N8tivegirl

”We grew apart the moment I grew up.”

Sometimes trauma is the glue that holds a relationship together.

Not love.

Not purpose.

Not God.

Just two wounded souls who recognized their own scars in someone else.

He was raised by a single mother who dropped out of school.

So was she.

Both became parents at fifteen.

Both learned how to survive before they ever had the chance to dream.

Their lives didn’t just meet… they paralleled.

Trauma spoke a language they both understood.

Shared pain brought them together, but eventually one of them started healing.

And healing is honest.

Healing is disruptive.

Healing will show you what was real — and what was simply familiar.

Because what once bonded them began to break them.

One grew spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically.

The other stayed stuck — still wearing a mask, pretending to have changed, hiding the unfinished work behind a practiced façade.

And the truth is, the relationship could only stretch as far as the most broken part of it.

People say some relationships are built on trauma.

I used to hope we had more in common than our wounded pasts.

But reality whispered otherwise:

that was all we ever stood on.

We met at a time when you needed an escape, and I desperately needed one too.

So we ran into each other and tried to call it destiny.

We built a house, not on rock, but on sand — on need, on fear, on survival.

And when the storms of life finally came, the foundation washed clean away.

That’s when it hit me:

we were never broken by the storm.

We were exposed by it.

The hard truth — the heartbreaking truth — is that our relationship was never rooted in strength. It was held together by a lie we both wanted to believe: that pain could be a foundation.

But pain can bind you.

It can’t build you.

And once healing comes… whatever was built on trauma begins to fall apart.