Relearning Safety: the Little Girl Who Smiled Through It All

I remember the smile.

The one I wore to be the perfect little girl— the one who didn’t cause a stir, who spoke only when spoken to.

The one who learned early that being quiet and agreeable was safer than being seen.

I was nurtured by my grandma’s steady hands and comforted by the unconditional love of my first dog — small anchors of safety in an uncertain world.

As I grew, the quiet little girl became a youth with darkness in her eyes, heaviness in her soul, and a busy, worrying mind.

That sweet smile eventually became a mask — one that hid pain, confusion, and the deep ache of being unseen.

From that place of brokenness, I’ve spent years rebuilding who I am.

Years of reminding myself that my responsibility is not to please everyone around me, but to care for myself and my family in the most authentic way possible — without losing sight of who I truly am.

Feelings of being not enough or undeserving come easily when a birth parent doesn’t show up for you.

That absence leaves questions that echo for years — questions about worth, love, and belonging.

My journey has been long and hard.

Marked by deep depression, anxiety, misunderstanding, grief, and loss — and yet, also by resilience.

Through all of it, I’ve been rebuilding.

Relearning what safety feels like.

Relearning what love truly means.

And most importantly, learning to extend the same care and safety to myself that I once tried to create for everyone else.

Because healing isn’t about becoming who I was before the pain — it’s about becoming who I was meant to be all along.

If this resonates with you…

I hope this reaches even one person who grew up witnessing domestic violence, who learned to survive through perfection and control — the one who carried too much, too soon.

You are welcome here.

You are safe here.

You are not alone.