11.13.21 when did I become my boys, living in a home strewn with eggshells? Published 1/6/23

Epigenetics and Tik Tok videos…ancestral wounds. Talking with my mom about her egg that turned into me being formed while she was in my grandmother’s belly, DNA, It’s time to break this vicious cycle. Those sweet boys deserve this, I deserve this, my parents deserve this. It happened yet the lessons I’ve learned have made me so much stronger, so much wiser. My parents aren’t perfect—they’re all too human, but I know they love me fiercely and it was never intentional.

Just like I would never intentionally hurt my boys, yet when it’s what you know and you don’t realize it’s not normal, it’s all too easy to repeat the same pattern. Watching this Tik Tok made me so uncomfortable, my shoulders tense, folding into myself, trying to become smaller, invisible. Bracing myself for the barrage headed my way. Sometimes I fought back, our fights escalating, words flung with barbed arrows. Who can inflict the most damage, who will back down first? Nature has her thunderstorms, so why shouldn’t relationships be the same? After they pass, the air is cleared, the tension gone, the cloying, heavy charge gone. We talk about it and forget the horrible things we said to each other, the physicality. They didn’t mean it, and everything is okay now.

Until next time the floor is littered with eggshells…