N8tivegirl

When the War Never Ends

Some wars end on paper.

The divorce is final. The papers are signed. Separate homes are established. From the outside, it looks like the battle is over.

But for some children, the war never actually ends.

They grow up not in the aftermath of conflict—but in its continuation.

These are the children of chaos.

Living Inside Someone Else’s Anger

Children of chaos live in homes where bitterness has become a permanent resident. Where anger is no longer a reaction—but a lifestyle. Time passes, years roll by, yet nothing truly changes because one parent refuses to release the past.

I think of my nieces .

Their parents divorced over a decade ago, yet they are still prisoners of a war that officially ended years ago. Their mother remains angry—angry that my brother moved on, angry that he remarried, angry that he found happiness she never allowed herself to pursue.

Because of that anger, the children are held hostage.

Visits are restricted. Relationships are severed. Entire sides of their family are erased—not because of danger or harm, but because bitterness demands loyalty. In her mind, everyone connected to their father is an enemy, a reminder of a wound she refuses to let heal.

Another year passes. More drama. No resolution.

Bitterness as a Comforter

There is something deceptive about bitterness—it feels like protection. Like control. Like power. But in truth, it is a poor substitute for healing.

Their mother chooses to live in the past, allowing resentment to become her comforter. She keeps reopening the wound, picking at the scar, refusing to let it close. And because she cannot release what was, she cannot receive what could be.

She is so consumed by yesterday that she cannot focus on tomorrow.

Life, however, continues.

I see their father smiling now—something he rarely did before. I see peace where there was once constant conflict. He is whole in a way he never was during the marriage. And yet, his healing seems to intensify her anger, as if happiness itself is an offense.

She does not smile.

Instead, she plots. She schemes. She plays emotional chess, always thinking several moves ahead—how to get even, how to regain control, how to punish what she cannot accept.

And in the middle of the board sit the children.

The Cost to the Children

Children of chaos grow up carrying emotions that were never meant to be theirs. They learn to manage a parent’s anger instead of their own childhood. They become caretakers, negotiators, peacekeepers—roles far too heavy for young shoulders.

They learn that love is conditional.

That affection can be withdrawn.

That access to one parent can be used as leverage against the other.

They internalize the chaos and begin to believe that instability is normal, that tension is love, that loyalty requires self-betrayal.

And the damage does not stop when they grow up.

Children raised in unresolved chaos often struggle with trust, boundaries, and identity. They fear abandonment yet resist closeness. They crave peace but feel uneasy when life is calm. Chaos becomes familiar—and familiarity feels safe, even when it hurts.

A Wound That Refuses to Heal

Bitterness is like a broken doll—a toy repeatedly handed to God with the request, “Fix this,” while refusing to let go. Healing requires surrender, but resentment tightens its grip and says, “Not yet.”

How can God heal what we refuse to release?

How can restoration come when the pieces are withheld?

Time alone does not heal wounds. Avoidance does not heal wounds. Control does not heal wounds. Only truth, humility, and surrender do.

And when healing is postponed, children pay the price.

A Prayer for the Children—and the Parent

Lord, please heal her.

Teach her how to be herself again—how to release bitterness, how to lay down anger, how to stop living in a past that no longer exists. Life is too short to remain imprisoned by yesterday.

Protect the children caught in the middle. Shield their hearts from absorbing what was never meant for them to carry. Break the cycles of resentment and retaliation so they do not repeat what they were raised in.

Bring peace where chaos has ruled for too long.

Because children deserve freedom—not lifelong captivity to a war that should have ended years ago.

Closing Reflection

Children of chaos do not ask for divided loyalties, emotional captivity, or inherited bitterness. They simply want permission to love freely—to belong to both sides of themselves without fear or punishment.

Healing does not erase the past.

But it does release the future.

And until that release happens, the war continues—quietly, painfully—inside the hearts of the children left behind.