Breaking Generational Curses :: It Stops With Me
Who I am now is virtually unrecognizable to anyone who knew me in my childhood. This is something I am actually incredibly proud of, because the old me needed to take a back seat to who the new me was trying to become. Anyone in school would say that I was the sweetest person they had ever met. Genuinely kind (still true), mild mannered, giving “goodie two shoes” energy. They aren’t wrong! That is what I was portraying back then. Trying to earn stability and love with good behavior and near perfection. What a stifling and crippling cross that is to bear. It’s almost as if I have lived two lives: the life before I started to break generational curses, and the life that I took back many, many years later.
My story is not all bad. I had a two-parent household, both of whom love me and my brother very much. We didn’t want for much, and I knew that I was supported. But addiction, in all forms, but most notably substance abuse, plagued our household. As a therapist would help diagnose later, I learned multiple anxious behaviors from feeling unsafe in my home. Stability was hard to come by. Adults acted more like children. Children were expected to honor and respect our parents, even though they did not consistently honor and respect boundaries or create safe spaces for us. “Do as I say, not as I do” was a very commonly used phrase.
It was not until I had my first baby that I determined it was no longer about pleasing anyone else. It was about HER!
It was uncomfortable at first, to say the least. Uncomfortable isn’t actually a strong enough word. It was more like gut-wrenching. To flip my personality on its head and just say “ENOUGH!” I made a statement and it traveled, y’all. Like the shot heard round the world. I made a bold and shocking roar. My family watched me become a mother, and consequently, a total badass. Once a woman realizes the power that she possesses, especially as a mom, she is practically unshakable. This is the persona I took on, and the one that you can already see materializing in my 7-year old.
A friend of mine once told me that my daughter would stand for the things that she saw me stand for.
Ouch … that hit me hard. If I convey to her that she isn’t allowed space, that it is more important to be polite than to be respected, that she can’t poke the bear too much for fear of how others will respond … then I have set a very dangerous precedent. No. More. Not on my watch. Am I teaching her to be respectful of others? Yes! Am I also teaching her to demand that others respect her and her boundaries? HELL yes!
I cannot change my upbringing. I’m thankful for it now. It has given me perspective, backbone, grit and an in some ways, an example of what I do not want for my kids. I respect my family and I do love them dearly. But I deserved better, and my kids deserve better. So, my husband and I will be better. My encouragement to any woman feeling the same way is this: You can wake up tomorrow and change your approach. You can do really hard things. You can pivot. You can write your own narrative. Without being arrogant, I can confidently say there are not a whole lot of people better than me now at respectfully putting people in their place. Here’s what I will tolerate, here’s what I will not tolerate, and allow the chips to fall. It’s healthier for me and it has made my little created family so much stronger.
