I was a good daughter. To be a good daughter in the house I grew up in meant I had to allow myself to be brutalized — a lot. I had to accept that I was not loved and smile anyway. I had to hide my downcast inner being and show up happy, to make the beasts around me happy. And, I was good at it. I needed their acceptance — I thought. What else did I know.
That was what success in my family of origin looked like.
I left there not liking success very much.
Do you fear success?
Published by Gracedxoxo
I have the courage to tell my story to help others embrace theirs. View more posts