"Who will protect me?"
It’s a question I ask myself almost daily—who will protect me? It’s not just a fleeting thought; it’s a reality that lingers in my mind as a woman navigating this world. I wish I could go back to a time when I didn’t have to think like this, when I could live without always being on guard. But I can’t.
That night—the night when innocence was taken from me—changed everything. It wasn’t just an event, it was the moment I realized I would never be fully safe in this world. I’ve never looked at people the same way since. That night didn’t just take my innocence—it stole my trust, my sense of security, my ability to breathe easy in a room full of strangers. No matter who is in my life, no matter how much love I feel from them, there is always that seed of doubt. Because you never truly know someone’s intentions.
Do I think that’s any way to live? No, absolutely not. But when someone violently takes something that is no one’s to take, you begin to believe you’ll never be safe again. It breaks something in you. It makes you question everything—every relationship, every touch, every promise of protection.
To be completely honest, there is one person who makes me feel safe—one person I believe would never harm me. But even with him, the scars from that night don’t fade easily. Since then, I’ve had to fight for myself, build walls around my heart, and keep people at arm’s length. It’s been a survival mechanism. I didn’t want anyone to see the darkness that lurks beneath the surface, the way anxiety grips me, or the way I can never fully let my guard down.
Even with my ex-husband, the man I spent years with, I hid the darkest parts of myself. I fought him on seeing the pain, fought him on understanding how deep the wounds ran. I wasn’t just protecting myself from him; I was protecting him from me—from the weight of what I carried. I’ve been in fight-or-flight mode for so long, I don’t know how to be any other way. No one knows what really happened that night. I have never told a single soul, mainly to protect them. No one has ever asked, and part of me wishes someone would so I could get it off my chest, but I know they will run. I know deep down, I will leave this Earth still protecting everyone else.
So, who will protect me? I’ve always been the protector. I fight for everyone around me. I carry the weight of their struggles, their battles, even the ones that aren’t mine. I fight for the people I love, and sometimes even for strangers. But when will I feel safe? When will I get to lay down my armor and just be?
And then came Corey. He walked into my life like a force of nature, busting through the door—metaphorically and figuratively—and everything shifted. I don’t know how he does it, but his simple presence makes me feel grounded. When I’m with him, the nightmares stop. The fear subsides. It’s both a relief and terrifying all at once. How can someone who knows so little about my past make it all feel okay? How is it that when he’s near, my world makes sense again?
But that comfort—the safety he brings—it scares me too. It gives him a kind of control over me that I’ve never allowed anyone to have. That’s something I struggle with deeply. Handing my safety, my happiness over to someone else feels intense, like I’m giving away a part of myself that I’ve fought to protect for so long.
How does someone who’s spent over a decade fighting to stay alive—both mentally and physically—learn to trust again? How do I hand over the reins and trust that Corey will handle me with care? That he won’t hurt me the way others have? That he won’t break me?
I’ve asked myself this so many times—is anyone ever fully protected? And even more terrifying, what if he leaves? Will I ever feel that sense of relief, that sense of safety again, or will it vanish as quickly as it came?
I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel fully safe. But for now, Corey is here, and with him, the world feels a little less frightening. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe, just for a moment, I can let my guard down and breathe.
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