I used to think getting my children to church on time was proof that I was doing motherhood right. Looking back, I can see how often I sacrificed peace, autonomy, and connection for the appearance of being a “good family.” Healing taught me that love matters more than performance.

Healing didn’t happen the morning I wore red lipstick. Healing happened in every tiny decision that came before I walked out the door. Every time the old voice spoke… and I lovingly chose not to believe her.