I am the cycle breaker

There was a moment when I looked around at my life and whispered:

“I can’t do this like they did.”

I didn’t say it out loud at first.
I didn’t want to dishonor my mom (she was strong).
But deep in my bones, I knew:
The yelling. The silence. The dysfunction. The survival mode.
The toxic love. The buried trauma. The pretending everything’s fine.
It had to stop.

Because now my son was watching me.

And suddenly, the weight of my choices didn’t just fall on my shoulders—it had the opportunity to spill into my bloodline.

That’s the thing about cycles.
They don’t care if you’re tired.
They don’t care if you meant well.
They’ll keep showing up—dressed in new clothes, disguised in new people—until someone stands up and says:

“No more. Not here. Not with me.”

And that someone was me.

I am the one God called to break what broke everyone else.
I am the one who will raise my children to know peace instead of chaos.
I chose therapy over silence.
Faith over fear.
Healing over hiding.

But can I be honest?
Breaking cycles hurts.

Because I had to grieve what I never had.
I had to stop calling dysfunction “normal.”
I had to parent myself while parenting my child.
I had to forgive people who never apologized.
I had to unlearn what I was taught at home that was soaked in pain.

But, I knew I couldn’t do this alone.

That’s where God came in.

He didn’t just patch my wounds—He performed open-heart surgery on my soul.
He didn’t just hand me a new chapter—He rewrote my entire book.
He didn’t just tell me to, “Break the cycle.”
He graciously said, “Let Me walk with you while you do it.”

Ezekiel 36:26 says:
“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”

That was His promise to me.
I am the woman who’s fighting to undo generations of pain.
I am the one saying, “God, I don’t even know what healthy looks like—but I want it. I’m ready.”

The process isn’t perfect.
I fell so many times.
But every day I wake up and choose to do better—I  am winning.

I’m changing the story.
I’m birthing a new legacy.
I’m making heaven proud.

The enemy hates it—because I am dangerous now.
I am no longer just surviving.
I’m surrendered.
I’m healing.
I’m choosing wholeness over comfort.

I am  the cycle breaker.
I am the one my bloodline has been waiting for.
I am not too damaged.
I am not too late.
And I am not doing this alone.

God is right here—in the kitchen, in the chaos, in the weeping, in the whispers.
He is near to the brokenhearted, and He is raising me up, brick by brick, moment by moment.

And one day…
My children will say, “I was raised by a woman who chose God over generational pain.”