While I was teaching a literacy class inside the male prison in the Cayman Islands one of the men asked to speak. His voice was steady, but his words carried the weight of a story that had waited a long time to be heard. He did not begin with crime. He began with childhood.

As a boy, he often went to school hungry. Some mornings there was nothing to eat. Many days his uniform was dirty because no one had washed it. His mother was overwhelmed, caring for several other children and trying to survive. No one explained neglect to him. He only knew that he felt invisible.

Teachers noticed that he struggled. He could not sit still. He fell behind. He was restless and distracted. No one asked what was happening at home. Instead, he was moved from place to place, always described as a problem rather than a child in need.

From there, the path narrowed quickly. Youth detention followed. Then prison.

Sitting in front of me as an adult, he shared something quietly shocking. He could not read properly. Sounds did not connect to letters. Words felt confusing. No one had noticed. Not in school. Not in the programs meant to help him. Not in detention.

It was only in prison, during a literacy class, that his difficulty finally had a name.

“I was crying for attention,” he said, “but nobody heard it.”

Emotional Neglect Leaves No Visible Wounds

Emotional neglect is one of the most misunderstood forms of harm. It does not leave bruises. It does not announce itself loudly. It appears through absence, through needs that go unanswered, feelings that are not mirrored, and distress that is managed rather than understood.

Children who........

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