Breaking Generational Chains

I look back on the girls and women I’ve known, and the difference is clear. Those with parents who were intentional and loving —who made them feel welcome, safe, supported, and protected, like they were beautiful and had what it takes—grew up knowing their worth. They had access to community, activities, rituals, traditions, and celebrations that allowed them to feel expressed, connected, and called in—not called out. And with that indoctrination, they readily built and chose friendships and relationships with people who loved them in nourishing, celebratory, and supportive ways- in which they continued to be who they were, not chastised or demeaned for it.

They weren’t asked to play small, stay quiet, or deny their needs, desires, or preferences. They weren’t made to feel like too much or an inconvenience. Instead, they learned how to show up in love, carrying healthy beliefs about what they deserved, what they could count on, and what they had to give in return.

I’m doing the work to heal. To unlearn the unhealthy core beliefs I was given. To rise from the brokenness, the shame, the lostness that was instilled in me like canon—decades of being taught by my own family to believe that I am a menace, a burden, worthless, incapable and unworthy of love, connection, satisfaction, joy.

But – No matter what sort of person I think I am, or they think I am. I have raised two boys who aren’t as sad, broken, or afraid as I have always been. And I take credit for that. I am the kind of person who broke generational curses.  Maybe I didn’t directly model security and self-worth I  did not have, but I quite intentionally didn’t snatch it from them, either.

The Art of Being Disposable

I had never been in a relationship with someone who both spoiled and protected me—who would fight for me, stand by my side, no matter what. Not my parents. Not my marriage. I have been “loved,” but never by someone whose presence felt unwavering and unquestionable—someone whose commitment was to stand with me without prompting, without condition.

Until him.

He loved me fiercely and generously, or so it seemed. He spoke the most magnificent promise:

“I love you. I would do anything for you under any circumstance.”

I clung to those words like an anchor—something I had waited my whole life to experience.

And then, suddenly, it was no longer true. Because he decided so.

Now, I am left with the hollow ache of unworthiness.

I am easy to let go of. Easy to discard, betray, abandon. Sometimes, I wonder if I was made for it—programmed to be left behind. Even my children, in ways that cut the deepest, have been nudged away from me, as if the universe—their father, my family—is working to erase me from their story.

And here I am, clinging to what remains of this relationship. Feeling loved much of the time. Unraveling in doubt and fear in the hours or days between texts and time together—willingly serving as a placeholder while he searches for someone more useful, suitable, worthy.

But I am working hard—in therapy, in healing, in choosing myself.

To not throw myself away.

Breaking the Cycle: A Miracle in Parenting

There are moments in parenting that bring me a deep sense of grief, moments when I know I’m falling short. I think about my boys, the love I have for them, and the ways I wish I could be more present for them—whether it’s something as simple as going out to eat together, attending athletic events, or taking a family vacation. These little things, which many people take for granted, have felt out of reach.

It’s hard to admit, but there have been times I’ve told them, “The best I can do is not to harm you. I may not always be able to provide what you need, but I promise I won’t betray or abandon you. I’m here to tell the truth, to protect you, and to make the best choices for you, even when I don’t always have the answers.” That’s the best I can offer. I wish I could do more. 

What really gets me, though, is that, in my heart, I know it’s a miracle that I’m even able to say this. When I think about the way I was raised—when I think about the abuse(harshness, lack of kindness, compassion, nurturing, and safety) I endured—it’s nothing short of a miracle that I have not passed that same pain and dysfunction onto my boys. I did not parent them the way I was parented. I did not abuse them the way I was abused. I did not make them feel the way I was made to feel, yes made. And sometimes, I want to shout it from the rooftops: I broke the cycle!

But then they’ll say something like, “You don’t get an award for not abusing us,” and they’re right. I understand that. Parenting is about so much more than just not being harmful. But to me, it is a miracle. It is a sign of strength and healing that I didn’t repeat the same mistakes, the same hurt.

And maybe, one day, they’ll understand that the love I give them, the way I show up, even in the smallest ways, is a testament to how hard I fought to be different, to give them a better life.

Maybe there is technically no award for it, but the miracle is there, quietly present in every choice I make which is rooted in my recovery. It’s in the love which doesn’t repeat old patterns. And to me, that could be worth celebrating, or at the very least acknowledging. 

I am aware that the pain I carry which frequently gets on them in a moment of struggle has been hard on them. But that is not a choice I made. It is the result.  The fallout. From decades of being degraded.  Cast out.  Persecuted.  Misunderstood.

Valentine’s Day: WTF

I didn’t expect to hear from my ex-husband on Valentine’s Day, especially after years of no contact. When his call came through, I assumed it was urgent—something about our sons. Given our history, I expected it to be disturbing, so I let him know I was on my way into a medical procedure and wouldn’t be able to talk until after the weekend.

When Monday came around, I texted, explaining I was managing chronic pain and that it would be easier to communicate by email or text. Imagine my surprise when he just wanted to tell me he was getting married.

I’m confused. Why tell me by phone, more than a month after getting engaged? Why Valentine’s Day? It is an odd choice, and not a coincidence, for someone who’s pretty calculating. I can’t know the reason behind his timing. Sometimes, people’s actions leave you questioning intent. I guess it falls right in line with his fiance’s need to message me in Pinterest for reasons I also could not make sense of. Sheesh. Why you so obseesed with me? lol

God please help me set aside everything I think I know about myself, love, connection, and especially You: for an open mind and a new experience with myself, love, connection, and especially You.

Between Invisible & Seen: Finding True Belonging

I am seeking healing in the form of a way to channel all of this old information and energy out of me, so that it doesn’t continue backfiring, making me sicker, sadder, and more afraid.

What I long for is a sense of being included, of being called in- to my own life, a community and family. And also to become sovereign – to belong to and take ownership over myself and achieve wholeness and wellness.

In both my family of origin and my marriage, I felt, at once, invisible and like a spectacle. My needs of no significance and simultaneously outrageous and responsible for all things bad.

Within each of those systems, I experienced was feeling simultaneously confined and unmoored—never held, never free. Lost.



When hunger has ravaged you, you’ll consume glass, whisper thanks, and await the next hunger’s call with trembling heart.

Starved

When hunger has ravaged you,

you’ll consume glass,

whisper thanks,

and await the next hunger’s call with trembling heart.

YOur work is not to change who you are. You are not too much.

Love & Self-Worth: The Legacy of Our Caregivers

I’ve come to realize that the way we experience love—and how we later give and receive it—is often rooted in the care we were shown as children. Our caregivers, the ones who were tasked with nurturing and protecting us, taught us how to care for ourselves, others, and our emotions. And I believe that this foundation not only shapes how we see ourselves but also impacts the kind of relationships we form as adults.

My sister and I are a good example of how different upbringings, even within the same family, can lead to very different paths. She learned how to care for herself. She was taught to prioritize her needs, to expect and give respect, and to step into the world with a beleif that she deserved to be there and to have what she needed. It makes sense that, as an adult, she was drawn to a partner who is caring, protective, and values her feelings and well-being.

I, on the other hand, did not learn how to care for myself. I was not shown how to prioritize my own needs or to express my feelings in a safe and healthy way. I grew up believing that I was too much, that my emotions were burdensome, and that my needs were something to be minimized or hidden. It’s no surprise, then, that when I ventured into the world and entered into a relationship, I found myself with someone who was dismissive of my emotions. Someone who was annoyed by my needs, who preferred that I keep them to myself, and who showed no real consideration for my feelings.

It’s not a coincidence that my sister found a partner who cherishes her, while I ended up with someone who couldn’t care less. The way we were cared for as children—how love was shown to us—shaped our adult relationships. Love, in all its forms, was modeled to us, and we internalized that blueprint.

It’s taken time to understand how I was shaped by my past experiences. But what I’ve realized is that we can change the way we love ourselves. We can unlearn the beliefs that were instilled in us. It’s never too late to rewrite our story of love, to find ways to care for ourselves the way we should have been cared for, and to seek relationships that reflect that same care.

I believe that everyone deserves to be loved in a way that’s nurturing, respectful, and considerate. And as we continue to grow, we have the power to give that love to ourselves and the people we choose to invite into our lives.

Purpose, Belonging, Direction

I read a quote today which has me weeping. I’m weeping all the time anyway just about over every single song and everything reminding me of all the love I have missed, all the love that was not recieved or welcome, all the love I failed to feel or effectively communicate, all the love I wished I knew. The love for my sons which has beeen fierce, loyal, protective and still not enough to keep them close to me. While loving me may not be easy, it will also be a wildly unpopular choice for them to make in the midst of their “family”.

The quote says this:  I must lose myself in action lest I wither in despair. I am painfully (always the pain) aware of my hunger for a meaningful pursuit and direction and in pursuit and direction, I may find a sense of belonging and connection and purpose to help me sew together the hours each day between the things which must be done. In those times between the things I’m required to do. I feel lost and distraught and I lie down … run down the clock of my life because I don’t know what else to do. This is a difficult way to exist -it’s humiliating and demoralizing to feel lost untethered all of the time.  Still, as I have my entire life. I have wasted my life trying to become or at least appear different, to be not me, so that maybe just maybe I could be worthy of connection and belonging. It was a requirement I could not meet. It destroyed me, like literally decimated my ability to self actualize.

In these last five months of more than a hundred medical visits and medication’s – being physically and mentally disabled – feeling both adrenalized and paralyzed simultaneously- around the clock.  I have wanted to be dead. It’s all I’ve wanted – to get gone. Because I don’t have a purpose – I don’t have a plan. I don’t have a direction and I certainly don’t have anything or anyone to which I feel I belong. I did used to belong to a gym and my job and now, not even those. And for some months, I felt I belonged to and with him.

Hearing these songs today felt crushing – The Goodness of God by CeCe Winans and LeAnn Rimes – How do I and Leann Rimes- I Need You and then another song called Fighting For Me, by Riley Clemons.

Each of these songs –  about durable, and undeniable love; to count on and fall into, lean into, crash into – I’ve not had that – not from my mother or my father or sister, any member of my family,  certainly not from the man I married. And I feel like I experience this love now -but it is a lie. I have a relationship and I like to call it complicated but actually it’s not complicated. He once claimed to desire a future with me and now he does not.  

He is my everything. He has loved me more and better than anybody has ever loved me. He listens, he hears, he comforts, he celebrates, he cheers me. He holds and shelters me. And I can’t imagine living without this. But at the same time, I’ve lived my whole life without it. I need him in ways which are unreasonable- or are they? He’s a best friend, he is family, he is my lover. He is my everything, but it is no longer mutual and I continue to hold on tight and he continues to let me. 

I am working with therapistS and trying to resolve/reconcile my reality – the pain and the grief of this, and all of the trauma which launched me into this exact space that I am in.  I am working hard to heal my body, my mind, my spirit.

How could I have possibly learned the things about myself- like what I like or what I’m good at or what would satisfy, nurture and fuel me? I must dig out that information – excavate it from beneath decades of trauma, betrayal, abandonment, the grief of never having been well loved, and taking that quite personally.  And the lie of believing I was unworthy and incapable. And now, I have this one person whom I love desperately (of course) and rely on – as my everything and I can’t fault him for not wanting me or this forever.  I also do not want me or this forever.  Who would? I have a lot to recover from. Why must Earth life be so difficult? THIS, according to my therapeutic team is tied to my negative core beliefs. I see how that could be.

What a cycle. When people in my life collectively decided I’m “bad,” interpreting my struggles as evidence of my wrongness, they see inflicting more hardship as a natural consequence—reflective only of their own ego-driven need to punish, rather than insecurity or retaliation. This fkn cycle, where I am scapegoated – trapped in a constant state of hurt and disempowerment. Feling affirmed in that each difficult and painful thing is proof only of my badness.

Just Shut Up

The messages from my family of origin were unmistakable: “We will not show empathy or understanding for your perspective. In response to what we perceive as distortions, we will only offer defense, attack, blame, and relentless conflict.”

All I ever wanted to hear was: “Even if I can’t fix your grief or stress, I will bear it with you. Please, tell me more.”

Instead, I encountered harsh objections to my requests for shared language/understanding, shattering any hope for healing or a path forward.

Curiosity—rooted in courage, humility, and vulnerability—allows us to engage respectfully with perspectives that differ from our own. Curiosity is a choice to explore the unknown. We cannot be both right and curious at the same time. It is painful that so many prioritize appearing (feeling) infallible and in charge at all costs. A shame that this can be mistaken for strength. A need to appear strong feels symptomatic of fragility.

The strength which impresses me is rooted in humility, curiosity, courage.

I’m not angry. I’m overwhelmed.

It’s painful to recall being scolded in shaming ways during overwhelming moments: “Why are you so angry? Why are you so defensive? Why are you yelling?” I percieved but could not name the dissonance, the lack of understanding and interest in what I was going through and how I was reacting. Being diminished instead of receiving support, made me feel threatened/ angry and led to anxiety about my discomfort and the consequences. My inability to alter my instinctive reactions intensified my sense of hopelessness. The persistent dread of not being able to hide my sensitivity only added pressure to the demand to “lighten up” and “calm down”, as everyone insisted I should. My consistent experience within my family and marriage would unfold in this way: Feel overstimulated, be judged and shunned, become fearful, distressed, then angry(and ultimately be crucified for large reactions to unmanageable stress)

My unique wiring (hypersensitivity/hyperarousal) and past trauma leave me vulnerable and fragile in ways that others may not grasp. I often experience shame and anxiety over my unremitting discomfort- or as it was frequently referenced “my thin skin”, which is not an inaccurate descriptor, but also was not said with love.

The stress of otherwise uneventful happenings can overpower my nervous system- like things which others don’t notice, can be crippling to me. Having come from a family whom regularly minimized and belittled me, feeling disregarded, violated, and on edge—became my default state. As a now sensory smart and trauma informed adult, I do not expect others to accommodate my heightened sensitivity- my best option has been to isolate myself – to shield my nervous system from the stressors of life on earth (with others).

Below are examples of how I am easily toppled by technically un-threatening sensory stimuli, which go un-noticed by most(or can be ignored):

The sound of my dog licking, a light on in the hall which shines into my room, a repetitive sound, a wrinkle in my (made) bed that I can see from my desk when I am working. A tag in my shirt.  A strong smell.  Feeling too warm.  A piece of food caught between my teeth.  Each of these can send me immediately into dysregulation—fight or flight energy. My nervous system demands that I do anything to make it stop- to end the sensation.

None of these stimuli are harmful; they overtake me rather than harm or even annoy me. Sensory overload, paired with emotionally charged interactions, crushes me and calls for days of self-care, in solitude, to process, release the energy, and regain basic functionality.

I am now learning to manage in a world which is simply too much for me. Always has been. I am discovering ways to nurture, soothe, and safeguard myself.

Some may find this enlightening, even interesting:
Sensory defensiveness is a condition where someone has an extreme reaction to certain sensations, such as touch, sound, smell, or taste. People with sensory defensiveness may avoid or minimize exposure to these sensations, and may experience anxiety, behavioral changes, or emotional distress. Having to rely on or keep close proximity to those who will judge and punish has proven damaging 100% of the time.