There’s a part of me that still flinches at kindness, a part that braces for disappointment even when nothing bad is happening. I’ve learned to call it what it is… survival.
When you have been hurt, betrayed, or made to feel small, your mind learns to protect you in ways you don’t always understand. It can build walls that are disguised as independence. It can grow thorns where there used to be softness. It convinces you that being guarded is the same as being safe.
But recently, I’ve learned to sit with the uncomfortable truth that some of those walls are keeping out the very peace I’ve been praying for.
There are moments where my anger scares me. Not because it’s violent, but because it’s deep. It comes from all the years I silenced myself, from all the times I was made to believe that being kind meant being quiet. That forgiveness meant erasing my pain. I know now that anger isn’t the enemy. It’s the body’s way of saying, “I deserve better.”
Still, there’s a tenderness underneath it all that never really went away. The part of me that still loves deeply, forgives easily, and wants to believe that people can change. Sometimes I get frustrated with that part. She feels a little too naive, too trusting, too hopeful… But I think she’s the truest version of me. The one who existed before the world tried to harden me.
The truth is, I’m both.
I’m the walls and the softness. The fire and the grace. The girl who still gets angry, but also the one who keeps choosing love anyway.
Healing isn’t about erasing your defenses. It’s about learning when you don’t need them anymore. It’s about recognizing that your strength comes from survival, but your peace will come from release.
You are not broken.
You are human.
The fact that you still love…
After everything that tried to make you stop…
That…that right there says everything about who you are.
