There was a moment in this conversation that stayed with me.
Not because it was dramatic…but because it felt familiar in a way that’s hard to explain.
The moment you stop waiting.
When you’re a child, there’s this natural belief that someone will come.
That someone will notice.
Step in.
Make things better.
And then, sometimes, there’s a shift.
Not all at once.
But slowly.
You start to understand that it’s not coming.
And something in you adjusts.
You become more aware.
More careful.
More capable.
You learn how to take care of yourself in ways you shouldn’t have to yet.
From the outside, it can look like strength.
Independence.
Resilience.
And it is.
But it’s also something else.
Because when you grow up that way, you don’t just learn how to survive.
You learn how to do it alone.
And that’s the part that tends to stay.
Long after things are different.
Long after you’re safe.
There’s still a part of you that defaults back to that knowing.
I can only rely on myself.
Unlearning that is its own kind of work.
Not replacing it.
Not forcing something new.
Just slowly noticing it… and allowing something else to exist alongside it.
This conversation didn’t try to fix that.
It just gave it space.
And sometimes, that’s where things start to shift.
Until next time,
Jenn
🎧 You can listen to my full conversation with Amanda here:
The Shadows We Cast: Inheritance
