Okay, let’s address the elephant in the room. I know my recent posts have been a deep dive into the “horror show”, especially that recent look into the generational trauma and the absolute, inherited madness that was running through my family tree way before I was ever born. I know I’ve been wading through some dark, inherited sludge lately.
But I want to be crystal clear: this isn’t a tragedy. I’m not writing this to keep us stuck in the basement of our own histories. I’m writing this because the end of this story? It’s actually a really, really happy ending. I want you to stick around because, while I’ve had to walk through fire to get here, I’ve finally reached the part of the movie where the protagonist actually wins.
You know that specific, arrogant little moment where you think, “Yes, finally! I have arrived! I have cracked the code of the universe! I am an enlightened being!”? And then, five minutes later, you find yourself staring at a wall wondering why you bought that weird blue cheese at the grocery store?
Yeah. That’s my life. I live for those “aha” moments. But I’ve realized that right when I think I have it all figured out, the universe leans in and reminds me that I absolutely do not. And for the first time ever? I’m okay with that. I’ve learned a lot, and the tuition for this education was exorbitant. I paid the price. I’m talking full-market-value for my wisdom.
The “Dumpster Fire” Era
From 2015 to 2023, my life was essentially a low-budget horror film that had been doused in gasoline. After my husband Keith died, I found myself trapped in an abusive relationship, spiraling into a haze of drugs, just waiting for the curtain to close. And then, the universe pushed me further than I thought possible: I watched that partner take his own life right in front of me.
That was the peak of the chaos. I felt like I was just waiting to die because everything else in my world had gone to absolute shit.
The “Aha” Moment (That Didn’t Fix Everything)
I didn’t always know what boundaries were. In fact, before I met Keith and his mother, Barbara, I thought a “boundary” was just a suggestion you ignored to keep people happy.
I’ll never forget the day I got my first real taste of the truth. We were sitting there filling out disability paperwork for me, this huge, heavy, life-changing stuff, and my mom called. She demanded I stop everything to run her errands. I got off the phone and told Barbara and Keith I had to leave to do it. They just looked at me like I had three heads. “What the fuck are you talking about? We’re doing this for you right now, and this is important.”
I was defensive. “But it’s my mother! I can’t tell her no!”
I was wrong, and they were right. No was an option. But here is the raw truth: knowing that and doing that are two very different things. I didn’t become a boundary ninja overnight. Far from it. I stayed in that abusive relationship way too long. I let myself get taken advantage of; I was robbed; I had so much taken from me while I was still trying to figure out how to stand up for myself. I was out there in the trenches, just trying to survive without a roadmap. It wasn’t until after that final tragedy that the real, permanent shift finally took hold.
The Rescue Mission & The Retraining
Around the end of 2020, I started my real-life rescue mission. I saved my mother from my sister, who, let’s be real, is a certified nightmare. I did it because I needed a purpose, and I was ready to be a daughter again.
But bringing Mom into my life required the ultimate boundary test. It took some serious retraining. I told her, “I will take care of you until the day you die, and I’m happy to do it. But it’s going to be with respect, love, and strict boundaries.”
And do you know what? She listened. We healed 40 years of hurt and pain. I saw my mom, who had been depressed for as long as I could remember, actually become happy. It was my first real crack at holding a boundary, and I realized: boundaries aren’t there to push people away; they’re there to create a safe enough space for love to actually grow.
The Great Pivot
Then 2023 hit like a wrecking ball. I lost my dad, then my mom. I began noticing more and more how some of my friendships were one-sided. Then they imploded and I cut off contact. It wasn’t just friends I had to cut off anymore, I had to perform surgery on my own family tree. I cut off the toxic members, stopped letting them have a seat at my table, and stood in the wreckage of my old life, completely alone.
But this time, instead of avoiding pain I did something revolutionary: I leaned in.
The “Don’t Touch My Shit” Era
Once I stopped letting the wrong people have a seat at my table, I became a person I didn’t even recognize.
I was single for a while, and let me tell you: it was fucking fantastic. I discovered the absolute, intoxicating joy of sovereignty. I could do whatever I wanted. No one touched my shit, no one moved my shit, no one took my shit. I was in heaven.
I realized everything I’d ever begged a partner, friend, or family member to give me, validation, help, fulfillment, I could just give to myself. The moment I stopped getting angry that they weren’t providing it and just started providing it for myself, the whole world opened up.
The Real Payoff
And here is the beautiful part of the plot twist: When you finally do the work, set the boundaries, and cultivate that self-love, dating hits different.
I’ve spent a lifetime in weird, dysfunctional dynamics where one or both of us was fundamentally broken. But this is the first time I’ve ever been in a healthy exchange with another healthy adult. There is so much power in the “I don’t need you; I choose you” energy. I don’t need someone to save me, to complete me, or to fix me. I am already whole. Choosing to be with someone from that place of strength? It’s amazing. It is a completely different world.
Ascending the Hotel
I look at myself now, and I see that little girl who got her dreams crushed all those years ago. I scoop her up. I tell her, “It’s okay. I got you. I’ve always had you, and I always will.”
I have my own back. I pick myself up off the floor, and I climb another level of this hotel.
If you’re feeling lost, know this: you are not stuck in the lobby. The lobby is for waiting. The lobby is for people who think they need a receptionist to tell them where to go.
I’m writing this because I don’t want you to have to wander in the dark as long as I did. I had to learn this in the trenches, the hard way. But I’m here to tell you that there is a way up. Find the stairs. I’m currently on the top floor, and honestly? The view is spectacular.
Rock Bottom Was Only The Lobby 