Queen of Bad Habits

If anybody’s the queen of bad habits … it’s me. It may sound funny, but truly - it’s not.

As a child, I was smart, quick, confident, and athletic. Then I was placed with “her” and she broke down the part of me that was just entering the phase in childhood where one needs encouragement, support, and love. Instead, I was met with anger, hate, disregard, and shame.

So I pivoted.
I learned to protect.
To notice.
To read the room.
To survive.

Maybe I learned that even earlier - because my dad would leave me with strangers, and I was always on guard, awaiting his return. And when he came back, I could be me again. My true self. Because he was my safe place, and I knew he loved me.

But this time, he didn’t come back.

Days turned into weeks.
Weeks into months.
Months into years.

Adaptation became observation.
Observation became survival.

I stayed quiet. I obliged. I waited. I counted down the days until I turned sixteen, because I knew that was the age you could leave. But I didn’t make it to sixteen.

I left at fourteen.

You don’t leave unchanged at fourteen.

Not many understand what that does to a person.

It rewires the mind. The body. The nervous system.

And sometimes what people call “bad habits” are just exits - isolation, control, adrenaline, booze, drugs - anything that slows the noise long enough to untangle the mind one strand at a time.

Because my mind doesn’t stop.

Memories.
Analysis.
Questions.
Reflection.
Self-criticism.
Shame.
Guilt.
Feelings that run through my nerves.

So I quiet it.

And in those moments, I allow myself to be seen - by me.
I let myself feel proud.
I let myself soften.
I remind myself how far I’ve come.
I let myself do what makes my heart sing.

Because I’ve earned it.
I fought for it.

The only person who could ever put me on trial is me. And I threw that case out a long time ago.

Now I can finally exhale.