Uncaged: Who I am, Why I'm Loud, and What This Blog Isn't Sorry For

June 6, 2025

Uncaged doesn't mean unbroken. It means I stopped asking to be fixed.

I used to think I had to earn my place.
Be quieter.
Be smaller.
Fit in.
Be "normal"
I used to think survival meant staying in line.

Now I know better.

I'm Lexy. I'm chaos, compassion, confidence, and claws. I've been through fire, bled on people who didn't deserve my story, and stitched myself back together more times than I can count. I've built myself from scars and sarcasm. I'm not sorry for being loud. I'm not sorry for being too much. And I'm sure as hell not sorry for taking up space.

This blog?
This isn't some neat little scrapbook of sunshine and pinterest quotes. This is the unfiltered reality of a woman who's been underestimated, broken, dismissed, and still rose like it was her job.

You'll find stories here that can't be wrapped upin bows. You'll find rage, resilience, and dark humor in places where most people would cry and shut down. You'll find power in pieces. And you'll find me-raw, imperfect, evolving, and absolutely not asking for your approval

So Who I am?

I'm a survivor, yes. But that's not the full story.

I'm someone who lives with invisible illnesses. A body that sometimes betrays me. A mind that moves at lightening speed and crashes just as fast. I've got epilepsy, PTSD, ADHD, chronic pain, and a laundry list of diagnoses that sound like a medical scavenger hunt. But I'm still standing. Still creating. Still laughing when everything hurts.

I've lived through more than most people know-and more than some people could handle. And I don't say that to be dramatic. I say it because this blog isn't for people who expect me to be quiet about it.

It's for the ones who get it
The real ones.
The fighters
The late-night criers
The get-up-anyway crew.
The ones rebuilding themselves in the dark
The ones who've had to explain themselves too many times.
The ones who learned how to walk through hell with lipstick on and a one-liner ready.
The ones who are done playing nice to make others comfortable.
The ones who know chaos isn't weakness-it's fuel.

Why I Am Loud

Because being quiet didn't protect me.

Because silence let people rewrite my story, minimize my pain, and dismiss my worth. Because I've been the girl in the corner biting her tongue and blaming herself for someone else's behavior.

Now? I bite back.

I'm loud because I have something to say. I'm loud because too many of us are taught to smile through trauma and shrink our fire so we don't scare, intimidate, or offend anyone. I'm loud because I spent years being told to calm down when I was already drowning. I'm loud because surviving should never look like silence.

My volume is my protest. My laughter is my rebellion. My rage is earned.
And if you think any of that makes me less of a woman, you're not my audience.

What This Blog Isn't Sorry For

It's not sorry for being messy.
It's not sorry for the typos that might slip in while coding this all from scratch while recovering from having a rib removed 4 days ago.
It's not sorry for the dark jokes, the overshares, the "I can't believe you posted that" moments.
It's not sorry for being emotional or intense or contradictory.

It's not sorry for choosing healing over perfection.

This blog is a war cry for the ones who feel like too much. The ones who've been told to tone it down, be less dramatic, stop caring so deeply, stop burning so brightly.

We don't shrink here.
We expand.
We erupt
We unleash.

What You Can Expect

Honesty.
Chaos.
Uncensored reflections from the front lines of pain, growth, leadership, heartbreak, humor, and healing.

Sometimes I'll make you laugh. Sometimes I'll piss you off. Sometimes I'll show you pieces of myself I haven't even fully accepted yet. But I will always show up real.

There will be posts about the body-how it breaks, how it heals, how it demands attention.
There will be posts about the mind-neurodivergence, mental health, emotional regulation, and spicy brain chaos.
There will be stories-funny ones, raw ones, stories that start with trauma and end with glitter.
There will be power-and proof that even when the world hands you ashes, you can still set the sky on fire.

Final Word

If you're still reading this, maybe you've been caged too.
By expectations.
By pain.
By shame.
By the people who couldn't handle your volume, your fire, your light, or your vulnerability.

Because when I say "Lexy Unleashed," I don't just mean me.
I mean anyone who's done hiding.
Anyone who's done apologizing.
Anyone who's ready to own their story before someone else tries to write or edit it.

So welcome to the chaos.
Welcome to the fire.
Welcome to the fight.

I'm Lexy.
Built from grit
Driven by pain.
Fueled by spite, caffeine, and a thousand second chances.
And I'm not here to be quiet.