Sometimes on the journey things get heavy, and when they did, I would turn on voice to text and just “talk” into my notes section of my phone, not just to document the thoughts so I would remember it later, but because when I said it out loud, not only did I feel like it was real, but I felt like people were hearing me and finally understood where I came from, what I was going through, this letter was one of those times.
I feel like I finally hit a part of healing that I’ve run from my whole life.
Not because I didn’t know it…
But because I was afraid of what would happen if I said it out loud.
But healing isn’t pretending.
Healing is honesty.
And the moment you choose honesty, you find out who can handle it—and who can’t.
This is for the parents going through divorce or separation:
I see you.
I hear you.
But please remember—your kids are living through this too.
You can’t pour from an empty cup, but you also can’t forget the children who still need a safe place to land.
Because the way you show up now becomes the emotional blueprint they carry for the rest of their lives.
I was in ninth grade when my parents split.
I’m 52 now—and it wasn’t the divorce that shaped me.
It was the fact that no one made sure the kids were okay.
My whole life became a search for “home.”
For safety.
For stability.
For a place that wouldn’t be ripped away the second I got comfortable.
People say “kids are resilient.”
And yes—kids can jump off swings, scrape their knees, and bounce right back.
But what kids can’t bounce back from
is being ignored by the people they need the most.
When a parent is drowning, a child still needs somewhere safe to breathe.
I didn’t get that.
My home was unstable.
I acted out—not to be a brat—but because I needed attention, structure, someone to notice I was hurting.
Instead, I was labeled:
The problem.
The rebellious one.
The one who “knew better.”
The one sent to juvenile hall where even the adults in charge had no empathy.
Nobody asked what I needed.
They just wanted me to behave.
What society calls “bad kids” are often just abandoned kids.
Kids who had to raise themselves emotionally while their parents were drowning in their own pain.
I grew up thinking I was the problem.
And that belief followed me into adulthood.
Right into a narcissistic relationship where I once again tried to love someone into healing—only to lose myself in the process.
You can’t love the trauma out of someone who won’t face their own darkness.
You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
And I learned that the hard way.
But even through the darkest years, I made sure my daughter had a home.
A safe place.
A childhood I never had.
And even though she ended up in a dangerous, abusive relationship, she survived it.
She’s healing.
She’s strong.
And she learned—just like I did—that staying close to family doesn’t always mean staying safe.
Some wounds you can forgive, but you can’t go back to.
Now, she and I are building a life where we are safe…
Where we are loved…
Where we are finally home.
So if you’re “the rebellious one,” the “problem child,” the one everyone points at instead of listening to—
You’re not the problem.
You were the one left alone to survive things you should never have had to face.
And if you’re someone who blames your kids because you’re hurting…
Please sit with God.
Please look within.
Please break the cycle.
Because kids don’t need perfection.
They need protection.
They need presence.
They need to be seen.
And they never forget the moments they needed you—and you weren’t there.
shared from lived experience, not expert advice
The Honest Healing Journey with Kristi 