N8tivegirl

There are some things that run deeper than families want to admit.

Habits. Attitudes. Patterns we inherit without ever signing our names to them.

Some behaviors don’t just happen — they are passed down like heirlooms.

Silently. Unquestioned. Generation after generation.

We call them “normal” because we saw them growing up.

We defend them because momma did it, and her momma before her.

But sometimes the very thing we call “our way” is actually dysfunction in disguise.

And when someone holds up a mirror, we get offended — not because it isn’t true,

but because truth threatens the only survival method we were ever taught.

When Control Becomes a Legacy

In some families, control becomes the crown the women wear.

Great-grandmother ruled her house.

Grandmother ruled hers.

And the daughter, raised as the “special one,”

grew into that same mold — not because she was wrong,

but because she was trained.

She married, had daughters, and unknowingly passed down

the same patterns:

– the need to dominate,

– the inability to submit,

– the habit of emasculating men,

– the confusion of control with strength.

Outsiders look in and wonder, “What is wrong with that family?”

But the truth is simple:

They inherited a script no one ever dared to rewrite.

Leah and Dinah: A Biblical Mirror

When I look at certain family dynamics, I see Leah and Dinah written all over them.

Leah — the unseen, unloved woman who learned to survive

in a home where affection was scarce.

Dinah — the daughter who inherited her mother’s wounds,

searching for validation in all the wrong places

because she was shaped by rejection she never deserved.

Trauma trickles.

Pain passes.

And unless someone interrupts the flow,

dysfunction becomes the family language.

A mother who was never truly loved becomes a woman who never learned love.

A daughter raised in rejection becomes a woman who chases acceptance.

And then another daughter rises — carrying the same ache,

the same fear of being unseen,

the same habits that once protected her mother

but now imprison her.

This is how generations become a chain.

Breaking What Was Never Meant to Continue

Cycles don’t end by accident.

They end when someone becomes courageous enough to say:

“This is not who we are anymore.”

When a woman falls at the feet of God and prays:

“Teach me what love is.

Teach me how to be soft without being silent.

Teach me how to honor without disappearing.

Teach me how to be the woman You intended before trauma rewrote my identity.”

Healing begins the moment we stop defending what broke us.

It begins when we refuse to normalize dysfunction

just because it came wrapped in family tradition.

You don’t break a generational curse by fighting the people in your bloodline —

you break it by refusing to pass it on.

You become the first one to unlearn.

The first one to love differently.

The first one to choose wholeness over habit.

The first one to say,

“This ends with me.”

And heaven writes a new story through your surrender.

Call to Action

If something in these words stirred you…

don’t ignore it.

Pay attention to the tug in your spirit — that quiet pull that says,

“This cycle ends with me.”

Take a moment today to pause, breathe, and look inward:

What patterns did you inherit?

What wounds are still shaping your choices?

Where is God inviting you to do something new?

Write it down. Pray over it.

Speak life over the little girl still inside you.

And if you’re brave enough, share in the comments:

What story are you choosing not to repeat?

Your courage may give another woman permission to break her own cycle.

You are not alone — and you are not bound to your bloodline.

Healing begins with awareness.

Transformation begins with one choice.

Let today be that choice.