Breaking Cycles

Breaking Cycles:

We don’t just inherit eye color and cheekbones.
We inherit patterns.
The way people talk, or don’t talk.
How they handle stress, anger, money, and love.

Some of us grow up in homes filled with unspoken rules:
“Don’t rock the boat.”
“Keep the secrets.”
“Family first… no matter what.”

But what happens when “family first” means putting yourself last?
What happens when the people who were supposed to protect you are the ones causing the harm?

That’s where breaking cycles begins.

How Dysfunction Gets Passed Down Through Generations

Dysfunction rarely starts with us. It usually starts long before we were born.

A parent who shuts down emotionally often learned that from their parents.
A grandparent who numbs with alcohol may have been trying to escape their own trauma.
A family that never apologizes may have never seen apologies modeled.

Researchers have shown that:

• Children who grow up in homes with abuse, addiction, or untreated mental illness are significantly more likely to experience those same issues as adults or repeat similar patterns in their own relationships.

• Exposure to “adverse childhood experiences” (ACEs) like emotional abuse, physical neglect, and household substance use is linked to higher risks of depression, anxiety, chronic illness, and substance use later in life.

Even if we don’t want to repeat what we saw, our nervous system, our beliefs, and our sense of “normal” are shaped by it.
If yelling is normal, silence feels scary.
If chaos is normal, calm feels suspicious.
If walking on eggshells is normal, setting boundaries feels selfish or “mean.”

This is how dysfunction quietly travels from one generation to the next:
not because we’re bad people, but because we’re wounded people who haven’t yet learned another way.

Why It’s So Hard to Break the Cycle

If breaking cycles were easy, the world would look very different.

Here’s why it’s so hard:

1. Loyalty vs. Self-Protection
   Many of us are taught that “family is everything.” So when we start to question harmful patterns, we feel guilt, shame, and fear.
   Am I a bad daughter if I say no?
   Am I ungrateful if I step back?
   That internal war between loyalty and self-protection is exhausting.

2. The Fear of Being Alone
   Even the most painful family dynamic is still familiar. And familiar can feel safer than the unknown.
   Walking away from or redefining family roles can feel like walking into a dark room without a flashlight.
   “If I draw this line… who will I have?”

3. The Stories We Were Told About Ourselves
   Dysfunctional families often label people:

   • The “problem child”

   • The “sensitive one”

   • The “strong one” who never needs help
     When we try to change, those old labels echo in our heads.
     “Who do you think you are?”
     “You’re too dramatic.”
     “You’re the one who always causes problems.”

4. No One Showed Us How
   You can’t use tools you’ve never been given.
   If you never saw healthy conflict, how are you supposed to know how to handle it?
   If you never saw boundaries, how are you supposed to set them?

5. Grieving the Family You Wish You Had
   Breaking cycles means accepting that some things might never be the way you hoped.
   That grief is real and heavy.
   You’re not just changing patterns; you’re mourning the version of your family that lived in your heart.

A Short Story of Breaking a Cycle

I remember the day I realized I was repeating my childhood without even meaning to.

I had promised myself growing up: “I will never make anyone feel as small as I felt.”
But one afternoon, after a long week, I snapped.

The smallest thing went wrong, and I exploded- sharp words, raised voice, that same heavy, icy silence afterward. The same silence I grew up in.

Later that night, I sat alone on the edge of my bed, replaying the moment. I didn’t recognize myself, but at the same time, I did.
I heard my own words and felt like I was hearing my parent’s voice come out of my mouth.

I could feel two truths tugging at me:

• “You’re a horrible person. You’re just like them.”

• “You’re a human who’s hurting and repeating what you were taught.”

For the first time, instead of drowning in shame or pretending it didn’t happen, I let myself be honest:

Something has to change.
And that something… is me.

Not because it was my fault.
But because it was now my responsibility.

So I did something I had never seen growing up.
I apologized.
Not with excuses, not with blame-shifting. Just:

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I am working on doing better, and I’m going to get help.”

That moment didn’t magically heal everything.
But it was the first crack in a very thick, very old wall.

The Work It Takes

Breaking cycles isn’t a cute quote on Instagram. It’s holy, tiring, messy work.

Some of that work looks like:

• Therapy or counseling - sitting with a professional and saying out loud things your family never allowed you to name.

• Learning the language of boundaries - phrases like:

  • “I’m not available for that conversation.”

  • “If you continue to yell, I’m going to hang up.”

  • “That comment is hurtful. Please don’t speak to me that way.”

• Choosing not to engage - you don’t have to attend every argument you’re invited to.

• Re-parenting yourself - giving yourself the care, kindness, and safety you didn’t get as a child.

• Letting people be disappointed - allowing others to have their feelings without letting their disapproval control your choices.

It’s not a one-time decision; it’s a daily choice.
Sometimes it’s a daily fight.

There will be days you feel strong and clear.
There will be days you cry in the shower and question everything.
Both count. Both are part of the journey.

The Freedom It Gives

Here’s the beauty: the same work that feels heavy at first eventually becomes lighter than the weight you’ve carried your whole life.

Breaking cycles brings freedom like:

• You stop living in constant survival mode. You realize not every disagreement is a war.

• You stop tiptoeing around other people’s emotions. Their anger is theirs to manage, not yours to absorb.

• You start feeling safe in your own body. Your nervous system slowly learns what calm feels like.

• You begin to make choices based on love and wisdom - not fear and obligation.

You may still feel waves of grief. You may still feel that old pull to go back to the familiar.
But with each boundary, each honest conversation, each compassionate choice for yourself, you take one more step away from the storm-and one more step toward peace.

And that peace doesn’t just stop with you.
It flows into your friendships, your relationships, your work, and yes, into the next generation.

“Family First”… and the Truth About Chosen Family

We hear “family first” so often that it can start to sound like a law.

But here’s the truth:
“Family first” should never mean abuse first, silence first, or betrayal first.

Sometimes the bravest, healthiest thing you can do is redefine what “family” means.

Family can be:

• The sister who holds your hand while you cry in the car.

• The friend who texts, “Did you eat today?”

• The mentor who looks you in the eye and says, “You deserve better than this.”

• The support group, the church community, the recovery circle that says, “We get it. You are not crazy. You are not alone.”

Blood may be where you started.
But it does not have to be where you stay.

You are allowed to:

• Love people from a distance.

• Step back from toxic dynamics.

• Choose safety over tradition.

• Build a new family made of people who see you, honor you, and choose you back.

Lean on Your Sisters

If you’re trying to break cycles, please hear this:
You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.

Lean on your sisters.
Your biological sisters, your soul sisters, your recovery sisters, your faith sisters.

Lean on the ones who:

• Remind you who you are when you forget.

• Pray for you when you can’t find the words.

• Sit with you in the messy middle, not just the happy ending.

• Celebrate the tiny victories: the boundary you kept, the phone call you didn’t return, the argument you chose not to have.

Sisterhood is borrowed courage.
When your strength is low, you can borrow some of theirs until yours returns.

Do It for You (and the Ones Who Come After You)

It’s easy to say, “I’ll do it for my kids” or “I’ll do it for the next generation.”
And yes, they deserve that healed version of you.

But you deserve it too.

Do it for the little version of you who never felt safe.
Do it for the teenager who thought, “Once I’m grown, I’ll finally be free,” and then found the patterns following them into adulthood.
Do it for the you who is tired of pretending everything is fine.

Breaking cycles is not about blaming or hating your family.
It’s about telling the truth:

“This ends with me.”

It’s about choosing healing over hiding, truth over tradition, and love over loyalty to pain.

You may be the first in your family to go to therapy, to apologize, to say, “We don’t talk to each other like that anymore.”
That doesn’t make you the problem.
That makes you the pioneer.

And pioneers don’t walk easy roads - but they create new ones.

So as you do this work - shaking, scared, brave, imperfect, remember:

• You are not alone.

• You are allowed to create your own definition of family.

• You are allowed to choose peace over chaos.

• You are allowed to heal.

Lean on your sisters.
Lean on your faith.
Lean into the work.

And most of all
Do it for you.
Because you are worth the healing you’re fighting for.