For a long time, I didn’t have the words for what I had been through. I just knew that certain moments felt heavier than they should. That I reacted strongly to things other people brushed off. That even in calm, quiet spaces, something inside me was still on edge, still waiting for something to go wrong. I now understand that I grew up carrying things that were never mine to hold. I became a mother young. I had my first son, Jakoby, when I was just 18 years old. In so many w

For many survivors of childhood abuse, the past doesn’t stay in the past. It lingers quietly beneath the surface, shaping reactions, emotions, and behaviors in ways that can feel confusing or overwhelming. These experiences often manifest as triggers — moments in everyday life that activate memories or emotional states tied to earlier trauma. Understanding these triggers is a powerful step toward reclaiming control and building a more grounded, self-aware life. What Are Trig

It’s a question that has lived quietly in my chest for years. Sometimes loud. Sometimes just a whisper. How could you? How could the person who was supposed to protect me be the one I needed protection from? How could love and pain come from the same place, the same hands, the same voice? As a child, I didn’t have the language for it. I just knew something felt wrong. I learned to shrink. To stay quiet. To read moods like survival depended on it—because it did. And still, I l

No one talks enough about what it’s like to start healing when you’re already grown. When you already have responsibilities. When you’re already in relationships. When you’re already a parent, trying to raise children while still learning how to take care of yourself. Healing later in life feels unfair sometimes. Because you don’t just get to focus on yourself, you’re trying to undo years of pain while still showing up for everyone else. You’re expected to function, to love,

There’s a quiet myth many of us grow up believing: that love means access. Unlimited, unquestioned, unconditional access. Especially when it comes to family. For a long time, I believed that if I loved you, I had to tolerate everything. The hurt. The dismissal. The patterns that never changed. I told myself that loyalty meant staying close, no matter the cost to myself. But healing has a way of rewriting those beliefs. I’ve learned something that once felt impossible to hold

Growing up, I was called things no child should ever hear. Names that made me feel small. Names that made me question my worth. Names that stuck to me long after the moment passed. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what it was doing to me. I just knew it hurt. I knew it made me feel like I had to prove myself, fix myself, shrink myself into someone more acceptable—someone who wouldn’t be criticized, yelled at, or torn down. That kind of environment doesn’t just stay in y

Someday I’ll send this to her but for now I’ll post here. I’m done pretending my childhood didn’t affect me becuase it did For a long time, I minimized everything. I told myself it “wasn’t that bad,” that other people had it worse, that I should just get over it. But the truth is, growing up in that house hurt me in ways I’m still dealing with. You were supposed to protect me. Instead, I learned how to survive you. I learned how to stay quiet to avoid conflict. I learned how

I didn’t become this way for no reason. Growing up, home didn’t always feel safe. The people who were supposed to protect me—my mom and my stepfather—were also the ones who taught me how to stay on edge. I learned early how to read moods, how to stay quiet, how to avoid saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. I learned that peace could disappear in a second. So I adapted. I became hyper-aware of everything. Every tone shift, every look, every small change in energy. I learn

• Note: Trigger warning: This post discusses childhood trauma, suicide attempts and sexual abuse. Please read with care. Breaking the Silence: From Survival Mode to Healing ​ I lived on survival mode for so long that I forgot there was any other way to exist. For years, I was labeled the “bad child.” I was angry, lost, and hurting so deeply that at sixteen, I simply didn't want to live in the hell I was going through anymore. I wanted to end it all, I tired! Thankfully, I mad

Healing from childhood trauma doesn’t start with having all the answers—it begins with a quiet, often uncomfortable awareness that something inside you deserves attention. For many of us, childhood wasn’t as safe or nurturing as it should have been. Maybe it was chaos, neglect, emotional wounds, or things you still struggle to put into words. And for a long time, you learned how to survive it. You adapted. You coped. You kept going. But survival isn’t the same as healing. Hea

Looking back, I wish I could hold the little girl that suffered soo much pain. When I was younger, the trauma I went through, I always questioned why me? Why do they hate me? What did I do soo wrong to deserve all the pain they caused me? Why would you abuse your daughter(s) and call her names? Make her feel less than she deserved? I saw no end... So many nights of crying myself to sleep. My sister and I talking at night and her telling me it will be ok sissy or me telling he