The Door That Wouldn’t Open

The door is jammed shut. I’m stuck.

Behind a locked door,

unable to find a way out.

No dramatic sound, no sirens—

just me,

in the quiet,

trying to undo something

that shouldn’t have been done in the first place.

How did I get here?

I reach for my phone.

But calling home isn’t an option.

There is no “home” to call.

Not in the way that matters.

Not in the way that holds you

when the world feels too heavy.

And so, in this moment of being physically trapped,

another truth knocks louder:

Am I only living for survival?

Is this door just a door—

or a metaphor for all the other ones

that never opened for me?

Another missed opportunity,

another almost,

another not for you.

Because this isn’t just about a lock.

It’s about being locked out by silence.

Locked in by helplessness.

Locked away by a family

that only offers control

when you need care.

The hinges won’t budge.

Painted shut

by family who never asked if it was okay.

Who covered over my escape

with something she thought was helpful.

Something pretty.

I never asked her to.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it?

I wasn’t supposed to ask.

Just comply.

Just accept.

And now, the physical door is shut—

just like the emotional ones.

Shut by the ones who discarded me

for not fitting their script.

Shut by a “family”

who never learned to listen without judgment.

And here I am.

Still.

Realising—

I am alone.

And the kind of alone that can’t be fixed

by noise or company or pretending.

Doors are meant to open.

To let air in.

To let people in.

To let truth in.

Yet somehow, we’ve built lives behind doors that lock too easily.

Not just physically—but emotionally, relationally, spiritually.

And it starts at home.

Home should be the first place with an open-door policy.

Not just to knock, but to be heard.

To feel welcome in your own skin.

To say, “I’m struggling” without being dismissed or judged.

To speak without fear of retaliation.

Because if your home is shut,

you carry that silence into everything else—

your friendships, your workplace, your future self.

At work, an open-door policy isn’t just about physical access.

It’s about emotional safety.

A culture where voices matter more than hierarchy.

Where questions aren’t punished.

Where listening is a skill—not a formality.

Whether it’s home or work—

an open door says:

“You’re not a burden.

You belong here.

You’re allowed to need.”

Closed doors breed quiet resentment.

Open ones invite growth, dialogue, and human connection.

So check the doors in your life—

and ask yourself:

Are they closed to protect your power,

or open to share it?

Silenced Voices… allow yourself the freedom to feel your voice. Voices of the voiceless.

Always,

Zahra