Before the Story: A Letter to the Ones Who Will Read It

Content Warning:

This post discusses themes related to sexual assault, trauma, and the emotional aftermath. Please take care of yourself as you read. If this content feels too heavy right now, it’s okay to return when you’re ready—or not at all.

There’s a version of me that existed before it happened—before my body became a battleground, before silence became my shield. I used to think stories like mine happened to other people, the ones you read about but never become. But then it was me. And nothing was the same after.

This post is not the story. Not yet. This is the space before—the inhale before the scream, the stillness before the unraveling. This is where I tell you what it means to even consider speaking the truth aloud.

I’ve carried these memories in my bones, in the tightness of my chest, in every relationship I’ve tried to rebuild on shaky ground. For years, I asked myself if telling this story would do more harm than good. If silence was safer. If vulnerability was worth the risk. But the truth is: I’m tired of shrinking around my own pain. I’m tired of letting shame write the narrative.

So, this is me reclaiming it.

Not for pity. Not for performance. But for power—and for peace.

The Bold Insight has always been about truth—the kind that stings and frees you at the same time. This space isn’t polished or pretty, but it’s real. It’s mine. And it might be yours too. Maybe your pain looks different. Maybe your story isn’t the same. But if you’ve ever swallowed your voice, blurred yourself to survive, or stitched up wounds no one could see—then maybe you’ll find yourself somewhere in these words.

Over the coming posts, I’ll be sharing pieces of my truth: what led to that night, the silence that followed, the cost of healing, and everything in between. I’m not here to tie it up with a bow. I’m here to tell it as it was—and as it is.

This is the beginning.

With truth and courage,

Lindsey