Part 1 — The Girls Who Survived the Hill (Then and Now)

The hill wasn't just for the boys.

People talk about the boys — how wild they were, how lost they were, how nobody guided them.
But the truth is this:

The girls were there too.
And for them, the hill was even harsher.

The boys got attention when they fell.
The girls were told to stay standing.
The boys shouted.
The girls stayed quiet because nobody listened anyway.
The boys ran away.
The girls stayed — because someone had to.

Back in the sixties and seventies, girls weren't allowed to speak up.
They weren't allowed to complain.
They weren't allowed to show fear.
They weren't allowed to break.

Silence wasn't a habit —
it was a rule.

But here's the thing:

The hill never disappeared.
It just changed shape.

Today's girls stand on the same ground —
just with different shadows.

The old hill had secrets behind closed doors.
The modern hill has pressure behind screens.
Different generation.
Same wound.

Some girls disappeared into responsibility.
Others into perfection.
Others into silence.
But some… some came back.

And this is their truth —
seven hard realities about the girls who survived the hill:

1. Some girls raised entire families before they learned who they were.

Back then, adults fell apart and expected the girls to stay whole.
Little mothers in small bodies.
They were the emotional backbone of houses that never protected them.

Today, girls still carry the same weight —
just hidden better.
They carry everyone while pretending they're fine themselves.

2. Some girls learned that being needed was more important than being safe.

They weren't allowed to rest.
They weren't allowed to be fragile.
They weren't allowed to fail.

They saved everyone except themselves.

3. Some girls broke quietly because loud pain wasn't allowed.

The boys exploded.
The girls imploded.
They hid their breakdowns behind chores, dinners, and small polite smiles.

Today's girls hide them behind filters, perfect photos, flawless masks.

Different disguise.
Same wound.

4. Some girls lost their childhoods to responsibility.

They protected siblings, calmed chaos, kept peace.
They weren't children.
They were shields.

And the world still expects them to be the strong one — always.

5. Some girls learned to wear a thousand voices — but never their own.

Be good.
Be calm.
Be sweet.
Be pretty.
Don't upset anyone.

Their real voice was buried under scripts the world gave them.

6. Some girls left the hill — but the hill never left them.

They grew up, moved away, built lives.
But their nervous system stayed tense, waiting for chaos.
Trauma doesn't care what year it is.

The ghosts follow you until you face them.

7. And some girls — the toughest ones — came back from the dark.

They didn't return healed.
They didn't return perfect.
They returned aware.

Aware of what they survived.
Aware of who they are.
Aware of the voice they buried.

And they came back to take it back.

This is where Part 1 ends:

The girls who survived the old hill and the new hill didn't survive by accident.
They were forged.

And the ones who returned didn't come back to be silent —
they came back to be heard.

Raymond and Ken