Held Between What Was And What Can Be.
Reader Pause:
When you think about the foundations of your life, what do you see? Are they steady, cracked, or still being built?
My History: Shaky Ground
Foundations are supposed to hold us steady. But the ones I inherited were fractured. My childhood was marked by family trauma, mental illness, and addiction. I grew up in a blended family where belonging was complicated, where love and rupture lived side by side.
Later, college brought its own wounds, sexual assault that left scars I carried silently. And in adulthood, abuse by my daughter’s father added another layer of pain, another reminder that the ground beneath me was not steady.
These experiences shaped me, but they also shook me. They taught me that foundations are not always safe. Sometimes they are cracked, sometimes they are built on silence, sometimes they crumble when you need them most.
Reader Pause:
What foundations did you inherit? Which ones have carried you, and which ones have held you back?
My Now: Choosing to Build Differently
I cannot change the hand I was dealt. But I can choose how I play it now. My present is about breaking generational trauma, healing my inner child, and rebuilding my self‑image and sense of self‑worth.
I want to be a good role model for my children, not perfect, but honest. I want them to see that healing is possible, that cycles can be broken, that sanctuary can be built even on shaky ground.
This is the work of living held between acknowledging what was, while choosing what can be. It is the daily decision to build differently, even when the past whispers otherwise.
Repair Work: Brick by Brick
Repair is not glamorous. It is slow, often invisible. It looks like finding God and letting faith steady me. It looks like setting clear boundaries and refusing to falter on them, even when it costs me comfort.
It looks like apologizing to those I hurt when I wasn’t a better, stronger, healthier version of myself. It looks like therapy, the silent, unseen work of sitting with pain, naming it, and slowly untangling its grip.
Repair is laying new bricks, one at a time. It is choosing to build a foundation that is steadier than the one I inherited. It is the quiet art of persistence, of showing up, of refusing to let the past dictate the future.
Reader Pause:
If you could rebuild your foundations, what would you choose to keep? What would you let go?
Legacy: What We Leave Behind
Foundations are not just for us. They are for those who come after, our children, our communities, the people who stumble into our stories and find themselves reflected there.
I want my legacy to say: You belong. You are safe. You are held between what was and what can be.
I want my children to inherit something steadier than what I was given. I want them to know that cycles can be broken, that healing is possible, that sanctuary can be built even from rubble.
Closing Return
Everyone’s past is shaky in different ways and to varying degrees. What matters is not the cracks themselves, but how we grow and learn from the cards we were dealt. We will never be able to change the hand we have or the life we have already lived. But we can live for tomorrow.
There’s a famous Chinese proverb: “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second-best time is right now.”
The best time to have laid a better foundation for your life would have been never to experience trauma, never carry those wounds. But the second-best time, the time we have now, is to choose differently, to repair, to build, to live for tomorrow.
