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I felt like I was 10 years old again, lying in bed with my melancholy, staring into space and feeling the emptiness around me.
Except now I’m in my 30s and have two duplicates to care for. So, I wanted to break the cycle.
I dreamed of being stronger and happier. Just as I do now.
This moment felt like a complete time warp. Maybe my position triggered the memory—the body remembers.
That may have been the moment when I created the belief that I am not good enough.
That belief led me down dark roads. That belief sits in me now, still.
And I have passed it onto my kin.
“Break the generational cycle.”
What a heavy responsibility. As if basic life isn’t enough.
I fill myself with regret and shame. I scream self-hatred from deep inside of me.
“Give them what you needed when you were younger.”
I can only give what I have. And right now, all I have is awareness. But with this awareness, I know how to find tools.
Many times, I pleaded to speak with a counselor, but every time I spoke my truth, trouble followed.
But I won’t silence my children. I’ll let them be heard. I’ll give them the tools. And we will work on fighting our demons together. As if I were 10 years old again, but this time not alone. My inner child is not alone.
And as painful and tragic as that is for me to say, she has a voice now. She has a choice. She is making sure the generation that comes from me doesn’t have to lie in bed quietly, stuffing skeletons in the closet.
I may not be the one to break the cycle. But maybe as our generations find healing, we can be the ones who shift just enough for it to eventually fall off on its own.
“Let it stop with you.”
Maybe it’s not that easy for all of us. Maybe we pass our pain down, too. Maybe it doesn’t happen overnight.
Maybe we wake up and do our best, and maybe that is enough.