my inner teenager, who wants to scream, "Listen to me!" Years of being made to feel small and too much have worn down my sense of self.

I am tired of being told to soften my tone, to regulate my emotions to make others comfortable. It is exhausting to carry decades of gaslighting that taught me to doubt my own anger. To be heard, I am expected to package my feelings neatly, to make them palatable. So I have swallowed my rage, buried my grief, and worked to seem agreeable even when it hurts.

Even when I am calm, even when I speak with all the reason in the world, I still find myself unheard. This is especially true for femme-presenting people like me. Many of us end up paying therapists simply to feel listened to, to have a basic human need met that should never come with a price tag.

Therapy has been transformative for me, and I value it deeply. Yet it is disheartening that something so essential often feels out of reach unless you can afford it. Why do we not teach listening and validation in schools? Imagine how much heartbreak could be spared if we all grew up learning to truly hear and honor each other.

My rage is my grief. It is an old companion aching for acknowledgment. For so long it has been screaming inside me, asking, "Why cannot you see me? Why cannot you hear me?" Like so many, I have been made to feel too much, too emotional, too insecure, when all I want is to be respected and understood.

Writing helps. It gives me a space to release the storm before it swallows me whole. But we need more spaces where voices are truly welcomed, where feelings are honored, and where silence does not feel like the only option.

So here is to speaking our truths even when it feels uncomfortable. Here is to honoring our emotions even when they are messy. And here is to creating a world where everyone feels seen, heard, and understood because that is where healing begins.