Becoming someone I needed; For me and For them

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 ways, I grew up with him. We were learning life at the same time; me trying to figure out who I was while also trying to be everything he needed.

And if I’m being honest, there are parts of that I carry with me.

I wish I had been strong enough to heal before I had kids. I wish I had understood myself more, had worked through the pain earlier, had known how to navigate my emotions in a healthier way. That’s a hard truth to sit with. There’s guilt in it. There’s sadness in it.

But there’s also reality.

I can’t change where I started but I can choose where I go from here.

Today, I’m a mother to two incredible boys, and my heart has expanded to include a bonus son and a bonus daughter who mean just as much to me. They are my world. And they are one of the biggest reasons I’ve committed to this healing journey.

Because I want something different for them.

I don’t want them to carry what I carried. I don’t want them to question their worth or feel unsafe in their own emotions. I want them to grow up knowing they are loved, heard, and protected.

And that means I have to keep doing the work.

The good days and the hard days.

The days where I feel like I’m breaking cycles, and the days where I feel like I’m falling short.

Through all of this, I’m not alone. Janelle is my safe place. She is the person who has shown me what love is actually supposed to feel like—steady, patient, genuine. Loving her and being loved by her has changed me in ways I didn’t even know I needed. She makes me feel safe.

She supports me through the parts of healing that aren’t pretty—the moments where old wounds resurface, where I doubt myself, where I feel overwhelmed. She doesn’t run from it. She stands beside me in it.

And that kind of love… it’s powerful.

It’s healing in its own way.

Healing hasn’t been a straight line for me. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable. It’s learning to sit with feelings I used to avoid. It’s unlearning survival habits that once protected me but now hold me back.

Some days, I feel strong and grounded.

Other days, I feel like I’m still that younger version of myself, trying to figure it all out.

But even then I keep going.

I’m learning to be kinder to myself.

To give myself grace for the things I didn’t know then.

To recognize that doing better now matters.

I’m becoming someone I needed when I was younger.

And I see it in my kids. In the way they come to me when they’re hurting. In the way they trust me with their feelings. In the way they feel safe enough to just be who they are. That means everything to me.

There is still grief. There always will be. But there is also growth, love, and a life I am actively choosing every single day.

I didn’t start this journey as the healed version of myself.

But I’m becoming her.

For me.

For all of my kids.

For the life we’re building together.

And for the first time, that feels like enough.