Let me ask you something. What happens when you start healing and your family doesn't like the healed version of you? Because everybody loves to say, go heal, go work on yourself, break generational curses, set those boundaries, choose yourself until you actually do it. And then suddenly, or you change, you think you're better than everybody. Ever since you started therapy, that's still your mama, that's still your daddy, but that's your sister. Family is family. Why are you bringing up old stuff? Why can't you just let it go? You know how they are. Baby, I know exactly how they are. That's why we're having this conversation because sometimes healing doesn't just change you, healing changes the entire system around you. When you stop playing the role that you've always played, everybody else has to adjust. And some people don't want to adjust. Some people don't want the truth. Some of them don't want boundaries. They damn sure don't want accountability. And some people don't want you questioning what your family has been calling normal for generations. And sometimes they don't actually want you healed. They want you manageable, quiet, available, forgiving, useful, and willing to keep the family secrets. Today, we're talking about it. Welcome back to the Quietest Kept Podcast. I am Shanti B, a master certified mental health coach, author, speaker, and your journal bae. And listen, today might make Thanksgiving a little awkward for some of y'all. I'm just letting y'all know now. Because we're talking about family. And people get real uncomfortable when you start talking about family. We could talk about the toxic boyfriend, we could talk about the bad boss. We could talk about the fake friend. But when you say, My mama hurt me, my daddy failed me, my sister doesn't respect my boundaries. My family protected the wrong person. My family taught me some unhealthy shit. Not everybody gets nervous because we've been taught that family loyalty means being quiet. And I don't believe that. I believe you can love your family and tell the truth about your experience. I believe you can appreciate what somebody did give you while acknowledging what they couldn't give you. I believe gratitude and grief can exist together. And I believe understanding somebody's story doesn't require you to pretend their behavior didn't affect yours. So let's get into it. Now, family is where we learn normal, quote unquote. Before we get into families not wanting you to heal, let's establish something. Your family is usually your first classroom. Before school teaches you anything, your home is teaching you. It's teaching you what love looks like, what conflict looks like, what affection looks like, what anger looks like, what apologies look like, what marriage looks like, what parenting looks like, what communication looks like, what women are supposed to do, what men are supposed to do, who gets to have feelings, who has to shut up, who gets protected, who gets blamed, what happens when somebody does something wrong, and what you're supposed to do when you're hurt. And the crazy part, nobody has to sit you down and formally teach you. You watch, you absorb, you adapt. If nobody apologizes, you learn that apologies aren't necessary. If everybody screams, you learn screaming is communication. If people give the silent treatment for three days, you may learn that's how conflict works. If somebody hurts somebody and everybody says, Don't you tell nobody our business, you learn that protecting the family's reputation matters more than talking about harm. If everybody excuses one person's behavior because that's just how they are, you learn everybody else is responsible for adjusting around the person causing the problem. And then you grow up and somebody tells you that's not healthy. And you're like, what you mean? This is normal. Exactly. Normal and healthy are not the same thing. Sometimes normal simply means this is what happened often enough that I stopped questioning it. Now, this is personal for me, and if you have read my book, Quiet is Kev, you know I wrote about things that happened in my family in my childhood. I wrote about physical abuse. Uh, I wrote about not growing up with a lot of affection. I wrote about my relationship with my mom. I wrote about my father not being physically present the way I needed him to be. I wrote about what those things did inside of me. And that's an important distinction because healing wasn't just let me make a list of everything everybody did wrong. No. Through therapy and journaling, it eventually made me ask what happened inside of me because of what happened around me. And that's where the work was. I had to look at it. How did this affect the way I love? How does it how did this affect my self-esteem? How did it affect the way I communicate? How did it affect the way I parented? How did it affect my relationships? How did it affect the way I dealt with emotions? How did it affect what I tolerated? And there were things I had to own too. You know, I had to own some stuff because I don't believe healing means my family messed me up, so nothing I do is my responsibility. No ma'am. That's not how that works. You already know how I feel about that. Understanding where a behavior came from does not give you permission to keep hurting people with it. But I also couldn't change what I refuse to examine. And that's where families sometimes get uncomfortable because when one person starts asking questions, other people start feeling like they're being questioned too. Now, some families have an unofficial list of things nobody talks about: addiction, abuse, mental illness, sexual abuse, domestic violence, cheating, money problems, teen pregnancy, who hurt you, who wasn't there, who knew, who covered it up, who protected the wrong person, who everybody was scared of. Everybody knows, but nobody talks. Then somebody goes to therapy, and baby, now we got a problem. Because therapy may teach you to name things your family survived by not naming. Your family called it, that's just how daddy gets. You call it intimidation. Your family called it, she has a temper. You called it physical abuse. Your family called it marriage problems, you called it domestic violence. Your family called it keeping the peace. You realize you were people pleasing because conflict didn't feel safe. Your family called you independent. You realize you learned not to need anybody because you couldn't depend on anybody. And now the language changes. And when the language changes, the story changes. That's why some people will fight the language. Because if we name what happens, somebody might have to be accountable for it. Now, most families have roles, not official ones. You know, nobody hands you a name tag at the family reunion, but they're there. The responsible one, the successful one, the baby, the troublemaker, the peacemaker, the caretaker, the strong one, the funny one, the one everybody calls when they need money, the one who keeps everybody together, the one nobody expects anything from, the one who's supposed to forgive, the one who's supposed to understand. And sometimes the role started because you were good at something. But sometimes it started because the family needed somebody to carry something. Maybe you became the peacemaker because conflict scared you. Maybe you became the responsible child because adults weren't responsible. Maybe you became funny because humor made painful things easier. Maybe you became the successful one because achievement got you attention. Maybe you became the caretaker because being needed made you feel secure. And then you started healing. And now you say, I ain't doing that no more. And everybody clutches their imaginary pearls and be like, what the hell? Because when one person stops playing their role, the system has to reorganize. Now let's talk about when your boundaries become quote unquote disrespect. That one's big. You say, Don't talk to me like that. Disrespectful. Disrespectful. I can't lend you money. Selfish. I'm not talking about that. Secretive. We're not coming this year. You changed. I don't want you dropping by without calling first. Who you think you is? I don't want my children around that. Oh, now you think you're better than us? No. I have a boundary. And here is what I've learned. People who were comfortable with your lack of boundaries may experience your boundaries as rejection. But guess what? That doesn't automatically make your boundary wrong. Now, are all boundaries healthy? No. We're not doing TikTok therapy. You don't get to treat people like shit and call it a boundary. A boundary is about what you will participate in. A boundary is not you're allowed to speak to anybody I don't like. You're not allowed to speak to anybody I don't like. No, that's not a boundary, that's control. A boundary might be if you yell at me, I'm ending a conversation. That's about your participation. There's a difference. But when you spent your life having no boundaries, even healthy boundaries can feel mean at first, especially with family. Here is a sentence that I can't stand. Because at one point that used to guide me in my decision making. But that's your mama. Let's talk about that sentence. Because people use family titles like they erase impact. But that's your mama. I know. But that's your daddy. I know that too. But that's your sister. And but y'all are family. Correct. Now what? Does the title mean I'm not allowed to be hurt? Does the title mean disrespect doesn't count because it's coming from them? Does the title mean I can't need distance from them? Does the title mean accountability is unnecessary because it's them? Does the title mean I have to keep accepting behavior I wouldn't accept from anybody else? Family relationships matter, but a title is not a lifetime exemption from accountability. And hear me carefully. That doesn't mean every family conflict requires cutting somebody off. I think the internet has gotten way too comfortable telling strangers, cut them off. Baby, we don't know those people's lives. Sometimes the answer is a conversation. Sometimes it may be a boundary. Sometimes it's therapy. Sometimes it's changed expectations. Sometimes it's limited contact. Sometimes it's distance. And sometimes reconciliation is possible. Sometimes it isn't. But the point isn't cut everybody off. The point is stop assuming family automatically means unlimited access. Now, because it's October and it's domestic violence awareness month. And here's something we need to talk about that doesn't get enough attention. Sometimes the survivor isn't only dealing with the abusive partner. Hello, somebody. They're dealing with everybody else's opinion about the relationship. Don't break up your family. Think about the kids. You know marriage is hard. Have you prayed about it? Don't be out here telling everybody your business. Maybe you pushed them too far. They've always been nice to me. I can't see them doing that. But they provide for you. Everybody argues every now and again. Give them another chance. And baby, some of those statements can keep people trapped in silence. Domestic violence is about power and control. And abuse can include more than physical violence. It can include psychological aggression, coercive control, stalking, sexual violence, isolation, financial control, threats, and monitoring. And current CDC data shows how common some of those behaviors are. Nearly one in three women in the United States reported experiencing psychological aggression from an intimate partner during their lifetime. And when CDC looked specifically at coercive control, women reported experience, including being kept from their own money, being isolated from family or friends, being tracked or monitored, being threatened, having important belongings destroyed, or having decisions made for them that should have been theirs to make. So when somebody tells you something isn't right in their relationship, please don't wait for them to show up with a black eye before you take them seriously. Family reputation does not matter more than somebody's safety. I'm gonna say that again. Baby, abusive people don't necessarily abuse everybody they know. Your experience with somebody does not cancel somebody else's experience with them. And when a survivor finally tells somebody what's happening, that moment matters. Because imagine what it took for them to even say it. And then imagine hearing, I don't believe you. Or are you sure that's what happened? Or well, what did you do? Let's keep this between us. Don't ruin their reputation. No, if somebody's reputation can only survive because everybody hides what they do, the truth isn't the problem. Now, I talked about this before on the last episode, but it belongs here too. Because why don't they just leave? That question. Family said, friends said, everybody on the outside, they know exactly what they would do. I would have left the first time. Maybe, maybe not. The National Domestic Violence Hotline points out that people may stay for many reasons, whether it's fear, intimidation, financial dependence, children, love, normalized abuse, lack of resources, cultural or religious pressure, and even more. And leaving can be a particularly dangerous period. So if somebody you love is experiencing abuse, your job isn't to take control of their life away from them. Ask, how can I support you? That's different from here's what you're going to do. They already have somebody trying to control them. Support should support should help them return power to the survivor, not become another person making every decision for them. That's not support. Yes, this is uncomfortable, but here we are. Some families protect the person who causes harm because holding that person accountable would disrupt too much in their lives. Maybe they're the breadwinner, maybe they're respected, maybe they're the family favorite. Maybe everybody's afraid of them. Maybe grandma don't want the family divided. Maybe admitting the truth will force other people to admit what they ignored. So everybody works around the person. Don't bring that up around them. You know how she gets. Just apologize so we can move on. Don't invite and don't invite both of them. Don't say nothing because it'll start something. Do you see what happened? Everybody's behavior is being managed except the person causing the harm. That is not peace, that is accommodation. And sometimes the family calls the person who finally refuses to participate in it, they become the problem. Yes, the truth teller often looks like the troublemaker. If a system survives through silence, the person who speaks will look disruptive. Think about that. If everybody has agreed, we don't talk about this, and you say, I want to talk about it. You look like the one creating conflict. But did you create the problem or did you expose it? Those are not the same thing. Sometimes the person called dramatic is simply the first person willing to say, This hurt me. This isn't okay. This keeps happening. We need to address this. I'm not doing this anymore. And that's why healing can feel lonely because you might be the first one. Now, here's the hard truth of the week. Sometimes breaking a generational cycle will make you look disloyal to people who were loyal to the dysfunction. Baby, put that in your journal. You might be the first person who says, We're going to apologize to children. We're going to talk about feelings. We're going to go to therapy. We're not hitting our kids. We're not staying in abusive relationships to keep up appearances. We're not covering for addiction. We're not forcing children to hug people they don't want to hug. We're not protecting grown people at the expense of children. We're not making girls responsible for men's behavior. We're not telling boys they can't cry. We're not using religion to avoid accountability. We're not confusing forgiveness with excess. We're not keeping harmful secrets just because the person who caused the harm shares our last name. Somebody got to go first, and going first is rarely comfortable. You may grieve the family you wanted. This part of healing isn't talked about enough. Sometimes healing brings grief because once you stop pretending, you may realize my mother may never become the mother I needed. My dad may never say the thing I've been wanting to hear. My sibling may never take accountability for what they did. My family may never understand my boundary. We may never have the relationship I imagine. That is grief. You're grieving something that may never have fully existed. The family you wanted, the apology you wanted, the holiday you wanted, the closeness you wanted, the safety you wanted. And sometimes acceptance is painful because hope was keeping the fantasy alive. Acceptance doesn't mean I like this. It means I'm going to make decisions based on what is instead of what I keep wishing it would be. This is where maturity comes in. Because maybe your mother had a hard childhood too. Maybe your dad didn't know how to show affection because nobody showed him. Maybe grandma stayed because she didn't have money. Maybe Papa thought discipline meant fear because that's how he was raised. Context matters. I believe in context. But baby, context and accountability can sit at the same table. I can understand why you became who you became and acknowledged how your behavior affected me. I don't have to make you a monster to tell the truth about my pain. And I don't have to erase my pain to prove I understand yours. Both. That's healing. Now let's talk about forgiveness. Because family love to pull forgiveness. Forgiveness out when accountability gets uncomfortable. You need to forgive. Maybe I do, but forgiveness does not mean it did not happen. Forgiveness doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Forgiveness doesn't mean I trust you. Forgiveness doesn't mean nothing changes. Forgiveness does not automatically mean reconciliation. And forgiveness definitely does not mean somebody gets the exact same access to you they had before they harmed you. You can forgive someone and still need a boundary. You can forgive and still say, I don't trust you yet. You can forgive and say the relationship is over. Your healing does not have to look like somebody else's idea of forgiveness. Now what if your family really doesn't understand? They don't. And I know that sounds simple. It's not because many of us are still trying to win a family court case that nobody agreed to hear. We have gathered the evidence, we explain, re-explain, we send in articles, we sharing TikToks, we talking to aunties, so aunties can talk to mama, trying to get everybody to finally say, you're right, we understand. But what if they never do? Can you still heal? That's the question. Because if your healing requires everybody who hurt you to agree with your version of what happened, baby, you're gonna be waiting forever. Your experience doesn't become real only when somebody else validates it. So I have something called the family rules audit. I want you to think about the unwritten rules in your family and finish these sentences. In my family, asking for help means in my family, therapy means in my family divorce means in my family keeping the peace means in my family being loyal means don't look at those answers. Which ones are your values and which ones did you inherit? That's important to differentiate because inherited beliefs can feel like truth when really they're just old rules that nobody questions. But guess what, babe? You get to question them. All right, you knew this was coming. Here go your five prompts, prompts, and I want you to take your time with these. Number one, what role was I expected to play in my family, and how is that role still affecting the way I live today? A strong one, fixer, peacemaker, caretaker, invisible one, successful one. What did the role give you? And what did it cost you? Number two, what did my family teach me was normal that I now recognize may not have been healthy? And don't judge yourself for not knowing then. You know now. Number three, where am I still accepting behavior because that's family that I would not accept from anybody else? And what boundary might be needed? Number four, what family truth am I afraid to acknowledge because I worry that acknowledging it makes me disloyal, ungrateful, or disrespectful? Now remember, acknowledging your experience isn't the same thing as hating your family. Number five, what ends with me? One pattern, one belief, one behavior, one family rule. What are you deciding will not continue through you? Hello, generational curse breaker. All right, what am I learning this week? I'm unlearning that loving people means protecting them from the consequence of their behavior. That's not love. Sometimes love tells the truth. Sometimes love says, I understand you, but I'm not participating in this. Sometimes love says, I forgive you, but things are different now. Sometimes love says, I hope you heal from over there. And sometimes the most loving thing you can do for yourself is stop volunteering to be the emotional shock absorber for an entire family. All right. This episode is at the heart of Quiet is kept because my book required me to tell my story, not the you know, polished, shiny family version, not the version that made everybody comfortable, but mine. And that doesn't mean every person in my story would tell every event exactly the way I did, and that's life. You know, you heard that saying there's your story, their story, and somewhere in the middle is the truth. But I had to stop acting like my experiences didn't shape me. Writing quietest kept forcing me to look at childhood, relationships, pain, choices I made, mistakes I made, survival, and healing. And the biggest thing I want you to understand about the book is that I wasn't writing it to put everybody else on trial. I was trying to understand Shanti. How did I become her? What happened? What did I learn? What did I carry? What did I repeat? What did I need to heal? And who did I want to become once I knew better? That's why I want you to read it with your own journal beside you because my story is mine. But something in it may help you understand yours. And if this episode is bringing up your family patterns, that's the work we can explore in coaching. Maybe you're learning boundaries for the first time, or maybe you're tired of being a strong one. Maybe you're trying to stop people pleasing. Maybe guilt keeps pulling you back into relationships and responsibilities that you've outgrown. And then maybe you're realizing I know where this pattern came from, but I don't know how to stop repeating it. That is where we work. Not to sit around blaming your family every week. We don't do that. We're identifying what happened, understanding what it created, deciding what still belongs in your life, and changing what doesn't. Because eventually healing has to become behavior. You already know staying stuck in cute. If you're ready to work with me, you can learn more about coaching with me through Boswell Coaching and Consulting at my website, shantib.com. And because we're talking about domestic violence, domestic violence awareness month, I want to make the distinction again. If you are currently experiencing abuse or worried about your immediate safety, coaching is not a replacement for specialized domestic violence advocacy, emergency assistance, therapy, medical care, or legal support. Your safety comes first. And before I close, I need to say this: if someone in your family comes to you and tells you that their partner is hurting, controlling, threatening, stalking, or abusing them, please don't turn it into a family meeting about what it looks like. Don't say, but I like them. Please don't say they've always been nice to me. Don't say you need to leave tonight or I'm done helping. Don't say, I knew something was wrong with them. Don't make it about being right. Listen and ask for what ask them what they need. Take their concerns seriously. And when possible, help them connect with people trying to support survivors. The National Domestic Violence Hotline has confidential advocates who are available 24-7 in the United States. You can call 1-800-799-SAFE. That's 1-800-799-7233. You can take start to 88788. And if someone may be monitoring the survivor's phone or internet use, digital safety matters too. You don't have to become their therapist, you don't have to rescue them, but you can be a safe person. And sometimes that in itself is incredibly powerful. Now here's your quote: healing may change your place in a family. Let it. Again, healing may change your place in a family. Let it. Listen, I don't want you leaving this episode thinking my whole family is toxic. That was not the point of this episode. Yes, families are complicated. People are complicated. Hell, you are complicated. I'm complicated. There can be love and hurt, good memories and painful ones. People who did the best they knew how to do and things that still stay, that still affected you deeply. Healing isn't about rewriting your entire childhood so everybody becomes a villain. It's about finally becoming honest enough to ask, what did I learn here that I don't want to keep carrying? Maybe your family taught you strength. Keep it. Maybe they taught you faith. Keep it. Maybe they taught you generosity. Keep it. Maybe they taught you how to laugh in hard times. Keep it. Maybe they also taught you to suffer quietly. You can leave that. Maybe they taught you that love means tolerating anything. Leave that. Maybe they taught you boundaries are disrespectful. Leave that. Maybe they taught you family secrets matter more than your mental health. Absolutely leave that. Maybe they taught you to protect people who hurt you. Leave that. Maybe they taught you that saying no makes you selfish. Leave that shit too. You don't have to throw away your whole family to break a family pattern. Sometimes breaking a pattern starts with one decision. I'm doing this differently. And maybe everybody won't understand. Maybe somebody will call you difficult. Maybe somebody will say therapy changed you. And maybe your answer needs to be it did. Because I'm not interested in healing just enough to recognize a dysfunction and then volunteering for another shift in it. No, we know better now. And knowing better comes with responsibility. Not responsibility to fix everybody, responsibility to decide what you will continue and what stops with you. I'm Seanti B and this is the Quietest Kept Podcast. Keep healing, keep telling the truth, keep choosing yourself. And remember, you can love your family without inheriting every pattern they handed you. I'll talk to y'all next time.