survivor

  • The Small Permissions

    The Small Permissions

    The Small Permissions Most life-shattering failures do not arrive like lightning. They seep in like water through the foundation. They begin with tiny permissions no one else can see. Just this once. I deserve this. It helps me cope. For the child who grew up in safety, these permissions may remain small. But for the…

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  • When I Mistook Fear for Faith

    There was a time when I confused trembling with devotion. I was a shattered, self-destructive girl, forever sweeping up the glass of my own life, believing God was standing over me with a ledger instead of open hands. I knew how to run from Him. Then I learned how to perform for Him. I traded…

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  • I am a Warrior

    Several of the women recalled lying awake, motionless, waiting for the inevitable – a brother or father coming in to molest them. The Body Keeps the Score, van der Kolk, Chapter 2, Trauma Before Dawn These were my nights. Many of them. And, I survived. How I survived is the thing to be questioned. As…

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  • In this land of polished smiles and hollow promises, we drape ourselves in the pretense of cherishing our children. We construct monuments of virtue, each brick laid with declarations of their importance. Yet, beneath this facade, our actions whisper truths too bitter to acknowledge. We parade our offspring as trophies, their achievements our own reflected…

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  • Not Today, Not Anymore

    If this were a story, it would start in the middle—because that’s how these things go, right? Not at the bright, screaming beginning, where a girl is born into a house that is more war zone than home. Not at the end, where she stands, whole and breathing, on the other side of it all.…

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  • The Quiet Restoration

    There is a longing in every soul for something deeper, something truer. Life batters us with wounds that run deeper than we dare to admit—broken relationships, unrealized dreams, and the quiet ache of feeling unseen. But here’s the beautiful truth: we were never meant to carry these burdens alone. Healing begins in the quiet places.…

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  • The Den of Denial

    Here, in the gauze of denial, a soul softens, losing its edges, its bite, its clarity. Evil sits across the room, legs crossed, whispering sweetly—seduction in its tone. It calls itself necessity, then compromise, then, finally, your closest friend. Oh, but what becomes of the spine when it bends too often? When the first “no”…

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  • I am not the rare butterfly, the lone flame burning bright in a sea of shadows. I am not the chosen one, not the anomaly, not the girl with the golden key to the kingdom of suffering. The truth, stark and bitter as the taste of raw earth, is that I am ordinary in my…

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  • When does the healing end? When do the old ghosts stop rattling their chains in your bones? They say time is the great healer, but time is also a thief. It can steal innocence, families, safe and warm memories. It smooths over the jagged edges, sure, but does it ever really fill the cracks? Happiness…

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  • Growing up, many of us were taught that love is unconditional and nurturing. However, for those who experienced toxic or abusive parenting, love often came with conditions, expectations, and performances that were anything but peaceful. Performative love is a haunting legacy of childhood spent in cycles of abuse, where affection was contingent on compliance and…

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