Things I Wish I Knew Sooner

By Trinity Barnette

Life lessons on love, boundaries, sex, survival, and trust.

There are so many things I had to learn the hard way. Through pain. Through silence. Through gut feelings I ignored and wounds I didn’t know how to name at the time. Looking back, I wish I could sit down with the younger version of me and tell her what I know now—about love, trust, boundaries, and survival. Maybe then she would’ve felt less alone. Maybe then she would’ve protected herself a little sooner.

These are the things I wish I knew before life forced me to learn:

I wish I knew that sex is an intimate act that deserves love and trust.

I didn’t know what it really meant when I lost my virginity. I thought it was just something people did. I didn’t understand that sex opens your spirit—your energy—to someone else. That it should be mutual, safe, and sacred. That your body isn’t something to just give away to feel seen. It’s something to honor. And I wish I had known I was worthy of that kind of care.

I wish I knew the importance of boundaries before I started abandoning myself for other people.

I spent so much time putting everyone else first—people-pleasing, fixing, staying quiet so others could be comfortable. I didn’t understand that boundaries aren’t selfish. They’re survival. They’re self-respect. And if someone walks away because you have boundaries? They were never meant to stay.

I wish I would’ve trusted my intuition.

So many moments in my life started with a gut feeling—something’s off, something’s not right—but I silenced it. I convinced myself I was overreacting. I didn’t want to believe the truth that my body already knew. But your intuition is sacred. It’s the part of you that’s still trying to protect you, even when you’ve stopped protecting yourself.

I wish I knew that my mental health isn’t something to be ashamed of.

For a long time, I blamed myself for how I felt—for the spirals, the panic, the emotional intensity. I thought I was just broken. I didn’t realize I had real diagnoses that explained everything. I wasn’t “too much.” I was just unmedicated, unsupported, and misunderstood. My mental health doesn’t define me—but it does deserve care.

I wish I knew how cold and manipulative some people can be.

I used to think everyone was like me—empathetic, soft, honest. But the truth is, not everyone has a heart. Some people lie. Some people lovebomb. Some people study your weakness and use it against you. And that’s not your fault. But it’s something you need to know.

I wish I knew that love shouldn’t hurt.

I’ve had people swear they loved me while doing things that broke me. And I let them—because I thought love meant sacrifice. Pain. Endurance. But now I know better. Love isn’t supposed to confuse you or destroy your peace. Real love feels safe. Real love sees you. Real love protects.

I wish I knew that not everyone has good intentions.

This one hurt the most. I’ve always been the type to give people the benefit of the doubt. But not everyone has a heart like mine. Some people come into your life to take. To manipulate. To break you open and then walk away. Protect your energy. Not everyone is worth access.

I wish I knew that time reveals people’s true colors.

People aren’t always what they seem. Charm can mask cruelty. Attention can mimic love. Consistency matters more than words. You don’t really know someone until you’ve seen them angry, disappointed, or told no.

I wish I would’ve forgiven myself sooner.

I carried shame for so long—over things I couldn’t control, things that were never my fault. I thought if I punished myself enough, I’d feel clean again. But healing didn’t come from shame. It came from grace. It came from letting go.

I wish I knew that some people are just cruel.

I kept trying to humanize the people who hurt me. I made excuses for them. I saw their inner child and ignored their present damage. But some people hurt others because they want to. Because they can. Because cruelty gives them control. And that’s not yours to fix.

I wish I knew that I can’t save people who don’t want to save themselves.

No amount of love, loyalty, or understanding can fix someone who isn’t ready. You can hold space. You can care. But you can’t carry them. Healing is a choice—and it’s not your responsibility to make it for them.

I wish I knew all of this sooner. But now that I do, I’ll never forget it. And maybe, just maybe—if you needed to hear any of this today—you won’t either.