As life has a way of doing, I was brought to my knees recently—invited into one of the deepest, rawest, and most gut-wrenching journeys of my soul. I asked the Divine, the Creator, the Great Mother: Why? Why is this my path? I begged to see the patterns I couldn’t yet recognize, to understand why certain themes kept repeating in my life.
The catalyst? My mother went no-contact a decade ago. And just this past October, my daughter made the same choice.
The grief was enormous. The shame deafening. What did I do? What could I have done differently?
Then the answers came – not gently, but like a tidal wave that knocked the air out of me.
I saw it.
I had become my mother.
The very person I swore I would never be. The one I tried for decades to avoid becoming. It was a devastating realization. I spiraled. I revisited old wounds, painful memories, the feeling of never being the daughter she wanted. I had done everything I could to not fit her mold.
And then came the next revelation: I had created a mold, too. One of how a mother should be. I measured my mother against it – and she failed. I made her wrong, again and again, because she didn’t live up to my own expectations of what a mother was supposed to be.
And I had done the exact same thing to myself.
I squeezed myself into a mold that didn’t fit. I tried to be a mother unlike mine, so much so that I became a mother my children didn’t need or want. The pattern continued. The hurt rippled through generations.
So I wrote letters. First, to my mother – a letter of gratitude and thanks. A puke moment, if I’m being honest. I wasn’t sure I’d send it. But I did. Then, I wrote one to my daughter, thanking her for the space. For the pause in our relationship that helped me see so much more clearly.
Fear made me hold onto the letters for a week or so. What would sending these letters do? What ripple effect would occur? Would they respond? Did I want them to? So, I waited and really delved into my “why” of sending them. I wanted to be crystal clear that it wasn’t to “fix” a situation or that I wanted something from either of them. I didn’t. I just wanted to really thank them and to let them know that I appreciated their strength in doing so and that I didn’t want or need anything from them in return.
And the insights didn’t stop there.
I saw molds in my marriage. In my ex-husband. In my current one. I had cast rigid expectations – based not on truth, but on what I thought a husband should be. Unsurprisingly, neither fit the mold. I had placed them in an impossible position, based on the image I created from my father – the first man I ever loved, who protected me and cared for me.
One by one, I broke the molds. Metaphorically smashed them. And then came the scariest part:
Who was I without them?
The molds were gone. And in their absence, I found myself sitting in the unfamiliar. Was I still in a mold in my business? My work? My role as a facilitator?
I nearly walked away from it all. Three years of building, creating, facilitating transformation – I considered quitting. The inner voices whispered, You’re not needed. It’s all performative. This is another mold.
But after reflection, prayer, and conversations with trusted soul allies, the truth rose up:
My work is my essence.
There is no mold here. Just truth. Just soul. I help people break the very molds that have imprisoned them – molds of identity, worth, roles, lineage, survival. And from that rubble, I help them rise: sovereign, authentic, empowered.
What molds are you living within? What molds have you created for others?
If this speaks to you, if you feel the tightness of a mold you never asked for, never agreed to – know this:
✨ You are not broken. ✨ You are awakening. ✨ And you are not alone.
Are you ready to break the mold?
Let’s talk. One conversation could be the beginning of your reclamation.
You were never meant to fit a mold. You were born to break it.
#SacredReclamation #BreakingTheMold #GenerationalHealing #SoulAwakening #Sovereignty #PersonalPower #ConsciousParenting #HealingJourney #DeborahMyers