The Rage No One Talks About

©️ By Sophie Lewis | The Grooming Files | Shadowborn Series

There’s a part of healing no one warns you about, the part where the sadness burns off, and underneath it, there’s rage. Not irritation. Not restlessness. Rage. The kind that rattles your ribcage. The kind that says, “They should’ve stopped it. Someone should’ve protected me.”

It doesn’t arrive politely. It crashes through you. It rips off the performance you’ve worn to survive, the one that says you’re ‘healing nicely’, the one that makes everyone else feel comfortable. Rage is what shows up when you finally understand that what happened to you wasn’t okay. And it never will be.

I used to think my anger made me unstable. Now I know, it made me honest.

We weren’t allowed to feel this.

Because survivors are expected to be soft. Quiet. Inspirational. Because a woman screaming is still seen as hysterical. Because an angry man is labelled dangerous. Because we were taught that forgiveness is divine, but fury is shameful.

But that rage? That’s your truth trying to surface. That’s your body finally believing you.

It’s the part of you that didn’t get to fight back. It’s the voice that got silenced when you were too young, too small, too trapped. It’s the protective fire that never got to burn, now rising through the ashes of survival.

This isn’t dysfunction. This is sacred.

Rage is what happens when your nervous system finally stops freezing and starts moving. It’s not a failure, it’s a recalibration. A signal. A breakthrough.

You’re not lashing out. You’re waking up. You’re not toxic. You’re tired of pretending it didn’t hurt.

Some people meditate. Some people journal. Some people scream into the void. And sometimes, that is the most honest sound you’ll ever make.

Rage is not your enemy. It’s your witness.

It remembers what you were told to forget. It holds the receipts for every time you smiled while dying inside. It’s the energy of a body trying to come back into itself.

Let it rise. Let it say what you were never allowed to. Let it write the letters you never sent. Let it name the names. Even if only in your journal. Let it breathe without guilt.

And then, when it’s been heard, let it settle. Not because you’ve buried it again, but because it finally had space to speak.

This is part of healing.

The storm. The edge. The unedited scream. Not the breakdown. The breakthrough.

You don’t have to stay in it forever. But you do have to stop pretending it doesn’t live inside you.

You are allowed to feel this. You are allowed to burn what betrayed you. You are allowed to stop being polite in the face of pain.

This part of you, the fire, the fury, the fight.. isn’t separate from your healing. It is your healing.

You just finally gave it permission to speak.

🖤 Soph x