I Came Here for Safety. I'm Leaving for Peace.

Right now, we’re two weeks away from moving, again.

I feel a mix of things. Anger, frustration, and annoyed about how this whole living situation played out. It’s been uncomfortable on so many levels. But I’m also grateful because it opened my eyes to a lot. I’m excited to move on, but I’m also scared. I have no idea what this next chapter is going to look like, or who’s going to help me with my son. At the same time, this move is 100% necessary and I'm looking forward to it.

Why I Came Here

We were good and stable before we got here. We had been in our apartment going on the third year until late 2023 to mid 2024, when things really started to change. Someone I cutoff, somehow, found out where we were staying and started harassing me. Showing up unannouced, uninvited, and overall causing chaos and making us feel... unsafe.

Plus with everything else going on, work stuff, me desperately trying to find my purpose, money stuff, life, I was just... overwhelmed. I was stressed out and needed room to breathe. I thought this was the best option to get me through a hard season.

So I packed the basics, and sold or gave away everything else. It was a hard decision to make because I felt like a failure. But at the same time, I had to remind myself of why I needed to do this. I needed a safe haven. A reset. A break. Something that would help.

I thought living with my grandmother, someone who helped raise me, and has always been there (sort of) to help me, would make sense.

I thought I’d feel supported. That things would be calm. That I could peacefully regroup.

I wanted a break from constantly doing everything by myself. I thought it made sense.

It didn’t. Well it did, but it didn't.

At first it seemed like it was going to work. For the first few months things were for the most part, cool, but that's not how it ultimately played out. Overall, it’s been the complete opposite. Mentally, emotionally, just day-to-day... it’s been draining. I didn't realize how much I'd be compromising. My peace, my energy, and my boundaries, until I was already here.

The main thing. I asked her not to have her male friend in the house, or to at least give me a heads up that he'd be coming over so I can plan accordingly. Not because I was trying to control anything, but because I didn’t feel comfortable. I didn't want my son exposed to it.

I said it clearly. Multiple times, in a variety of ways. And still, he came back. He kept showing up. She kept letting him in. Taking up space like we didn't exist, and like she didn't hear anything I said.

It started to feel intentional. Like she was trying to push or antagonize me. Or ignore me. Or disrespect me. All the above perhaps? Either way, it clicked… this isn’t new behavior. This is who she’s always been. Toxic, controlling, and inconsiderate.

What This Taught Me

All in all, living with her again wasn’t a mistake, it was a necessary reminder, and it revealed so much more than before.

I realize I chose this because it felt safe. Not healthy, but familiar. That’s what trauma does. It teaches you to shrink in exchange for scraps. To minimize the chaos so you can survive it. But this time, even though I stay quiet for the sake of my son, I gained something else too.

Clarity. Self-awareness. Emotionally intelligence. Self-control. There’s power in restraint. In doing the inner work. In not giving in. There's power in knowing I could take it there, but I don't. I know I'm doing what's necessary to protect my son and the woman I'm becoming.

I see her clearly. The constant tension. The manipulative conversations. The fake kindness with a catch. The way she does things “for you” just so she can bring it up later. Everything she does is for credit. To say she did it. To play the savior. To collect the praise. She's clearly wounded in ways I can't (and don’t want to) fix.

I’ve spent a lot of time feeling guilty for noticing it. For not just smiling and saying thank you. For not being more grateful because she did the things my parents couldn't or wouldn't do. For pushing back. For having my own voice, thoughts and preferences.

But I get it now. I see the pattern.

She doesn’t actually support me. She just wants credit for saying she did. It’s performative. Manipulative. It always has been. And I don’t want to live under that anymore.

And this time, I’m not numbing it. I’m facing it. Feeling it. Sitting in the discomfort. Writing through it. Letting it teach me what it needs to.

This experience taught me that familiarity is not the same as safety. And that sometimes we go back to what we know, because it feels easier than the unknown. But I’m not doing that anymore. I see this as a necessary transformation, and I'm doing my best to make sure I remember all of it so I never return to this kind of environment again!

Oddly, now that we’re getting ready to leave, the weight has interestingly become heavier. Simultaniously however, I feel lighter. Maybe it's hope or optimism, I don't know. I’ve been tolerating a lot, but I’ve also learned a lot.

A part of me wants to curl up into a ball and wait the next fourteen days out in my room with the door closed, but I can’t do that, and honestly, I don’t want to.

Not only am I a mother, and I have to keep showing up for my son, but there’s also this quiet, rising strength inside of me. A feeling that I can do this. That I am, doing this.

That even in my frustration, I am moving through it all with grace, determination, and focus.

I keep reminding myself, just stay focused.

It’s been tricky, especially since I’ve been taking my son to work with me lately. The guilt is real, but so is the peace of mind that he’s with me, and not being mistreated by someone we both should be able to trust.

This isn't just about a new address. It's about walking away from a legacy of dysfunction. Choosing peace and letting go of the story, "this is as good as it gets."

I’m not running. I’m moving on, and letting go mindfully.

What I'm Leaving Behind

One of the hardest things I’ve had to admit is this... I don’t come from the kind of support I always imagined. I’ve had to grieve the fantasy of a loving, unified family. What I imagined family to be. What I desperately wanted it to be. Even when people say they “helped,” the cost was too high. My peace. My safety. My self-worth.

This move is me refusing to pay that price anymore. It’s me letting go of the lie that I have to earn love by being agreeable. It’s me walking away from a false narrative that said she “saved” me.

I’m leaving behind the need to explain myself. The guilt. The false loyalty, the fake help. The pressure to shrink myself to keep the peace. I've been doing everything in my power to stay calm, quiet, and focused. I keep remembering, I won’t let my son live through another screaming match.

I’m walking away from the version of “family” I hoped for but never actually had.

There’s no big support system on the other side. No bench of people waiting to step in. It’s just me and my son. And what I've built so far.

It's scary, but I’d rather move forward with honesty than stay in whatever this is.

Where We're Headed

This move is for both of us. For my son, for myself, and for the life we deserve. We’re moving into a space that aligns with what we want. It’s not "perfect." But it's perfect for us, for now. It’s not some magical, healed version of life. But it’s healthier. Quieter. More ours.

I want my son to grow up in an environment where he’s not navigating tension he can’t name. He deserves joy and space to just be a kid. Where love isn't manipulative. Where kindness doesn't come with strings. Where he knows peace as the baseline, and not as a privilege.

For the most part, I've given him that. And I'm proud of what I've done. I didn't grow up with a mother who had that in mind, but I do.

I too deserve. I deserve space where I don't have to second-guess myself. Where I can build my brands, work in peace, create, raise my son with intention, and just be. All without wondering who's walking through the door or what version of my grandmother we're getting that day.

We're moving closer, to a life that feels more like "us." I may not have a big support system, but I have boundaries, clarity, and hope. For now, that's enough.

Final Thoughts

I’m still figuring out what all of this actually means. This move isn’t some big, dramatic turning point. It’s just… me making a different choice. Choosing peace. Choosing space. Choosing myself. I’m simply doing the best I can with what I have.

That’s where I’m at. And I’ll be sharing more of it. What I’m learning, how I’m preparing, and what this process really looks like, as I go.

You can catch more of this on my YouTube channel, where I'll be vlogging the behind-the-scenes. Or find me on Instagram and Pinterest, where I share real-time updates, thoughts, and tiny moments I want to remember.

It’s been a lot. But I’m good. We’re good. And we’re looking forward in a positive direction.

Unpredictable at times, but peaceful, intentional, and full of possibility.

A life I'm shaping, one decision, one boundary, one dream at a time.