Before I Share My Story, There’s Something You Need to Understand About Healing

Why trauma and healing are often misunderstood — and why context matters

Before I share my story — before I connect memories to memories, patterns to patterns, and healing to truth — there’s something important I need to say.

Because I see a lot of people trying to heal…

and blaming themselves when it doesn’t work.

They followed the advice.

They watched the videos.

They repeated the affirmations.

They set the boundaries.

They tried to “let go,” “move on,” and “be empowered.”

And yet, they still feel stuck.

If that’s you, I want you to hear this clearly:

You didn’t fail healing.

You were given incomplete information.

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The Problem Isn’t Healing Content — It’s Missing Context

We live in a time where trauma, healing, boundaries, tough love, and cycle-breaking are talked about everywhere. And awareness is a good thing.

But there’s a growing problem:

Words are being used without depth.

Truth is being delivered without timing.

Advice is being given without context.

And when that happens, healing language — even when it’s technically correct — can confuse, shame, or overwhelm people who are still in survival mode.

The issue isn’t that people are talking about healing.

The issue is that healing is layered, and most content skips that part.

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When Truth Is Given at the Wrong Time, It Can Harm Instead of Heal

Here’s something I learned the hard way:

Not all truth heals at the same stage.

Advice that empowers someone who is regulated can deeply wound someone who is dysregulated.

Language meant for accountability can sound like blame to someone still carrying shame.

“Take responsibility” can feel crushing to someone who is just learning they weren’t the problem.

“Set boundaries” can feel terrifying to someone whose nervous system learned survival through connection.

This doesn’t make the advice wrong.

It means it was applied at the wrong layer.

And that distinction matters more than most people realize.

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Why So Many People Feel Like Healing Isn’t Working

Many people believe healing should look like:

• clarity without confusion

• strength without grief

• boundaries without fear

• growth without loss

But real healing often looks like:

• shaking hands

• tight chests

• memories resurfacing

• grief alongside relief

• distance from people you once tried desperately to please

This is why oversimplified healing content can be harmful.

It teaches people what to do without explaining when or why.

It skips nervous system safety.

It ignores timing.

It flattens complexity into slogans.

And when people can’t live up to that version of healing, they assume something is wrong with them.

There isn’t.

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Trauma, Tough Love, and Boundaries Are Not One-Size-Fits-All

This is where misunderstanding causes the most damage.

Trauma is not everyday stress.

Tough love is not abandonment.

Boundaries are not punishment.

Cycle-breaking is not cutting everyone off.

Some children leave home because they didn’t feel safe.

Some leave because they were trying to escape something outside the home.

Some parents did real harm.

Some parents did the best they could with what they had.

Both realities exist.

Healing requires nuance — not sides.

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Why I’m Writing This Before Sharing My Story

I’m not writing this to call anyone out.

I’m writing it to call us in.

Because before I share how I healed — before I connect the dots between my childhood, my parenting, my patterns, and my daughter’s journey — you need this framework.

Without it, stories get misread.

Pain gets minimized.

Growth gets misunderstood.

My healing didn’t come from doing more.

It came from understanding when certain truths finally landed — and why they couldn’t before.

And that’s what I want for you too.

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If You Feel Confused, You’re Not Behind

If you’ve tried healing and felt lost…

If you’ve followed advice that didn’t fit…

If you’ve wondered why some “truths” hurt instead of helped…

That doesn’t mean you’re broken.

It means you were ready for healing — but healing wasn’t ready for you yet.

And that’s not failure.

That’s timing.

In the next post, I’ll share why healing didn’t begin for me with empowerment or boundaries — but with understanding why advice couldn’t land until safety came first.

Sharing from lived experience, not professional advice 

Note from the author

There comes a moment in healing when you realize you’re no longer tending to the wounds of your inner child —

you’re standing as the woman she grew into.

For a long time, speaking the truth felt like survival.

Silence felt dangerous.

Not because I was hiding anything — but because I was taught that truth must always be spoken or it would be lost.

What I understand now is this:

Truth does not disappear when it is held with discernment.

And silence is not the same as lying.

Healthy boundaries didn’t take my voice away.

They gave it choice.

This realization marked a turning point for me — not a step backward into childhood, but a step forward into adulthood. Into wisdom. Into steadiness. Into trust.

I don’t resent the years I spent healing my inner child.

In many ways, I was given the honor of keeping my childhood a little longer than others.

And I needed every bit of that time.

But today, the why no longer matters to me.

What matters is who I am becoming —

a woman grounded in truth, guided by discernment, and aligned with the person God always intended me to be.

This chapter is not about revisiting the past.

It’s about standing fully present in the woman I am now.

Shared from lived experience, not professional advice.

What People Pleasing Really Is: A Trauma Response Born in a Childhood That Never Felt Safe

Intro:

People often misunderstand people-pleasing. They think it means you’re “too nice” or “too giving.” But people-pleasing is not a personality trait—it’s a survival strategy learned in childhood when your emotional needs were ignored, mocked, dismissed, or punished.

A child who grows up unseen and unheard does not learn resilience; they learn adaptation. They learn silence. They learn to put everyone else first because it’s the only way they ever felt a hint of peace.

This is a story of what happens inside the developing brain when trauma, chaos, and emotional neglect shape who you become…

and what it looks like to break that cycle as an adult—

for yourself, and for the next generation.

What does it really mean when someone says, “I’m a people pleaser because of trauma”?

It means this:

When a child grows up unseen, unheard, or emotionally neglected, their nervous system starts learning one thing very early:

“My needs are unsafe.

My emotions are inconvenient.

I have to make myself small to survive.”

When every attempt to ask for help is met with anger, dismissal, or chaos—

• skinned knees that didn’t get comfort

• midnight screaming over a bedroom

• a family grieving but not talking

• overhearing hurtful adult conversations about you

• watching parents fall apart while you suffer silently

…a child doesn’t “bounce back.”

They adapt.

They learn to read the room.

They learn to anticipate the moods of everyone around them.

They learn that love must be earned, not received.

They learn that safety comes from keeping others happy—

because no one taught them how to keep themselves safe.

And even though people love to say,

“Kids are resilient,”

they leave out one truth:

Kids are only resilient with healthy guidance.

Without it, they don’t “bounce back.”

They break differently.

And I know this, because I was that child.

I grew up in a home full of instability, emotional chaos, and generational patterns no one talked about. I watched everyone around me spiral, argue, rage, or numb themselves—and somehow I was expected to just “figure it out.”

So I did.

I raised myself emotionally.

I survived using the tools my unhealed parents taught me—

and the ones my soul whispered to me when nothing else felt right.

And then I grew up and unconsciously repeated it in a narcissistic marriage…

and I over-protected my daughter because I refused to let her feel what I felt—

even before I knew the name for what I had lived.

I made mistakes.

I overreacted at times.

I sacrificed myself until I couldn’t breathe.

But I loved her fiercely, and we survived together.

And now, healing has shown me the truth:

I wasn’t born a people pleaser.

I was conditioned into one.

I became what I needed to be in order to survive.

And when I finally hit rock bottom…the same God I screamed at, questioned, doubted, begged…

is the one who lifted me up, piece by piece, memory by memory.

Healing means unlearning the unhealthy traits I inherited.

Healing means seeing the patterns clearly.

Healing means choosing not to carry them forward.

Healing means saying, finally:

“It stops with me.”

That’s what people don’t understand.

And that’s why I share this.

Not for pity…

For clarity.

A New Year’s Wish: Finding Your Way Back Home to Yourself

The beginning of a new year often comes with pressure.

Pressure to improve.

To fix.

To become someone “better.”

But if you’re entering this year feeling off—tired, disconnected, or quietly overwhelmed—this isn’t a failure.

It’s a signal.

My New Year’s wish for you isn’t that you push harder or heal faster.

It’s that this becomes the year you begin finding your way back home to yourself.

When Something Doesn’t Feel Right, It Isn’t You

We are often taught to question ourselves when something feels wrong.

Why can’t I handle this?

Why does this feel so hard?

Why does everyone else seem okay with it?

But anxiety, tightness in your chest, restlessness, or the urge to escape aren’t personality flaws. They are your nervous system trying to protect you.

If something in your life brings constant unease instead of peace, that doesn’t mean you’re weak or dramatic. It means your body remembers what your mind may have learned to ignore in order to survive.

Listening to that discomfort isn’t quitting.

It’s awareness.

Survival Mode Isn’t Living

Many people don’t realize they’re in survival mode until they finally step out of it.

In survival mode, rest feels unsafe.

Calm feels unfamiliar.

Stillness feels like something is about to go wrong.

You might feel like you’re always bracing—waiting for the next problem, the next conflict, the next shoe to drop.

If that’s you, I want you to hear this clearly:

You are not broken.

You are not behind.

You are not failing at life.

You’ve simply been surviving for a long time.

Healing doesn’t begin by forcing positivity or ignoring pain. It begins by creating enough safety to finally listen to yourself.

Alignment Brings Peace, Not Confusion

Peace isn’t something we earn by suffering long enough.

It’s something we experience when our lives align with who we truly are.

When you’re aligned, decisions feel steadier.

Boundaries feel clearer.

Your body softens instead of braces.

That doesn’t mean life becomes easy. It means life becomes honest.

This year, my wish is that you stop forcing yourself into spaces, roles, and expectations that drain you—just to prove you can endure them.

Endurance is not the same as purpose.

Coming Home to Yourself

Coming home to yourself doesn’t mean reinventing your life overnight.

It looks like:

• Trusting the quiet nudges instead of the loud opinions

• Choosing rest without guilt

• Letting go of what no longer fits, even if it once did

• Allowing yourself to change without explaining why

You didn’t lose yourself along the way.

You adapted in order to survive.

And now, if you’re ready, you get to return.

A Gentle New Year’s Wish

If you’re starting this year feeling off, I hope you don’t rush to fix yourself.

I hope you listen instead.

May this be the year you stop abandoning your needs to keep peace.

May this be the year you choose what feels safe, steady, and true.

May this be the year you learn that peace doesn’t come from forcing—it comes from alignment.

And most of all, may this be the year you realize:

You’re not lost.

You’re just on your way back home.

Sharing from lived experience, not professional advice

When Your Life Is Built on Beliefs That Aren’t Yours

For a long time, I didn’t realize that not all beliefs are self-generated.

Some are inherited.

Some are absorbed.

Some are taught so early and so consistently that we never question where they came from — we just assume they’re truth.

We’re told how life is supposed to look.

How work should feel.

What success means.

What staying strong looks like.

What leaving means.

What endurance proves.

And because these beliefs often come from parents, caregivers, or authority figures, we don’t experience them as opinions.

We experience them as rules.

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When Beliefs Are Passed Down Without Question

Many generational beliefs were created for survival — not alignment.

Work harder.

Stay longer.

Don’t complain.

Make money.

Push through.

Sacrifice peace for stability.

At one point in time, those beliefs may have kept people afloat.

But survival beliefs don’t always translate into healthy living — especially in a world that has changed.

The problem isn’t that these beliefs exist.

The problem is when they’re forced forward without reflection, without consideration for the individual, and without space for choice.

When beliefs are enforced instead of explored, they stop being guidance — and become control.

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What Happens When You Mix Their Beliefs With Your Own

This is where things get confusing.

When you start healing, you don’t immediately shed old beliefs.

You test new ones.

You mix them in.

You try to make everything coexist.

And suddenly, you don’t know what’s yours anymore.

You feel pulled in different directions.

Your gut says one thing.

Your conditioning says another.

Your nervous system stays stuck in conflict.

You might start to feel:

• anxious without knowing why

• depressed without a clear cause

• disconnected from yourself

• like you don’t belong anywhere

• like you’re doing everything “right” but still feel wrong

That confusion doesn’t mean you’re broken.

It means your soul is living under rules it didn’t choose.

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The Emotional Cost of Misalignment

Living out of alignment with your soul doesn’t always show up dramatically.

Sometimes it shows up quietly:

• chronic self-doubt

• guilt for choosing peace

• second-guessing decisions that felt right

• staying in situations that drain you because “that’s what adults do”

When you’re constantly overriding your intuition to meet someone else’s expectations, your body keeps the score.

Anxiety is often your system saying, this isn’t safe for me anymore.

Depression can be your system saying, I don’t recognize this life.

This isn’t weakness.

It’s wisdom trying to get your attention.

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Ego vs. Healing

Here’s the difference I’ve come to understand:

Ego forces beliefs outward.

It says:

• “This is how it’s done.”

• “Just stick it out.”

• “Everyone has to sacrifice.”

• “I’m just telling you what’s best.”

Ego needs certainty.

It needs control.

It needs sameness to feel safe.

Healing, on the other hand, turns inward.

Healing asks:

• What brings me peace?

• What feels honest in my body?

• What aligns with my soul — even if it looks different?

Healing doesn’t need everyone to agree.

It doesn’t need approval.

It doesn’t need to be loud.

Healing listens.

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Coming Home to Yourself

At some point in healing, something shifts.

You stop asking:

Is this right according to them?

And you start asking:

Is this right for me?

You begin to trust your gut again.

Your heart starts aligning with your soul.

And peace becomes your compass.

Not performative peace.

Not “I should be grateful” peace.

But real, grounded, nervous-system-level peace.

Whatever brings you that peace —

that belongs to you.

You don’t need to defend it.

You don’t need to explain it.

You don’t need permission.

You are allowed to own it.

And you are allowed to love it.

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Closing Reflection

Breaking away from inherited beliefs doesn’t mean rejecting the people who passed them down.

It means choosing not to live a life that costs you yourself.

And that choice —

that awareness —

is healing.

Shared from lived experience, not professional advice.

Part 2: How to Know What Layer You’re In (Before You Apply the Lesson)

Why misidentifying your layer keeps you stuck—even when you’re doing everything “right”

If Part 1 resonated, this part answers the next question most people ask—sometimes without realizing it:

“Okay… but how do I know where I actually am?”

This matters more than most people understand.

Because when you misidentify your layer, you don’t just feel confused—you often end up blaming yourself for not being able to live out truths that were never meant for this stage of healing.

Healing Isn’t a Line—It’s Layers

Healing doesn’t move forward like a checklist.

It moves more like layers of an onion:

You don’t skip layers. You don’t heal them out of order. And you can’t force yourself into the next one just because you want peace badly enough.

Each layer has its own needs.

Each layer responds to truth differently.

And applying the right lesson to the wrong layer can stall you instead of help you.

The Three Layers Most People Cycle Through

This isn’t a diagnosis.

It’s a reference point—so you can stop guessing.

Layer 1: Survival Mode

This is where many people start.

In this layer:

Your body is alert before your mind catches up Everything feels personal, urgent, or threatening You’re reacting more than reflecting Advice feels overwhelming or dismissive You hear truth as pressure

This is where phrases like:

“Just let it go” “Other people’s opinions don’t matter” “Choose peace”

can feel impossible—or even cruel.

Not because you’re resisting growth,

but because your nervous system is still protecting you.

Layer 2: Becoming Healthy

This is the transition layer—and often the hardest.

In this layer:

You start pausing instead of reacting immediately You notice patterns instead of just pain You can reflect after the fact (not always in the moment) You feel both relief and grief You question what you were taught

This is where confusion often spikes.

You’ll think:

“I see it now—but why can’t I stop it yet?” “Why do I understand this but still feel triggered?” “Why do I feel worse before I feel better?”

Because insight comes before integration.

And that gap is uncomfortable—but normal.

Layer 3: Living in Integrity

This isn’t perfection.

It’s alignment.

In this layer:

You can choose instead of react You can apologize without collapsing You can hear feedback without losing yourself You trust yourself more than external approval Peace feels steady—not forced

Truth here doesn’t feel sharp.

It feels grounding.

Not because life is easy—

but because you’re no longer fighting yourself.

Why So Many People Get Stuck

Most people don’t struggle because they lack information.

They struggle because:

They’re using Layer 3 advice in Layer 1 pain Or they’re shaming themselves for not being “there yet” Or they’re forcing a mindset their body can’t sustain

That’s not failure.

That’s misplacement.

A Simple Layer Check (Use This Anytime)

Before you apply any quote, advice, or belief—ask yourself:

Does this make me feel safer—or smaller? Does this invite choice—or demand performance? Does this bring clarity—or urgency?

If it creates urgency, shame, or pressure:

Pause.

It might be true—but not for this layer.

Why Stories Matter More Than Quotes Alone

This is why I pair quotes with stories.

Because stories show:

When a lesson made sense Why it didn’t before How it actually integrated

Without that context, people end up trying to heal by imitation instead of alignment.

And healing doesn’t work that way.

Where We’re Going Next

In Part 3, I’ll share one of the earliest moments where my nervous system learned that image mattered more than truth—and how that single lesson echoed through decades of my life.

Not to place blame.

But to show how patterns start—and why compassion matters when untangling them.

If you’ve ever wondered “Why do I know better but still react this way?”

That’s where we’re going next.

Shared from lived experience , not professional advice.

Part 1: When Truth Is Placed in the Wrong Layer

There is something I’ve learned on this healing journey that doesn’t get talked about enough:

Truth can be real and still cause harm—if it’s applied at the wrong time, in the wrong place, or to the wrong part of a person.

This is why so many well-meaning quotes, advice posts, and “just think positive” messages feel confusing, frustrating, or even damaging when you’re still in survival mode. Not because the message is wrong—but because it doesn’t belong where you’re trying to place it yet.

Healing isn’t about collecting truths.

It’s about learning where they belong.

The Problem With “Good Advice”

When you’re hurting, you want relief. You want movement. You want something—anything—that promises peace.

So you read the quote.

You save the post.

You tell yourself, This is it. This one is going to fix it.

And when it doesn’t work, you don’t question the advice.

You question yourself.

You assume:

You’re not trying hard enough You’re doing healing “wrong” Everyone else gets it but you

But here’s what I know now:

Some truths don’t help until your nervous system can hold them.

Trying to apply a higher-level truth too early doesn’t make you stronger.

It often makes you feel more broken.

The Wrong Manual, the Wrong Plane

This is the best way I can explain it:

Imagine being handed the maintenance manual for an airplane and being told,

“Here—this will help you fly.”

You read it carefully.

You follow the instructions.

You pull the levers exactly as written.

And then you crash.

Not because the manual was wrong.

Not because you were incapable.

But because it wasn’t written for that plane.

Healing works the same way.

A truth meant for a healed mind will confuse a traumatized one.

A principle meant for safety will feel like pressure in survival mode.

Wrong layer. Wrong timing. Wrong controls.

Why We Try to Force It Anyway

When you’ve lived in chaos for a long time, clarity feels urgent.

You don’t want to “sit with it.”

You don’t want to “go slow.”

You want out.

So you force the truth to fit.

You stretch it.

You twist it.

You tell yourself, I should be able to do this.

I did this for years.

I would read something meaningful and think,

This must apply to me right now—because I want it to.

But when I went back and reread my old journals later, I could see it clearly:

I wasn’t ready for what I was trying to use.

Not because I was weak.

But because I was still learning where I actually was.

When Truth Becomes Pressure

Here’s how you know a truth doesn’t belong in your current layer yet:

It makes you feel ashamed instead of grounded It creates urgency instead of clarity It makes you feel behind, defective, or “late” It pushes you to perform healing instead of experience it

That doesn’t mean the truth is false.

It means it’s premature.

Healing Needs Context, Not Commands

This is why I’m writing this series in parts.

Because without context, people are left trying to map their own healing with no reference point—guessing which lesson belongs where.

And when you guess, you tend to:

Apply advanced lessons to early wounds Skip over necessary foundations Or force growth before safety exists

That’s not healing.

That’s survival wearing a spiritual costume.

As you read anything I share—here or anywhere—try asking yourself:

Does this make me feel safe or squeezed? Does it invite choice or demand compliance? Does it bring clarity—or make me feel like I’m failing?

If it doesn’t fit right now, that’s okay.

You’re not rejecting truth.

You’re honoring timing.

What This Series Is (and Isn’t)

This series isn’t here to:

Tell you how to heal Rank journeys Argue belief systems Push therapy or reject it

It’s here to offer placement.

Stories paired with truth.

Truth paired with lived context.

Context paired with compassion.

So you can take what fits.

Leave what doesn’t.

And come back to it later—when it does.

Because healing isn’t about forcing yourself forward.

It’s about learning where you actually are—and choosing from there.

Shared from lived experience, not professional advice.

Faith & Healing


Finding Faith During Healing: When God Felt Like Punishment, Not Peace

When Faith Felt Like a Love–Hate Relationship

Finding my faith during healing did not come easily.

For most of my life, my relationship with God was a love–hate one. I always believed He existed. During good times, I believed He was with me. But when things went bad, I didn’t see lessons—I saw punishment.

I believed God was punishing me for my choices.

For how I behaved.

For the thoughts I had.

For the anger I carried.

For the moments when I stopped caring altogether.

Even when I knew I was doing the right thing—when I was trying, when I was showing up—if something fell apart, I assumed it was because I deserved it.

I got angry with God because I didn’t understand.

I used the phrase often:

“You made me. You should know this is who I am.”

Why Punishment Made Sense to Me

Punishment made sense to me because peace was never modeled.

I was never met with softness.

Never met with grace.

Never met with calm correction or reassurance.

I was met with anger.

With confusion.

With chaos.

I was told what I did wrong—but never what I did right.

I don’t remember being praised as a child. If it happened, it was so minimal it never stayed with me.

As the oldest daughter, I was expected to know better.

To lead by example.

To take care of my siblings.

To be responsible.

But when no one teaches you how—how are you supposed to know?

Learning to Survive Instead of Being Cared For

The anger grew quietly.

I learned to find peace alone, but it never lasted. My safe spaces were always taken from me. Even family vacations weren’t about connection—they were just new locations where the same emotional distance followed.

So I learned to disappear.

Outdoors.

In the basement.

In my room.

When my parents divorced and my mom moved us thousands of miles away, even solitude changed. I shared a room with my sister, so I found new places to hide.

And still, I was angry with God—because nothing felt safe.

As I got older, no matter what choices I made—my own or someone else’s—I always felt regret. Remorse. Sadness. Anger at myself for “stupid” decisions.

I would get back up and try harder, but my faith never grew. It stayed stagnant. The love–hate relationship remained.

Confusing Pain With God’s Voice

I walked with empathy, confusion, anxiety, and chaos—not constant anger.

At one point, my body was so tense and sore that I feared something was wrong with me physically. I remembered hearing about diseases that stiffen the body over time, and I wondered if that was happening to me.

Life would shatter me, then shift again. I’d thank God when things changed—but the change was never truly good. It was just another version of the same harm.

I didn’t realize that what hurt me was hurting me the entire time.

Trauma Disguised as Love

My ex-husband repeated what I had learned growing up.

He held things over my head.

Punished me emotionally.

Left when I didn’t comply.

Each time he left, I felt the devastating pain of abandonment—the kind that comes without warning. And every time, I believed it was my punishment.

Punishment for being “bad.”

For needing attention as a child.

For failing somehow as a wife, a person, a human.

Yet even then, I made sure my daughter didn’t suffer the way I did.

That’s when something shifted.

My parents moved on with their lives.

I stayed present for my child.

I didn’t yet understand what that meant—but it planted a seed.

Realizing What Was Never My Responsibility

I never understood that as a child, I should have been taken care of.

It wasn’t my job to raise myself.

To regulate myself.

To protect myself.

But I did.

And I continued doing it into adulthood.

When my ex came back, I thought it was God saying, “You deserve this now.”

But it wasn’t God.

It was trauma bonding.

And I couldn’t see it yet.

When Healing Began—but Trust Hadn’t Yet

When I started my healing journey about a year and a half ago, I still believed in God—but I didn’t trust Him.

I was terrified that if I let my guard down, something bad would happen.

And often, it did.

So I would cry out to God, angry and broken:

“This is why I can’t trust You. Every time I do, something goes wrong.”

So I put my guard back up and tried to fix everything myself.

I believed it was my job to heal others. To make things right. To carry everything.

And when that became impossible, all the trauma I had buried came spilling out.

Seeing the Lesson Instead of the Punishment

The change didn’t happen all at once.

But slowly, I began to see patterns.

Lessons.

Meaning.

I started looking back at my life—not through shame, but through understanding.

God wasn’t punishing me.

He was teaching me.

I just wasn’t healthy enough to see it at the time.

That realization changed everything.

Faith Became Trust, Not Fear

I began to trust God—not because life became easy, but because I understood there was purpose even in pain.

I gave myself fully to Him, realizing He had never intended for me to carry everything alone.

But like any good father, He allowed me to learn—because real understanding comes from walking through something, not being shielded from it.

Now, I begin and end my day in Scripture.

Even the verses I don’t understand, I research. I sit with them. And every single time, they connect back to my life.

Walking With God Feels Different

When you walk with God, life feels different.

It becomes whole.

Peaceful.

Grounded.

You heal.

You respond instead of react.

You pause before speaking.

I now ask myself:

How can I speak in a way that teaches without harming?

How can I invite reflection without forcing belief?

I don’t push people toward God.

I leave space for Him to meet them.

Because that’s how He met me.

shared from lived experience, not professional advice.


A Letter I Wrote But Never Sent

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

From Unhealthy to Healthy: Where Healing, Alignment, and Faith Meet



When Faith Is Taken in Pieces, It Loses Its Power

Not everything that was done in my life was wrong.

But a lot of it wasn’t right either.

Some of it wasn’t healthy.

And some of it wasn’t biblical.

When faith is taken in pieces—out of context and without intention—it loses its strength. It stops guiding and starts controlling. And people get hurt.

You can’t go to church on Sunday and live disconnected from God the rest of the week and call that walking with Him.

Church attendance doesn’t make someone godly.

Daily intention does.

Walking with God is lived.

It’s practiced.

It’s relational.

God Never Put People in Charge of Other People’s Souls

God didn’t create people to manage other people’s lives because He was busy elsewhere.

Scripture consistently shows that God wants each person to come directly to Him—in pain, sorrow, confusion, joy, growth, and celebration.

When parents, leaders, or institutions place themselves between God and another person’s alignment, that isn’t biblical authority.

That’s control.

Guidance is godly.

Control is not.

This Isn’t a Mental Health Crisis — It’s an 

Unhealthy

 One

The struggle isn’t mental health itself.

It’s unhealthy mental health—formed in environments where identity was assigned instead of discovered.

I don’t care what diagnosis you name. At different points in my life, I could have carried many of them.

Not because I was broken.

But because I was overwhelmed—trying to survive noise, pressure, and expectations that didn’t align with who I was.

Unhealthy minds cannot access clarity.

They cannot access alignment.

And they often cannot access God clearly either.

That doesn’t mean God isn’t there.

It means survival mode blocks the ability to feel Him.

Healing Begins When You Move From Unhealthy to Healthy

Here’s the part that matters deeply:

Once you move from unhealthy to healthy, everything changes.

Healing becomes more natural.

Trauma responses soften.

Triggers lessen—or when they do appear, they don’t control you the same way.

This is true in mental health.

And it’s true in faith.

Once you’re grounded and healthy, you finally see what God was teaching all along:

Life includes sorrow, pain, grief, loss, divorce, disappointment, and joy, excitement, purpose, and growth.

God never promised the absence of pain.

He promised His presence through it.

But when you’re unhealthy, you can’t reach that truth.

It’s impossible.

To reach your potential—spiritually or emotionally—you must first step from unhealthy into healthy.

Once you do, the rest begins to flow.

Why Success Is Sometimes Quiet

This is why milestones—like graduation, healing breakthroughs, or personal achievements—don’t always feel like something we want to share widely.

Because the people who want to celebrate the outcome weren’t always present for the process.

In some cases, they were actively trying to force us off the very road that led to our healing.

So when success comes, it isn’t about proving anything.

It’s not ego success.

It’s not “see, I told you so” success.

It’s alignment success.

I didn’t succeed because I stuck with what you wanted.

I succeeded because I finally stuck with what aligned with me.

That isn’t selfish.

That’s stewardship of your soul.

Alignment Is Personal — Even Within Families

God did not design us to be the same—not even within the same family.

Our souls are different.

Our callings are different.

Our alignments are different.

When you force someone out of their alignment—whether you believe you’re right or not—you interfere with lessons that belong to them.

And the only thing they learn from that is how to let you go.

Sometimes temporarily.

Sometimes permanently.

Because once someone becomes healthy, they see clearly.

And not everyone makes it to that place—because believing you have no purpose, no voice, and no worth can become unbearable.

That’s why this matters.

A Question Every Parent Must Ask

Before pushing.

Before correcting.

Before insisting you know better.

Ask yourself:

Am I doing the godly thing…

or the ego-driven thing?

Am I guiding—or controlling?

Am I encouraging—or forcing?

Am I walking beside—or standing in the way?

God does not control.

He invites.

And that invitation is where healing begins.

A Note for Those Who Aren’t Ready for Faith Yet 🤍

I know what it’s like to be depressed and unhealthy.

I didn’t trust many people during that time—and that included God.

So this isn’t about forcing belief.

It’s about sharing lived experience.

Not to persuade.

Not to influence.

But to say:

I know where you are, because I’ve been there. ❤️‍🩹

Shared from lived experience, not professional advice.


Part 4: Boundaries & Alignment

This was the turning point for me—the layer that finally led me to becoming healthy, and ultimately to healing.

For me, alignment came before boundaries. Especially at the beginning of my healing journey, when I was consciously trying to understand what was wrong and why my life felt so misaligned.

And I fumbled this—often.

Alignment sounds simple: listen to your inner voice, listen to your soul. But in practice, it was much harder than I expected, and not for the reasons I thought.

Alignment isn’t about small preferences—like choosing between a hamburger or chicken for dinner. Either choice may affect you physically, but neither alters who you are. What I didn’t realize was that I had been compromising in the wrong places—on decisions that shaped my identity, my direction, and my sense of self.

I compromised where I shouldn’t have.

I chose someone else’s preferences over my own in matters that mattered:

where I lived,

what I pursued after school,

which relationships I stayed in,

what I tolerated,

and even how I interpreted my own thoughts and instincts.

I mistook guilt for loyalty.

Gaslighting for guidance.

Silence for peace.

Over time, I learned to quiet my gut—because I was taught early on that my voice didn’t matter, that my instincts were unreliable, and that prioritizing others’ pain was the “right” thing to do. Empathy became self-erasure.

That’s empathy without boundaries—and it’s incredibly destructive.

My anger, anxiety, and trauma responses were never random. They were signals. My body and soul were reacting to a life lived out of alignment—one where I consistently chose others’ expectations over my own truth.

Alignment began when I stopped fighting that inner voice and started listening to it.

Not from ego.

Not from a need to be right.

But from honesty.

Alignment is the ability to name what you feel and allow others to name what they feel—then have hard, respectful conversations rooted in truth. Alignment understands that facts matter, that resolution matters, and that avoiding conflict does not create peace.

As healing progressed, I began to see something clearly: boundaries form naturally when you are aligned.

Boundaries are not walls.

They are not punishments.

They are not rejection.

They are clarity.

I stopped overexplaining myself to people who were committed to misunderstanding me. I stopped engaging in conversations where my character was attacked instead of my words being heard. I learned when a situation was no longer resolvable because one side refused accountability.

And I walked away—not in anger, not in hatred—but in truth.

This was especially important when I revisited teachings like “honor thy mother and father,” which had been used to silence me for years.

True biblical honor was never meant to require self-betrayal, silence, or enduring harm. Honor is rooted in dignity, truth, and wisdom—not blind obedience or forced unity. When honor is used to shame boundaries, deny reality, or demand forgiveness without accountability, it stops being biblical and becomes manipulation.

Honoring others does not require dishonoring yourself.

God never asked us to protect dysfunction at the expense of our mental, emotional, or spiritual health. Sometimes the most honoring thing we can do is speak truth, step back, and release what we cannot change.

As alignment deepened, boundaries became less effortful. I no longer had to think through every decision or brace for backlash. I trusted myself.

And with that trust came change.

I returned to the things I once loved—the simple things. My habits shifted naturally. Emotional eating faded. Anxiety no longer ran my choices. Sadness still came, but it no longer controlled me. I learned to bring it to God, sit with it, and move forward without shame.

I realized that the moments where I “exploded” over something small were never about that moment at all. They were the accumulation of years of silence—of important truths left unspoken, boundaries never honored, and alignment repeatedly ignored.

Healing didn’t make me perfect.

It made me honest.

I began to see that many of the behaviors I once hated in myself were survival strategies—created to endure a life that wasn’t aligned with who I was meant to be. That version of me wasn’t broken. She was surviving.

But she didn’t need to exist anymore.

Letting her go was painful—and necessary.

Because the person God created me to be could not fully live while I was still surviving.

And once I released that version of myself, something remarkable happened: my mind became quieter, my body steadier, my choices clearer. I didn’t heal every trauma—but I healed enough for my brain and nervous system to function healthily again.

A healthy mind doesn’t have to fight so hard to heal.

This—alignment and boundaries together—is the way God always intended us to live.

Shared from lives experience, not professional advice.