What It Means Surviving a Life I Don’t Remember Choosing
This post is about surviving a life I don’t remember choosing — a life built on trauma, reaction, and instinct, not freedom, desire, or truth.
Some people grow up with dreams, with plans, with a sense of who they are.
Me? I grew up in survival mode.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped living — and just started existing.
I didn’t choose the abuse.
I didn’t choose the silence.
I didn’t choose the gaslighting, the spiritual attack, the generational pain, or the hell I grew up in.
But somehow, I’ve spent decades carrying the consequences of choices I never made.
A Life Built on Survival, Not Truth
Surviving a life I don’t remember choosing means waking up one day and realizing… this version of “me” wasn’t created by me at all.
She was shaped by fear.
By conditioning.
By manipulation.
By chaos.
By the need to survive at all costs — even if it meant losing myself.
I didn’t dream of this life.
I adapted to it.
I tolerated it.
I numbed myself just to function inside it.
And I convinced myself that this was normal — that this was all I was ever going to have.
But now?
Now I’m angry.
Because this was never supposed to be my story.
Breaking Free From What I Didn’t Choose
And I know I can’t change how it started —
But I can choose how it ends.
Surviving a life I don’t remember choosing means finally questioning it all.
What I believe.
What I tolerate.
What I’ve accepted.
What I’ve been told to be.
And piece by piece, I’m taking it back.
No, I don’t have it all figured out.
No, I’m not living my dream life yet.
But I’m done sleepwalking through pain I didn’t sign up for.
I’m done carrying expectations that were forced on me.
I’m done wearing a mask just to make other people feel comfortable.
Reclaiming My Life Starts Now
I want truth.
I want freedom.
I want to become the version of myself that trauma tried to bury.
And if you’re reading this and realizing you’re in the same place —
That you’ve been surviving a life that doesn’t even feel like yours —
Just know:
You’re allowed to want more.
You’re allowed to burn it all down.
You’re allowed to start over — even if no one understands it.
Because maybe we didn’t get to choose how it began.
But we do get to choose what we do with it now.
And I choose truth.
Even if it’s messy.
Even if it costs me everything I thought I needed to keep.
