I Am Here. I Am Whole. I Am Enough.

For the first time in my life, I can feel these words settling into my bones, not just something to say, but something that finally feels real to me.

It’s taken so many years to get here, so long that I didn’t even realize how deep that old belief had sunk in, the one that said I wasn’t enough, that there was something wrong with me that made me unlovable.

Abandonment from the very beginning can do that to you.

It can convince you that if the people who were supposed to love you the most didn’t want you, then there must be something in you that can’t be loved at all.

But I see it differently now.

I know that healing is possible, even if it doesn’t look like a perfect fix.

It doesn’t erase what came before, it doesn’t make the past feel any less heavy, but it opens up a space inside me that wasn’t there before, a place where I can stand and feel that I belong to myself.

And that’s what matters most.

It isn’t an easy road, it’s messy and painful and there are days I still wonder if I’ll ever really trust it, but it’s worth it.

It’s worth it for the peace I feel in my own body.

It’s worth it because I know now that I don’t have to be anyone’s emotional ATM, and I don’t have to keep trying to prove my worth to people who couldn’t see it.

If you’re reading this and carrying that same old ache, the one that tells you you’re too much or too little or too broken to be loved, let these words be a gentle reminder that you don’t have to earn your place in this world.

You are here, and you’re allowed to take up space.
You are whole, even with the parts of you that are still healing.
You are enough, always.

-Maria

Boundaries with Family: The Hardest Lines to Draw

Boundaries with family can feel like betrayal. They can feel like you are breaking an unspoken contract to keep the peace at any cost. But here is the truth: family is not an excuse to erase yourself.

For many of us, boundaries were never taught. They simply did not exist in the world we grew up in. It was just how things were: you gave up parts of yourself because there was no room to be fully seen. You learned to keep the peace by disappearing.

Boundaries with family are about saying, “I am here, and I am allowed to take up space, even if it makes you uncomfortable.” They are about learning to protect what is real for you, not what is convenient for everyone else.

Here are some ways to start:

• Name what is yours and what is not -  You do not have to carry the weight of other people’s expectations or disappointments.

• Start small - Boundaries do not have to be loud or dramatic. A quiet “no” is enough.

• Hold the line, even when it is hard -  Family will push back. That does not mean you are wrong to draw the line.

• Stay grounded in your own truth -  Remind yourself: you are allowed to have needs, even if no one taught you how.

• Remember that boundaries are not cruelty -  They are care for yourself, and for the relationships you want to keep real.

Journal Prompts:

• What boundary with family feels most impossible to set?

• What would it feel like to choose myself in that moment?

• What is the cost of not setting this boundary?

Affirmations:

• My needs matter, even in family.

• I do not have to trade my peace for their comfort.

• I can say no with love and still be whole.

• I am allowed to have limits, even if they are not understood

• My boundaries keep me safe. That is enough

• I am allowed to respond to others in my own time.

• I am allowed to not explain myself if I do not want to.

• I am allowed to choose what I prefer, even if my family disagrees

• I am allowed to give myself the space I need to feel peace.

I grew up in a world where no one had boundaries. No one taught them to me, and I never saw them practiced. Writing this is a way of reminding myself that I can choose them now, even if it feels unnatural.

-Maria

Recognizing the Hidden Effects of Abandonment Trauma

 When you have been abandoned emotionally, physically, or both, it leaves marks that are not always visible at first.

You might not have called it abandonment.

 You might have simply known this:

 The love, safety, and care you needed were not there.

 And somewhere deep inside, that absence shaped the way you learned to survive.

Here are some early signs you might be carrying abandonment wounds, even if you did not realize it until now:

• You fear people leaving you, even when they have not given a reason.
• You shrink yourself to be easy or less needy.
• You struggle to trust that someone's love or care is real.
• You feel you have to earn your place in people's lives.
• You feel deep shame when you make a mistake.
• You either attach quickly or pull away before someone can hurt you.
• You have trouble asking for help or emotional support.
• You often feel like an outsider, even around people you know.
• You overwork, over-give, or over-perform to prove your worth.
• You fear being a burden, so you try to handle everything alone.

I have personally identified with every one of these signs at different points throughout most of my life.  You are not alone if you see yourself here. These patterns are not a reflection of who you are. They are the echoes of what you have been through.

Sometimes, the deeper wound underneath it all is this:

Not trusting others because, deep down, you do not fully trust that you are worthy of being loved in the first place.

 When you have been abandoned, it is easy to believe that love is something you have to earn, and almost impossible to believe it could just be given freely, without conditions.

If you recognize yourself in any of these signs, you are not broken, and you are not alone.

The truth is, abandonment wounds run deep.

They shape the way we see ourselves, the way we move through the world, and the way we connect with others.

 Understanding where these patterns come from is a powerful first step. You did not cause the wounds. But you get to decide what happens now.

You learned to survive what hurt you.  Now you are learning to survive what healing asks of you too.

This part is messy.

 It is supposed to be.

 Keep going.

You are already doing the hardest part, seeing it.

-Maria

This is where it began

The wound might look different for each of us, but the ache of abandonment has a way of echoing through everything.

My abandonment wound didn’t come from one moment.
It came from growing up without the people who were supposed to be there.

I had a place to stay, but it never felt like there was space for me.
The adults around me were wrapped up in their own stress, their own lives.
I wasn’t seen. I wasn’t nurtured. I was just… there.
Something to manage. Something to get through.

Not because they were cruel, but because they were overwhelmed.

And when you grow up in that kind of environment, you learn to take up less space.
You stop asking for things.
You start to believe that needing love or attention makes you a burden.

But even as a kid, I understood I was alone. And that kind of loneliness changes you.

It follows you.
It stays in your body, in your relationships, in the way you brace for someone to leave before they even do.
It teaches you not to expect much. It convinces you that you’re the problem.

You end up carrying it for years, believing you’re unworthy, unlovable, defective, or just too hard to care for.
You stop trusting anyone with the real you.
Not because you don’t want closeness, but because deep down, you’re still waiting for them to disappear too.

That’s where mine started.

But abandonment doesn’t always come from the same place.
It can come from a parent who was there but cold.
A partner who slowly stopped trying.
A family that expected you to smile and stay quiet instead of needing anything real.
It can come from being ignored until you stopped reaching out altogether.

Abandonment wounds are real. They don’t just go away.
They show up in how you protect yourself.
In how hard it is to ask for help.
In the way love feels complicated or unsafe.

You might see it in the way you:
• Apologize for needing anything
• Stay in situations that leave you empty
• Overthink every silence
• Feel safer alone, but still hope someone will stay
• Try to act like you don’t care, when deep down, you really do

If any of this sounds familiar, I want you to know:
You’re not the only one who felt forgotten.
You’re not too much.
You’re not a burden.
And none of this was your fault.

You’re allowed to:
• Be angry about what you didn’t get
• Stop trying to earn love
• Want softness, care, and consistency
• Show up as you are
• Heal without explaining every part of your story

Affirmation to hold:
I am not hard to love.
I don’t have to prove I’m worth keeping.
I deserve care, affection, and support.
The pain I carry matters. And I’m allowed to heal.

This is where mine began.
But wherever yours started, you’re welcome here too.
You don’t have to carry it alone.

Some wounds don’t go away just because we grow up. But healing is still possible. That’s where I am now.

-Maria