“For God is not a God of confusion but of peace…” — 1 Corinthians 14:33
Sitting here, reflecting on my family—who they are, who they’ve been—in comparison to who I am, who I’ve been, and who I’m growing to be… I feel an inner conflict within myself.
And not in a bad way.
But in a way that makes me sit still a little longer.
Think a little deeper.
Feel a little heavier.
Because what do you do when you’ve grown to believe that you are someone who values family—family values, the core of what family should be—while being raised in a family that has no real family orientation at all?
I found myself thinking back to one of my therapy sessions. I remember asking, Why?
Why do I continue to deal with people who hurt me?
Why would I want to be a part of something so toxic?
And if I’m being honest…
that question didn’t come from a place of curiosity.
It came from exhaustion.
Out of all the questions I’ve asked myself about my choices—when it comes to family, friends, people, places, things… just my decision-making in general—it kept coming back to one thing:
The fear of rejection.
Not just being rejected…
but being left.
Being unwanted.
Being the one who doesn’t belong.
So here I am, sitting in this space of inner conflict.
Because on one hand, I am very family-oriented. I believe in family. I believe in connection, in love, in growing together. I grew up surrounded by my cousins. We had gatherings, we spent time together, we were always around each other. That was my norm.
It was loud.
It was full.
It was consistent.
And I thought that was normal.
But as I’ve gotten older, and as I’ve begun to process the different hurts—some I spoke about, some I carried quietly—I’ve had to make an intentional decision:
I don’t want to be a part of a dysfunctional norm.
And that decision… has cost me.
It has placed me on an island.
An island I created.
Lonely—but peaceful.
And some days… that loneliness is loud.
So what do you do when you believe in family, when you want to be a part of your family, but your family continuously causes hurt?
For a while, I tried to find a middle ground. I told myself I would handle my family in a way that allowed me to still be present… but also protect my peace.
Shrink a little here.
Stay quiet a little there.
Don’t react. Don’t say too much. Don’t feel too deeply.
Just enough of me… but never all of me.
But what do you do when the reality is…
you keep trying to place yourself into a family that doesn’t even like you?
When their intent toward you doesn’t feel safe…
and sometimes even feels malicious?
What do you do with that kind of truth?
The kind you can’t unsee once you see it.
How do you calm the conflict between what you believe… and what your reality actually is?
Because those two don’t align anymore.
As I continue to grow and attempt to unwire what was wired into me from childhood—learning to identify what’s normal and what’s not—I find myself in a constant back-and-forth.
A tug-of-war between loyalty…
and healing.
Years ago, I learned to remove titles from people.
Not because I didn’t value the person or the role—mom, dad, sister, brother, aunt, cousin, friend—but because of the expectations that come with those titles.
And those expectations… can quietly break your heart.
I remember when I shifted my perspective about my mom. A lot of the internal hurt I was carrying came from trying to hold her to the title of Mom.
To what I believed a mom should be.
To what I needed her to be.
But when I accepted that before she was “Mom,” she was simply Tania—a person with her own experiences, flaws, wounds, and limitations—it became easier to accept her.
Not excuse.
Not ignore.
But accept.
It didn’t take away the hurt.
Because let’s be honest—you still want people to do right by you.
You still want to be loved correctly.
But it helped me release the weight of expectation.
Because she’s just Tania.
A person.
Who happens to be my mom.
And once I applied that concept to her, it became easier to apply it to everyone else.
Not as a fix-all… because expectations don’t just disappear.
But it softened the fall when those expectations weren’t met.
Now I find myself in a season where real-life decisions are forcing this internal conflict to the surface.
If I choose what’s good for me—what I believe in, what aligns with who I am becoming—someone in my family is going to have a problem with it.
Me choosing myself.
Me choosing certain friendships.
Me choosing certain people.
And because I value family so deeply, it creates this back-and-forth within me:
How are they going to feel?
How will this be perceived?
What is this going to cause?
And then the other side of me—the side that’s healing—says:
Why does it matter?
My family doesn’t value me the way I value them.
Why would I continue to live my life seeking approval that I’ve never truly had?
And even though I know that…
It still hurts.
Because here’s the truth I’m learning:
Sometimes choosing yourself—even when it’s necessary—doesn’t feel powerful.
It feels painful.
It feels like grief.
It feels like loss.
It feels like you’re letting go of something you always hoped would one day feel different.
Because when you’ve spent your life putting others before yourself, choosing yourself feels unfamiliar… almost like betrayal.
But in reality…
Putting everyone else before you was the real betrayal.
A betrayal of self.
And now, here I am—trying to unwire that.
Trying to be okay with choosing me.
Trying to sit in the discomfort of growth… without running back to what’s familiar.
Even when familiar feels easier.
Even when familiar feels less lonely.
Even if what’s familiar…
was never healthy for me to begin with.
And maybe… just maybe… peace was never meant to feel familiar at first.
Maybe it was always meant to feel like something you had to grow into.
Reflection Corner
- Am I holding people to a title… or seeing them for who they truly are?
- Where in my life am I shrinking just to stay connected?
- What am I afraid will happen if I fully choose myself?
- Is my desire for family rooted in love… or fear of rejection?
- What am I grieving that I haven’t fully acknowledged yet?
- What would it look like to create the kind of “family” I need, instead of forcing myself into one that hurts me?
Final Thoughts
Healing will have you questioning everything you once called normal.
It will have you redefining love.
Redefining family.
Redefining what you allow… and what you no longer make space for.
And the hardest part?
Sometimes the people you hoped would grow with you… don’t.
But that doesn’t make your growth wrong.
It makes it necessary.
You are not wrong for wanting peace.
You are not wrong for setting boundaries.
You are not wrong for choosing yourself—even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it’s lonely.
Because at some point, you have to decide:
Do I keep choosing what’s familiar…
or do I choose what’s healthy?
And for me…
I’m learning to choose what’s healthy.
Even if I have to stand alone while doing it.
And if I’m being honest…
I’m still learning.
Still learning how to choose me without over-explaining.
Still learning how to walk away without feeling guilty.
Still learning that peace doesn’t always come with people… sometimes it comes with distance.
And even in the conflict…
even in the loneliness…
I am choosing to honor who I am becoming.
On purpose.
With love always,
Tywaun