The Rules Nobody Said Out Loud

Nobody really sits you down and explains the rules.

You just become part of them.

They simply become part of everyday life.

Nobody handed you a list.

Nobody said,

“Around here, this is what we do.”

Everybody just fell into place.

Everybody just knew what their part was because they’d lived inside of it.

You learned not to ask certain questions because questions could lead to an explosion.

Questions could lead to a family fight.

Questions could lead to somebody becoming the target.

So you slowly learned what not to ask.

What not to bring up.

Not because somebody told you not to.

Because every time you asked…

something happened.

You knew whose mood mattered before your own.

You knew when to stop talking.

You knew when it was safer to disappear.

You knew when to laugh…even if the joke hurt.

You knew which stories stayed inside the house.

Somehow…

you also knew which version of your family everyone else was supposed to see.

You stopped trusting what you experienced more than what everyone else agreed was true.

You didn’t learn those things because someone taught you.

Somehow…

they simply became part of everyday life.

Maybe not in words.

Just in the way your family worked.

Every once in a while…

something inside of you quietly wondered,

“I don’t understand.”

But nobody else seemed confused.

Everybody else acted like this was just how families were.

So little by little…

you stopped questioning the family…

and started questioning yourself.

So you stopped asking.

You stopped bringing certain things up.

You stopped saying,

“That’s not what happened.”

Not because you stopped remembering.

Because the truth changed the room.

Sometimes the room became so quiet…

you didn’t know what to do next.

So you waited.

Hoping it was over.

And eventually…

you stopped saying it out loud.

Not because it wasn’t true.

Because nothing changed when you did.

You stopped bringing it up.

You stopped asking.

You stopped expecting anyone to explain it.

After a while…

it just didn’t seem worth saying anymore.

Nobody ever told you to stop.

It wasn’t planned.

It simply became part of how the family stayed together.

When you’re growing up inside of it…

it doesn’t feel unusual.

It just feels like something everybody knows.

Because that’s what families do.

They stick together.

They fight together.

They cry together.

They move on together.

It isn’t until much later…

maybe years later…

that someone hears one of your stories…

and they stop.

They look at you differently.

They ask a question nobody inside your home ever asked.

“What happened?”

Or…

“Are you okay?”

Or simply…

“That isn’t how it should have been.”

And for just a moment…

you don’t know how to answer.

Because to you…

it was just a story.

It was just your family.

It was just home.

And that’s when something begins to shift.

Not all at once.

Just enough to wonder…

Maybe…

it wasn’t just you.

— Tawnia Lives