V: You Are Not Responsible For Anyone Else's Happiness.

For years, I carried what was never mine and shouldered weights I was never meant to bear. I mistook love for rescue, and compassion for captivity. I thought that healing those I loved would somehow make me whole. But in holding their pain, it became my portion and their wounds, my inheritance. In a cycle of brokenness, I lost pieces of myself - surely, they lost pieces too - as their wounds seeped into mine, and mine into theirs.

I believed that if I just loved them enough, or poured enough into them, I could make things right. My heart, still tender with youthful hopes, felt responsible for their healing — especially my mothers'. I have been blessed with two mothers, my biological mother and my adoptive mother. I watched them through endless cycles of self-sabotage and fear, feeling as though I had to walk that road with them and fix what was broken and hold them when things fell apart. And in doing so, I lost pieces of myself. 

I became entangled in their struggles, believing I was somehow the answer, the one who could make it all better. The truth is, I felt responsible for everything. If one didn’t have me at 15, she would have had a chance to become a functional adult. And if the other didn’t take me from the silent but very loud battlegrounds and poverty of the inner city, then her marriage would have survived. I made a habit of wrongfully accusing myself. As I reflect, that is how I was taught, notably by my father, who was very seldom accountable for his actions. Even in my absence, I was still to blame for his actions, or lack thereof. He was like Adam, who instead of taking accountability for his actions, blamed the women God gave him.  

Subsequently, I took on the weight of the hardships we faced as a family, packed them neatly in duffle bags and placed them on the shoulders of my soul. Bag Lady. I carried a narrative that told me I was a burden, that my existence was the cause of the pain around me. I believed I had to save them, save him, save her, save us, even if it meant losing my own health, peace, identity.  

Even though my childhood is over, I carried this mindset into my extrafamilial relationships as I transitioned into adulthood. I subconsciously sought after who I could save, fix, and heal. When truly what I yearned for was safety. My heart, my soul cried for someone to save me, to nurture me. Silent Cries. The beauty of the silent cry of the soul is that there is One that hears, His name is Emmanuel, Redeemer, Prince of Peace, Yeshua.

May the Lord answer you when you are in distress; may the name of the God of Jacob protect you. 2 May he send you help from the sanctuary and grant you support from Zion.

Psalm 20:1-2

El Roi, you heard me, you saw me when I was drowning in front of everyone, you saw me. You extracted the script I rememorized in fear and unraveled the knots I tied for survival. You were diligent with precision and persistence yet clothed in mercy and crowned with purpose. Amidst the pain, Jehovah taught me how to walk again and tested me in the lesson. 

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. 

Romans 12:2 

Here's what I've learned: I was never meant to carry that burden. I am not responsible for their pain, their healing, or their choices. It’s easy to get lost in the voices of the past, to let those whispers define us, but we must remember that our worth isn’t tied to fixing anyone else’s story. We are not the solution to their wounds. We are simply called to love them —  not carry their pain. 

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it 

Proverbs 4:23 

The truth is, I don’t have to be their savior. I am not the cause of their unhappiness or the key to their healing. That weight belongs to my Father. I can release the burden of their struggles and stand in the freedom of knowing that I am not defined by their pain. I am defined by God, it is He who holds me, not the expectations of those around me. I have learned how to joyfully be used as a conduit of love, grace and mercy for God to whoever, whenever, however he calls me to, Including my parents.  

It’s time to let go of the false belief that we are the answer to someone else’s healing. It’s time to listen to the voice of God that calls us to peace, to healing, and to freedom — not the voices that tell us we are responsible for things beyond our control. 

CONCLUSION:

So for my 30’s, this is what I stand on and would like to share with you:

It’s time to let go of the false belief that we are the answer to someone else’s healing. It’s time to listen to the voice of God that calls us to peace, to healing, and to freedom — not the voices that tell us we are responsible for things beyond our control. 

Now that you know, let's grow,

-Kimrose🌹