It’s that raw, frustrating feeling of being undervalued, like your thoughts and emotions are just background noise. As if they are just distractions from what really matters and are meant to be just disregarded and dismissed.
I remember a time at my old job, I was an auditor in a small firm. I poured everything into an engagement, convinced that my ideas could make a real difference. I came to work earlier than anyone and left later than anyone. I did my best. I was even proud when I was doing it. I thought I was doing something amazing, something important. Then the meeting finally came, I spoke up, eager to share the proposal I worked for days—but the room stayed silent. No acknowledgment, no feedback. Just blank stares before the conversation moved on, as if I hadn’t spoken at all. They shut down my ideas before I can even begin to present them. That moment stuck with me, not just because it was disappointing, but because it made me question whether I even belonged there.
Then there was college. Group projects should be about collaboration, right? But in reality, there’s always that one person who steamrolls over everyone else. I remember sitting there, ideas forming in my head, only to hesitate. What if I spoke up and got shut down? What if my input didn’t matter? Every time I tried to contribute, my words were drowned out by louder voices. No one listened before, would it be different this time? Eventually, I just stopped trying. The frustration wasn’t just about being deliberately ignored—it was about feeling invisible, unwanted.
And family? That’s a whole different battle. Just recently, my mother made an offhand comment about my circumstances, my failures, her disappointments to me and why I am still stuck working as a rank and file employee with meager salary. Her comments meant not to hurt, I know, but it stung anyway. It reminded me of all the times my efforts and hardwork felt overlooked, the way certain roles and expectations seem cemented in place. It’s one thing to feel unheard in a workplace or a classroom, but when it happens at home, where you’re supposed to feel safe, it cuts even deeper.
But here’s the thing: you and I deserve to be heard. We all do.
Finding your voice isn’t about being the loudest in the room or forcing people to listen. It’s about knowing your worth. It’s about setting boundaries, saying "no" when you need to, and standing your ground even when it’s uncomfortable. Sometimes, it’s about choosing to walk away from situations that no longer serve you, even when it’s hard. And most importantly, it’s about surrounding yourself with the right people—those who see you, who listen and try to understand you, those who value you, who remind you that you matter.
That’s why Aroa’s story resonates so much with me. She’s a character from my fantasy novel,
Blood of Immortals. I tried my best to make her struggle feels so real despite the fantasy realm setting. Born into a world that expected her to stay quiet and obedient, she was constantly belittled, manipulated, and betrayed—especially by the person she trusted the most. And for a long time, she endured it, because that’s what she was taught to do.
Until one day, she made a choice.
When they tried to break her completely—framing her for crimes she didn’t commit, punishing her for simply existing—she didn’t let them define her. Instead, she threw herself into the River of Hellfire, a desperate but powerful act of defiance. When she emerged, everything had changed. Her crimson hair and fierce black eyes were a physical manifestation of the transformation within her. She was no longer the meek girl they could control. She had reclaimed her power.
Aroa’s story isn’t just about battles and fantasy; it’s about what it means to finally find your voice, to stand up for yourself. To stop shrinking. To stop waiting for someone else to recognize your value as a person.
Maybe you’re not fighting gods and monsters, but I know you have your own struggles. Maybe you feel small, unworthy. Maybe you feel betrayed, abandoned. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that your voice doesn’t matter.
But it does. A lot.
And if no one has told you this yet: you have the power to rewrite your story. Speak up, even when it feels impossible. Stand your ground, even when others try to silence you. And most of all, believe—truly believe—that you deserve more.
Because you do.
And just like Aroa, you’re stronger than you think.
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