Browsing Category

Relationships

Healing Journey Relationships

When Your Mother is the Source of Your Pain

May 10, 2025

I used to think I was the only one.

The only daughter who walked on eggshells in her own home. The only child who flinched at compliments, because they always came with a catch. The only woman who reached adulthood still waiting for her mother’s approval—only to realize it would never come.

But I’ve learned that daughters of narcissistic, emotionally abusive mothers are everywhere. We’re the ones who were told we were too sensitive. Too dramatic. Too much. Or not enough.

Some people talk about mother wounds like they’re metaphors. I talk about them the way I remember them: as facts. As scars. As quiet rooms filled with loud silence. As teenage memories of being insulted in public, gaslit in private, and shamed into obedience with a smile on her face for the neighbors to see.

Let me be clear:
This isn’t about revenge.
It’s about release.

For years, I thought I had to keep the peace—even if it meant keeping my pain a secret. I thought being a good daughter meant staying quiet, showing up, and swallowing the disrespect as long as she needed me. But the truth is, keeping peace with someone who thrives on control is not peace. It’s submission.

And daughters like us?
We’ve submitted long enough.

So how do you deal with a narcissistic mother?

You don’t try to change her.
You stop letting her change you.

You start setting boundaries—not as punishments, but as acts of self-respect. You stop explaining yourself to someone committed to misunderstanding you. You stop shrinking, fawning, and second-guessing your worth. And when she says, “After everything I’ve done for you…” you remind yourself that love is not a transaction, and obligation is not affection.

If you’re tired, I see you.
If you’re healing, I stand with you.
If you’ve lost family for telling your truth—welcome. You’re not alone here.

This is the kind of honesty I’ve poured into my memoir, We’re Not Monsters.
Not because I’m bitter.
But because I’m done pretending I’m fine when I’m not.

We were never the problem.
We were just the ones brave enough to name it.

Healing Journey Relationships Well-Being

5 Painful Truths I Learned From My Toxic Mother

May 7, 2025
An image of a black woman looking out a window

I didn’t learn to grieve my mother until I stopped expecting her to change.

Growing up, I spent years twisting myself into someone more acceptable. Quieter. More helpful. Less emotional. More obedient. I thought if I could just make myself small enough, easy enough, invisible enough—she might finally love me without hurting me.

But narcissistic mothers don’t need you to be good.
They need you to be dependent.
They need you to reflect their image—not become your own.

Here’s what I’ve learned after years of healing:

1. She was always the loudest voice in the room—until I found mine.

My childhood was filled with her opinions, her needs, her chaos. There wasn’t much space for me to become anyone separate. When I started speaking up, setting boundaries, or simply saying no—she took it as betrayal. But that voice I found? It saved me.

2. Criticism was her love language.

Nothing was ever quite right. There was always something to fix: my body, my tone, my choices, my face. Compliments were rare, and when they came, they were booby-trapped with backhanded digs. I stopped trying to earn approval and started building self-respect instead.

3. She never said sorry—so I had to stop expecting it.

There was always an excuse, always someone else to blame. Apologies never came. I wasted years waiting for closure that would never arrive. Learning to live without it has been one of my deepest griefs—and one of my greatest freedoms.

4. She called me too sensitive—but I wasn’t. I was unprotected.

I used to think something was wrong with me for feeling things so deeply. But now I see that my empathy, my softness, my intuition—they were all signs of strength, not weakness. What I needed was safety, not shame.

5. Her love came with terms and conditions. Mine doesn’t.

With her, love was earned. With my own child, it is given freely. I mother differently now—softly, intentionally, with presence instead of power. And that, in itself, is a revolution.

I wrote my memoir, We’re Not Monsters, for women like me—daughters of mothers who never really saw them, who turned their pain inward, and who are finally learning how to stop apologizing for surviving.

If you’re walking this path too, know this:
You’re not ungrateful.
You’re not broken.
You’re becoming whole—on your own terms.

📚 Ready to go deeper?
My memoir We’re Not Monsters is available here.
You can also follow my journey on Instagram at @ZenTenkamenin.

Healing Journey Relationships Well-Being

How Childhood Trauma Shapes Relationships (and How to Heal)

April 23, 2025
older woman looking at shattered image of her child self in mirror

How Trauma Affects Adult Relationships

We don’t always realize how much our childhood shaped us—until patterns start appearing in our adult lives that we can’t quite explain. Sometimes it shows up in how we respond to stress or criticism. But it’s especially loud when it comes to love, connection, and trust.

If you grew up walking on eggshells, being silenced, dismissed, or neglected, you might now find yourself doing one—or all—of the following:

💔 Fear of Abandonment

You constantly worry that people will leave—even when they haven’t shown any signs of pulling away. You might overthink texts, replay conversations in your head, or spiral into anxiety when someone becomes distant. Silence doesn’t feel neutral; it feels like punishment. And any sign of disconnection can feel like confirmation that you’re “too much” or “not enough.”

🙏 People-Pleasing

You go out of your way to keep others happy, even when it costs you your peace. Saying “no” feels like a betrayal, and disappointing someone fills you with guilt. You may confuse your worth with your usefulness—and struggle to accept love unless you’re earning it.

🧱 Emotional Unavailability

You keep people at arm’s length—not because you don’t care, but because closeness feels risky. Vulnerability can feel like exposure, and you’ve learned to stay guarded. Sometimes, you might even choose unavailable partners because their emotional distance feels familiar—and therefore, safer.

👀 Hypervigilance

You’re always on alert. You pick up on tone shifts, facial expressions, and silences others barely notice. Your nervous system has been trained to scan for danger—even in safe spaces. You might anticipate rejection before it happens, and feel exhausted from always being “on.”

These behaviors aren’t character flaws.
They’re survival strategies.

Why It Happens

As children, we adapt to feel safe.

If safety meant avoiding someone’s anger, withholding your emotions, or making yourself small—you did what you had to do to survive. You learned to predict moods, keep the peace, and internalize blame, even when it wasn’t yours to carry.

But those protective habits don’t disappear just because we’ve grown up.
They follow us—into our friendships, our romantic relationships, our parenting, and even our relationship with ourselves.

They might show up as:

  • Over-apologizing
  • Shutting down during conflict
  • Trying to “fix” emotionally unavailable partners
  • Feeling guilty for taking up space
  • Sabotaging intimacy when things feel “too good”

It’s not that we want chaos.
But chaos can feel familiar.
Without realizing it, we sometimes recreate the emotional environments we grew up in—because a part of us still believes that’s what love looks like.

The Cost of Unhealed Trauma

Left unaddressed, childhood trauma can shape how we attach to others, how we set boundaries (or don’t), and what we believe we deserve. It can show up in cycles of burnout, self-sabotage, or staying in unhealthy relationships out of fear.

It’s exhausting to live in survival mode when your body still thinks the danger hasn’t passed.

But here’s the truth: healing is possible.
And it doesn’t require perfection—just presence.

How to Start Healing

There’s no quick fix. But there is a path forward—one step at a time.

✅ Notice Your Patterns

Start by paying attention. What kinds of people are you drawn to? What arguments feel like déjà vu? What situations trigger intense reactions that seem “bigger than the moment”?

Curiosity is your compass—not shame.

✅ Seek Therapy

Trauma-informed therapy can help you connect the dots between your past and present—and gently guide you toward change. Therapy isn’t about blaming the past; it’s about freeing yourself from it.

There’s strength in asking for support.

✅ Set Boundaries

Not everyone deserves access to you.
Practice saying “no” without apology and “yes” without guilt.

Boundaries aren’t punishments—they’re protection.
They say: I respect myself enough to choose what energy I allow into my life.

✅ Practice Secure Attachment

Whether it’s through journaling, therapy, or safe relationships—start giving yourself what you once needed. Talk to yourself with gentleness. Sit with discomfort without abandoning yourself. Choose people who make you feel seen, not small.

Final Thoughts

Healing doesn’t mean you’ll never get triggered again.
It means you’ll recognize when you are—and respond with self-compassion instead of self-abandonment.

Your trauma isn’t your fault.
But your healing is your responsibility.

You don’t have to carry what happened forever.
You can rewrite your story.
You can choose love that feels safe.
You can break the cycle.

You’re not alone.
And your healing journey doesn’t have to be, either

➡️ Related: The Loneliness of Speaking the Truth

.

Relationships Societal Issues

Why Some Families Choose to Look the Other Way

June 2, 2023
black and white image of woman laying on her arm

Sexual abuse is a shadow that looms over far too many lives, its impact reaching deep into the fabric of families and communities. And yet, it remains an uncomfortable truth, too often ignored or minimized, buried under layers of fear and shame. The silence surrounding it is deafening, and its effects can echo through generations. But to truly understand why families turn a blind eye to such pain may be the first step in breaking the cycle and preventing further harm.

The Weight of Societal Expectations

Sexual abuse is a truth that many are unwilling to face. Society, with its ever-present pressure to maintain an image of perfection and normalcy, often discourages open dialogue about such horrors. This societal silence breeds shame—shame that the victim carries alone, as if somehow responsible for the atrocity that was forced upon them. It’s a shame that is deeply ingrained, a barrier to speaking out, because to speak would be to confront a truth that many would rather not acknowledge.

The Fear of Shattering the Family Unit

For many, the very idea of exposing sexual abuse within the family feels like the ultimate betrayal. The fear is not just of the abuser, but of the fracture it may cause within the family—a bond that is expected to remain unbroken, no matter the cost. In cultures that value unity above all else, even the most heinous of secrets are kept locked away, under the false belief that exposing them will tear the family apart. The fear is that, in revealing the truth, the family will be irreparably damaged. And so, the silence persists, as those who suffer are left to shoulder the burden alone, often at the cost of their own mental and emotional well-being.

Denial: A Family’s Quiet Defense

When a victim does gather the strength to speak, too often their words are met with disbelief, dismissal, or even outright denial. Family members, unable or unwilling to confront the horrifying reality, minimize the abuse, convincing themselves that it couldn’t possibly be true. This denial is a form of self-preservation, a desperate attempt to keep the family unit intact. But it comes at a great cost—the victim is left in isolation, their pain dismissed, and their story unheard. The result is a toxic environment that fosters anger, hopelessness, and despair, as the victim is forced to navigate a world where their truth is not only ignored but rejected by those who should be their greatest source of support.

The Path to Healing and Prevention

It is a tragic reality that sexual abuse, so often ignored or swept under the rug, leaves scars that last long after the physical wounds have healed. But by understanding why families choose to ignore or minimize this abuse, we can begin to heal—not just as individuals, but as communities. Education is key. By fostering an environment where survivors are believed, supported, and understood, we can challenge the silence that allows abuse to thrive.

When we recognize the signs, both of potential abusers and of the subtle signs of abuse itself, we empower ourselves to act. By standing with survivors, by breaking the cycle of shame and denial, we can create a safer world—a world where silence no longer protects the guilty, and where the voices of those who have suffered are finally heard.r world a safer place for everyone involved – survivors included!