If I could revisit the past—not just with hindsight but with the strength and wisdom I have now—I’d go straight to the times I tolerated relationships that were abusive. Not just relationships that “weren’t serving me,” but ones that outright harmed me. I stayed not because I didn’t know better deep down, but because I felt trapped by fear, by guilt, and by the crushing weight of expectations.
Growing up Roman Catholic, I internalized a lot about duty, sacrifice, and the idea that enduring pain could somehow be noble. And having had a child out of wedlock while young, I felt that weight even more acutely. It was like the world handed me a script, and I followed it even when the plot was one I couldn’t bear to live.
But looking back, I realize I didn’t have to stay. I didn’t have to tolerate being mistreated or diminish myself to meet someone else’s needs. If I could rewrite that chapter, I would have spoken up sooner—not just to others, but to myself. I would have said, “This is not okay, and you deserve better.” I would have reminded myself that love—real, healthy love—does not control, belittle, or hurt.
Leaving an abusive relationship isn’t just about walking out the door—it’s about unlearning the lies that kept you there in the first place. Lies like, “You’re being too sensitive” or “You’ll never make it on your own.” If I could do it differently, I would have sought help—friends, family, a support group, someone who could remind me of my worth when I forgot it myself.
And if I’d had the wisdom and grounding I’ve gained through embracing the teachings of the Plains Cree, I think I’d have found the strength to leave sooner. These teachings have shown me the value of balance and harmony—not just with others, but within myself. They’ve taught me to listen to my instincts and to recognize when something is disrupting my sense of self and well-being.
I also know now how important mental health is in breaking these patterns. Abuse can warp your sense of reality—it can make you believe that the problem lies with you, not with the situation. If I’d understood that earlier, I might have reached out for therapy or other resources to help me see through the fog and reclaim my power.
And maybe, if I’d acted differently the first time it happened, I could have stopped the cycle before it repeated itself. But life doesn’t always give us clean slates—it gives us lessons. What I’ve learned is that tolerating abuse doesn’t make you strong. Walking away, choosing yourself, and saying, “Enough”—that’s the real strength.
So, to my younger self, here’s what I’d say: You don’t have to endure this. You don’t have to meet expectations that were never yours to begin with. You are allowed to put yourself first, to demand respect, and to leave, no matter what anyone else says. You’re not stuck—you’re worth so much more.
However, if I had done things differently, I would not be the person I am today. I’d rather learn from the past than wish things were different, because I am learning to like who I am.
Who am I? 
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