The Cost of Not Knowing Yourself

Last week, we talked about how we repurpose the patterns we learned in childhood. This week, we’re adding to the chaos (pun intended), now ask yourself, how those repurposed patterns hold us in spaces and relationships that make everything worse. How we add to our own baggage. At some point it is important to acknowledge what we have lived through but also start taking accountability for our part, at some point, to grow, you have to shift from blaming others to owning your journey and holding yourself accountable for your part. Yes, once we are adults, we absolutely must take ownership for our part. It’s time to start dragging the dirty laundry out of the suitcase you’re totting around. Leave it!

I want to be clear, by taking ownership it doesn’t mean that what has happened to you is ok, it doesn’t mean it didn’t impact you, or that it didn’t add tax to your story. Everything we go through impacts us. In a lot of ways, it can never disappear. It’s important to recognize, because our experiences do shape us. You’re probably wondering how you just throw it out of the suitcase and leave it… We will get there, growing is a process, and one that takes a lot of mindfulness. Quick fixes do not fixing anything, so you have to unpack one article of hurt at a time.

This week, I want to talk about how I landed myself in an emotionally abusive marriage, and how I stayed. Even when I saw the red flags. Even when I knew I needed to leave. Even when every part of me screamed, run far and fast.

I stayed because I believed I was the problem. And the truth is, I wasn’t the only one who told me that.

Before this marriage, I dated a string of men, not many, but enough, they all insisted I needed help. In some ways, they were right. I hadn’t found myself. I was searching for safety and love through them. I was young and trying to replace what I had lost. But the people I chose weren’t right for the job. They added to the chaos. They grabbed their shovels and helped me dig my hole deeper. And let me tell you, two people with shovels digs the hole deeper quickly!

My anxiety was rising, but not yet fully surfaced.

I stayed in a marriage that fed my mind with every reason I was wrong, dumb, uneducated, overweight, poor, unsuccessful. All of these sweet nothings came from the person I loved, the person who said he “saved me from my trailer‑park family.” Words matter. We pretend they don’t. We say we don’t care. But underneath the surface, those words are absorbed into our soul. They become part of our DNA. We begin believing what we’re told. We believe we are not good enough.

There is always a moment in time when we realize we weren’t nearly as strong as we insisted we were. A tough pill to swallow.

Looking back, I see how heavy my ex‑husband’s words were, heavier than I allowed myself to admit, because other people in my life had also made comments about who I would be, who I would become. And those comments were always tied to my mother’s poor behavior.

Last week, I shared that I found home in my mother. But I also attached my identity to her. I have held onto that identity because part of me wants to keep her here. But in doing that, I cannot grow into who I am supposed to be(come).

I am my mother’s daughter, that DNA is strong. Our sense of humor and zest for life is uniquely ours. But in so many ways, I am not her. Not even close. And I don’t want to be. I spent my life trying to right all of her wrongs, a task that felt like trudging through sinking sand. A heavy walk. But one I continued anyway.

When I finally reached my breaking point with my now ex‑husband and decided to leave. I made pennies compared to him. We were drowning in debt. We had an almost two‑year‑old son, it was December … and I was done. So done that I was ready to leave behind our second-hand Christmas tree being held up by his workout weights, and live under a bridge if that’s what it took. Our marriage had destroyed me (or so I thought). It took me places I never imagined going. I developed terrible coping skills, yes, worse than the ones I already had.

I had been a student of his manipulation, so at least I was prepared for the war I was about to face.

One thing I know for sure, some people are predictable. Especially those who manipulate. If you watch closely, their words change, their technique shifts just a little, but their strategy stays the same. You learn skills you never wanted. Your anxiety stays in high gear. Survival becomes your default. You learn to move your chess piece first just to stay alive.

So why am I sharing all of this? Why does it matter? When you step back and look at the full picture, you begin to see the truth, becoming isn’t just about healing what happened to you. It’s about recognizing how you’ve carried those experiences with you, and yes, that means from one relationship to the next. To become you have to start seeing how repurposed patterns kept you in places that made everything worse. How familiar chaos, even if slightly different, convinced you to stay. How the search for safety led you into the arms of people who were never capable of giving it.

This isn’t about blame. This is about awareness.

Because the moment you realize you’ve been adding to your own baggage, even unintentionally, is the moment everything shifts. You stop asking, “Why is this happening to me?” and start asking, “How have I been participating in this?” That question is uncomfortable, but it is also the doorway to becoming.

I stayed in an emotionally abusive marriage because it felt familiar. I believed I was the problem because others had said it before. I carried my mother’s identity like a badge and a burden. I tried to right her wrongs while creating my own. I repurposed my childhood patterns into adult relationships and called it love. I dug my own hole, and others helped me dig deeper.

You cannot grow if you keep repeating what broke you. You cannot heal if you keep calling chaos home. You cannot become if you keep holding onto an identity that was never yours.

I’m sure you’re asking, where do I even begin, so let me give you some tips.

What are your patterns? Do you choose emotionally unavailable partners or stay in friendships long after they’ve expired. Do you ignore red flags? Do you over give to earn love, to feel worthy? Does chaos feel like love because it’s all you’ve ever known? Do you stay or chase what feels familiar because you already know the end result?

Ask yourself: Where did I learn this? Or maybe WHY did I learn this? Was it from a parent, sibling, a family member, or early relationship? Maybe think about how certain behaviors kept you safe, or at least the smoke and mirrors version of safe.

What are you willing to trade for love? For approval? For safety? I hope you’re writing all of this down…because becoming is hard, letting go is hard…it takes time and effort to build self-awareness.  

Next week, we’ll dive into the aftermath of leaving and the moment I realized I was sinking. I am going to be very honest about how I made changes, because it was messy. It looked like chaos, but transformation was not, and is not, linear. You have to remember that change is extremely uncomfortable. The reason why we fail is because we think we can just decide to change and that’s it; we wake up January 1st a new person. That isn’t how change works. It’s holding yourself accountable. It’s about slipping but quickly catching yourself. Or, in my case, face‑planting in the quicksand and having to figure out how to pull myself out.

But anyway,

Cara