I look at my daughter

 I look at my daughter and I see a chance to rewrite everything.

All the silence I was raised in, I’m replacing it with open and honest conversations.
All the shame I was taught to carry, I’m showing her how to let it go before it ever settles in.
All the times I was told to be quiet, be nice, don’t cause a scene, I’m teaching her that her voice is powerful and it deserves to be heard.

Because the cycle stops with me.

She won’t grow up thinking love is something she has to earn.
She won’t believe her worth is tied to how much she can give or how little space she takes up.
She won’t learn to bury her feelings just to make other people comfortable.

She will know boundaries. She will know rest. She will know self-respect.
And more than anything, she will know that she is already enough just as she is.

I’m not raising her to repeat what I went through.
I’m raising her to rise above it.

That’s how the healing begins. That’s how the curse breaks.

With her.
And with me choosing to do it differently every single day.