cycles of growth

Hi, my name is Kiya. I’ve been married for 10 years, and that sentence alone holds more pain, hope, confusion, and heartbreak than I can fully explain. I come from a history of loss. My mom died by suicide when I was 8 years old. After that, my grandparents tried to raise me, but when they got too old, I was placed in foster care. I grew up with this deep feeling of abandonment and never really knowing where I belonged. I felt unwanted, like I was just being passed around from one place to another. When I met my husband at 18, I was vulnerable. I thought I had found safety, a forever person. I married him just three months after we met. But it didn’t take long for things to become abusive—physically, emotionally, and mentally. He would accuse me constantly of cheating, even though he was the one cheating, using drugs, and hiding things from me. During our first year of marriage, he had a baby with another woman and didn’t tell me until the baby was almost one year old. I was young, iso...

 onight, I put on my face mask, gathered all my tropical plants, and brought them into the bathroom. I treated them—and myself—to a soft, peaceful spa night. But even in the middle of that peace, I spent three hours in the same fight I’ve been having for ten years—with my husband. It’s always the same story. Accusations of me cheating, while he’s the one who had a child with another woman and juggled three different girlfriends during our marriage. My head hurts. I’m tired. Mentally drained. Tonight, I gave in—not because I believe him, not because I’m wrong, but because I needed silence more than I needed to be right. I needed stillness. I needed to survive the night. But don’t get it twisted—I’m not stupid. And I’m not losing sight of the one thing I want more than anything: Freedom.