I'm sure everyone's heard of the word "Sonder": the awareness that other people all have their own lives as crazy and complex as your own. That word really resonates with me because when I was younger, I grew up with an absent, abusive father, and this led to me struggling to understand why this was happening to me and if I was the only one facing these issues.

This went on for around 12 years, and it finally ended after my 13th birthday, so it is still hard to talk about sometimes. A part of me still wonders why my father did what he did, and whether it was my fault, as he always said. It's a lingering feeling I can't seem to shake. Sometimes I wonder about what life would be like if it were still going on today. Life has recently felt too easy; I feel as if I don’t have a care in the world.

I now spend my time on sports and working out, living my life to the fullest, because I remember a time when I couldn't. I don’t think childhood trauma is talked about enough. No one hears or listens to their stories, so they feel isolated because they think no one can relate to them, and I know this firsthand because I know what it's like to not be able to talk about your own personal experiences and struggles and this is something I pray other kids don’t have to ever go through but for the kids that can relate to my story I hope they feel heard.

When this was going on, I was never allowed to play sports, so now, when I'm going to practices or away games, three hours of baseball practice feel like a fever dream. I fell in love with baseball since the first time I gripped the bat in 8th grade; my heart, which once felt empty, finally feels so full when I'm playing. I think it's mainly because I'm finally happy, or maybe I'm just at peace with everything in my past. Now my focus is growth: it's getting stronger in the weight room, pushing through that last rep when my arms feel like they’re going to give out, sprinting out that last lap even when my legs are burning. Strangely, that discipline feels healing; all the blood and sweat are proof I'm not stuck in that position. I once couldn't escape; I get to choose hard things now. And there's something powerful about choosing a challenge instead of pain forced on you.

I don't think what happened to me will ever completely disappear, and maybe it’s not supposed to. Maybe it’s a part of my story that shaped the courage I carry today. I still have moments where the past feels close, where my old thoughts try to creep back in, but they don’t control me the way they used to. When I step on the field, I'm reminded that I'm not a powerless kid anymore, I'm someone who endured it, someone who fought through silent battles and came out still capable of joy. Baseball didn’t erase my past, but it gave me a future. And every time I play, it feels like silent proof that I made it out.

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