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Day: May 8, 2025
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Why Forgiveness Is A Survival Skil
When people hurt us, it changes us. Sometimes, the pain is deep, and it stays with us for years. It shapes how we see the world, how we trust others, and even how we see ourselves. We may think, “If they really cared, they wouldn’t have done that.” Or “I’ll never be okay because of what happened.” These thoughts are real. And they hurt.
For a long time, I believed that forgiving people made me weak. I thought it meant saying what they did was okay. I thought it meant I had to be close to them again. But I was wrong.
Forgiveness is not about letting someone off the hook. It’s not about pretending the hurt never happened. It’s not about saying it didn’t matter. Because it did, it still does. But forgiveness is about survival. It’s about freeing yourself from the pain that keeps pulling you down.
When we hold onto anger, it stays with us. It lives in our minds and in our bodies. It shows up as stress, anxiety, and sadness. We think holding onto it will protect us, but really, it just keeps us stuck.
I used to think that if I stayed angry, it would remind people of how much they hurt me. I thought that by not forgiving, I was showing them I was strong. But the truth is, I was hurting myself more than anyone else. The pain didn’t go away. It got heavier.
Forgiving someone doesn’t mean you have to talk to them. It doesn’t mean you have to let them back into your life. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is let them go—and still choose to forgive, not for them, but for you.
I’ve had to forgive people who never said sorry. People who walked away without looking back. People who made me feel unworthy and unloved. Forgiving them didn’t erase what they did. But it gave me something I didn’t expect—it gave me peace.
It also helped me forgive myself.
That part might be even harder. Sometimes, we carry guilt for things that weren’t our fault. Other times, we hold shame for choices we wish we could take back. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve stayed too long in the wrong places. I’ve hurt people, too. But learning to forgive myself was one of the most important things I’ve ever done.
I had to remind myself that I was doing the best I could at the time. I had to learn that healing isn’t about being perfect—it’s about trying again. It’s about growing. And it’s about being kind to yourself when you fall.
Forgiveness is not a weakness. It takes strength to let go of the anger. It takes courage to say, “This hurt me, but I won’t let it control me anymore.” And it takes heart to believe you deserve peace, even when your past tells you otherwise.
We all have scars. We all carry stories that still make us cry. But we don’t have to stay there. We can choose to rise. We can choose to heal. We can choose to forgive—not because they deserve it, but because we do.
Forgiveness is how we move forward. It’s how we learn to breathe again after holding it in for too long. It’s how we start to feel free.
If you’re struggling to forgive, I understand. Start small. Be patient. And remember—you are not weak. You are brave. And you are worth the peace that forgiveness brings.
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Trauma’s Worth: Finding Yourself in the Wreckage
Sometimes, life breaks us in ways we never see coming. It doesn’t ask permission, and it doesn’t warn us. One day, you’re living your life, doing your best, and the next, it feels like the floor disappears beneath your feet. That’s what trauma does. It shows up without a plan, and it leaves you picking up the pieces of something that may never feel whole again.
For a long time, I believed I was broken beyond repair. The pain I carried wasn’t always visible, but it was always there. I walked through life with a smile on my face, trying to be “enough” for everyone. Enough as a daughter. Enough as a mom. Enough as a woman. But deep down, I felt like I wasn’t enough for anyone—including myself.
When you’ve been abandoned or let down by the people who were supposed to love and protect you, it changes you. It rewires the way you think and feel. You start to believe that love is something you must earn. That safety is a myth. That being chosen is for other people, not you. I believed those things for far too long.
But here’s the truth: trauma doesn’t get to decide your worth.
It took years for me to understand that. Years of hurting, healing, and learning how to face my past instead of running from it. I had to go back to those painful places in my memory. I had to remember the moments I was left, the times I was ignored, and the seasons where I felt completely alone, even when I was surrounded by people.
I had to ask hard questions. Why did I chase people who didn’t love me back? Why did I keep repeating the same patterns? Why was I so scared of being loved the right way?
Slowly, through therapy, writing, and deep reflection, I began to see the patterns. I realized I had been building my identity on the broken promises of others. I gave power to the people who hurt me, and I carried guilt that was never mine to hold. But even in the middle of all that pain, I found something I didn’t expect: strength.
There is something powerful about surviving trauma. It doesn’t mean the pain goes away. It doesn’t mean the past is erased. But it means you made it. You’re still here. And that matters.
For me, writing this book became part of my healing. I wanted to share my story—not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. I wanted people to know they’re not alone in their hurt. That it’s okay to struggle, it’s okay to feel broken. But most of all, it’s okay to rise again.
Your trauma does not define you. But it does shape you. And in that shaping, there is worth.
There’s worth in the fight to understand yourself. Worth in the tears you’ve cried and the nights you’ve felt completely alone. Worth in every breath you’ve taken when it felt like breathing was too hard. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. You just have to keep going.
If you take anything away from this, I hope it’s this: You are not your trauma. You are not the choices other people made. You are not too broken to heal. Your story matters. And you are worth every ounce of love, grace, and forgiveness.
Even in the wreckage, you can find yourself. And that self? She’s strong, she’s brave, and she is worthy. Always.
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Why Do We Chase the “He?”
Sometimes, the weight of past wounds doesn’t fully register until it begins shaping present choices—especially in the relationships we pursue. For those who’ve experienced early trauma, particularly abandonment or emotional neglect, romantic patterns often mirror unresolved pain. The pursuit of love isn’t always about love itself. Often, it’s about chasing what feels familiar—even if that familiarity is unhealthy.
Many discover this pattern over time: chasing “He.” Not one specific man, not one singular relationship, but a repeated cycle. Each version of “He” may seem different at first glance—yet they all carry a familiar thread. Emotionally distant. Unavailable. Unable to meet someone fully. Still, the pattern continues. The hope remains that this time, things will be different. That this time, they will be chosen. That this time, they will finally feel enough.
But trauma doesn’t heal by repeating the same story. Healing begins when the question is finally asked: Why does this keep happening?
For many, it begins with the first “He”—a father who left, a parent who wasn’t emotionally present, or a caregiver who couldn’t provide consistent love. Even if there was a return later, the early rupture often leaves a lasting imprint. The lack of attachment, the absence of security, and the desperate longing to feel seen can shape how love is sought moving forward.
When children don’t receive the emotional connection they need, especially from someone who was supposed to stay, they often internalize the idea that love must be earned. That it requires effort, performance, or proving one’s worth. And when love feels distant or unreciprocated, it doesn’t always raise red flags—it often feels like home.
This isn’t about blame—it’s about clarity. Understanding. Healing.
In Trauma’s Worth, the narrative explores how deep-seated trauma patterns often surface in intimate relationships. It reveals how early emotional wounds can lead individuals to seek out the same kind of pain repeatedly—not because they want to suffer, but because the pain is what they know. It’s a pattern rooted in survival, not weakness.
But healing is possible. When individuals begin to understand the “why” behind their relational choices, they unlock the ability to choose differently. To chase something new: peace, safety, self-respect.
The path to healing is not simple. Unlearning trauma responses requires honesty, time, and support. It begins with recognizing that the need for love was never the problem. The real challenge lies in who someone felt they had to become to be worthy of it.
For anyone who has ever wondered, Why do I keep choosing people who can’t love me back? or Why do I always feel like I’m not enough? — the answer is not in shame but in the story. The story matters. The heart behind the question matters. And no one is too far gone to find a love that feels safe.
Healing begins not with chasing the next “He” but in turning inward. In choosing self-compassion over self-abandonment. In discovering that the most important love story may be the one finally written with the self at the center.
In Trauma’s Worth, author Heather Jessica Sieben Bell offers not just a personal account but a deeply reflective narrative for anyone who has ever felt unchosen, unheard, or unsafe. Through unflinching honesty and emotional clarity, the book explores how childhood trauma seeps into adulthood, especially in the relationships that matter most. It’s about finding the courage to stop chasing the familiar pain—and to start choosing peace, presence, and the worth that was always there.
For those ready to understand their patterns, question their past, and begin again with honesty—Trauma’s Worth is more than a story. It’s a companion for healing.
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Trauma, Timing, and the ‘Too-Soon’ Lessons of Life
Some lessons in life arrive gently, like a soft rainfall. Others crash in like a storm. Trauma’s Worth tells the story of someone who learned too many life-altering lessons far too early. This isn’t a story grounded in blame or bitterness. It’s a narrative rooted in truth — and in the deep impact that timing can have when it comes to trauma, healing, and the pursuit of wholeness.
Timing is a theme that often surfaces when reflecting on life’s most painful chapters. Was it unfortunate timing to enter adulthood too soon? Or to face trauma before having the tools to understand it? These aren’t questions with simple answers. But what is clear is this: timing has power. Especially when pain arrives before a person is ready to carry it.
Many children face situations they should never have to endure. Often labeled as “too sensitive” or “too much,” they are simply young souls trying to navigate a world that feels unsafe. When trauma enters a life before the brain is fully developed — before there’s language or understanding to make sense of it — that trauma lingers. It doesn’t just disappear. It embeds itself in the body, the mind, and the choices made along the way, sometimes without conscious awareness.
There’s a common belief that strength alone can push past the hard stuff — that success, perfectionism, or romantic love can drown out the echoes of the past. But trauma doesn’t work that way. And neither does healing. Especially when the wounds formed in the early years of life, long before they could be named.
Silence is one of early trauma’s cruelest companions. Not just silence from those around, but a deeper, internal silence — a quiet confusion about emotions that seem unexplainable. This silence can lead to self-doubt, a fractured sense of identity, and a lingering question: “Will anyone ever really see or understand me?”
The process of healing often begins with unlearning the lies believed for too long — lies that say a person is too broken, too emotional, or too difficult to love. True healing requires the courage to sit with pain rather than running from it, to feel deeply instead of numbing, and to unravel the shame that took root in silence.
The most profound lessons in life sometimes arrive too soon. Childhood emotions often carry adult-level weight. And many are forced to mature far earlier than they should. Yet, with time, reflection, and committed healing work, those early lessons — though painful — can begin to take on new meaning. They don’t have to define someone as damaged. Instead, they can shape resilience, empathy, and the capacity to support others through their own healing.
Healing doesn’t erase the past. It doesn’t offer a perfect ending. But it does offer something powerful: the chance to create a new narrative. One where the events of the past no longer define the self but instead illuminate the strength it took to rise.
Trauma’s Worth is a story, but it’s also a mirror for anyone who has felt the weight of growing up too quickly or who has ever wondered whether their story matters. The answer is yes — it matters deeply. The pain matters. The healing matters. And the timing, even when it seems unfair, may ultimately guide someone to exactly where they are meant to be. For anyone who feels like the pain came too early or the healing arrived too late — Trauma’s Worth offers connection. It offers hope. It serves as a reminder that healing begins the moment truth is spoken. And from there, anyone can start their journey — one honest page at a time.