SHE GREW UP FIGHTING FOR A LIFE SHE NEVER CHOSE

She never got the chance to be soft.

She was born into a war she didn’t start and made to carry wounds that weren’t hers.

She didn’t have a mother to run to when the world was too loud.

She didn’t have arms that wrapped around her when she needed to cry.

She didn’t have a home that felt like safety only spaces she tiptoed through, hoping not to trigger anger or disappointment.

From the moment she could speak, she had to learn how to survive.

Not in the movies. Not in someone else’s story.

In real life.

While other kids played, she learned how to read moods.

She learned how to say “I’m okay” even when she wasn’t.

She learned to be quiet, to make herself small, to not ask for too much because asking meant getting ignored, or worse, punished.

She was defenseless, yet expected to be responsible.

She was a child, yet expected to act like she knew better.

No one protected her.

So she became her own protector.

Her own mother. Her own voice. Her own shield.

But what people forget is this:

When you grow up raising yourself, something inside you stays wounded.

No matter how strong you look, that inner child still whispers, “I wish someone had stayed. I wish someone had loved me first.”

And then life went on.

She grew up.

But she wasn’t ready.

How could she be?

No one taught her how to dream only how to survive.

No one taught her to trust herself only to work harder, be better, prove her worth.

She watched her peers have parents who showed up for them.

People to help with school, with life, with dreams.

People to do for them while she fought every inch of her life just to stay afloat.

She didn’t have that.

She was that for herself.

She became a mother herself and this time, she swore things would be different.

She wouldn’t let her child grow up like she did.

She wouldn’t let her child cry themselves to sleep.

She wouldn’t let them question their worth, or feel unloved, or carry wounds they never deserved.

But being a cycle-breaker is lonely.

It’s exhausting.

It’s the hardest path of all.

She still had to fight through her own trauma.

Still had to keep bleeding from the past while pretending she was whole in the present.

Still had to cook, clean, love, parent with a heart that was still shattered.

And just when she thinks the breakthrough is coming

Just when things feel like maybe, finally, something is shifting…

Life flips again.

The rug gets pulled.

The door slams shut.

She’s back at zero.

Again.

Two minutes from peace, and everything falls apart.

Two steps from the light, and the storm returns.

It’s cruel.

It’s tiring.

But she still doesn’t quit.

Because she can’t afford to.

She’s got babies watching.

She’s got generations waiting on her healing.

She’s got a soul that refuses to give up even when her heart wants to.

She prays.

She pleads.

She asks God why.

Not in anger but in confusion.

“Why does it feel like everyone else has someone, and I only have pain?”

“Why do I fight so hard just to stay standing while others are lifted, protected, held?”

“How long must I bleed before I’m healed?”

But she still prays.

She still hopes.

She still fights.

Not because it’s easy but because there’s something inside her that knows she was made for more.

To the world, she’s just another struggling woman.

Another tired mom. Another face in the crowd.

But if they looked deeper…

They’d see the warrior.

The one who raised herself and is now raising someone better.

The one who never had a childhood, yet is giving her child a whole new world.

The one who was dropped, forgotten, left behind yet still stands with grace and fire.

She is the story of survival.

She is the proof that pain can birth purpose.

She is the motherless child who became the safe place she never had.

And yes she still bleeds.

Yes she still doubts.

Still cries.

Still aches.

But she keeps going.

Because she’s not just trying to survive anymore.

She’s trying to build a life her children won’t have to recover from.

She’s trying to be the miracle she never got.

And if no one ever says it to her let this be the moment:

You are seen.

You are strong.

You are enough.

And even though it hurts you are doing a damn good job