They Tried to Break Me Again, But I Got Louder - Part 2
Chapter 5: The Storm
I was honest about everything, from my own struggles, the reasons behind my choices and I didn’t shy away from telling the full truth. I opened my home, opened my mouth, and opened the case file of everything he had done. I told them about the criminal activity, the addiction, the rage. I didn’t hold back.
Even then, I said, “Help him. Try to get him into rehab. Into AA.” Because that’s who I am, even when it broke me. But this? This was a tactic, a final attempt to twist reality and weaponise what I loved most, my children. Still, I didn’t run. I didn’t hide.
I stood firm with the truth in my hands and God at my back.
Because I knew who I was and I knew the mother I had been, even when no one was watching. I wasn’t perfect. But I was present, I was consistent, I wasn’t supported. But I held us together with nothing but my bare hands and a breaking heart.
I had spent years shielding my children from his outbursts, cleaning up after his chaos, and building stability in the eye of his storm and this accusation, it wasn’t his final storm.
But I didn’t drown. Because I knew the truth and so did my children. So did God. So I stayed, I kept showing up, I kept mothering. Because love isn’t proven in courtrooms or written in reports, love is proven in presence, in bedtime stories, in lunchboxes, in school meetings, and in standing tall when everything inside you wants to collapse.
That’s what I did.
They tried to call me unsafe. But I was and still am the safest place my children have ever known and no lie, no slander, no silence can ever erase that truth.
Chapter 6: Reclaiming Myself in Pieces
I didn’t come back all at once.
There was no grand moment of arrival. No spotlight shining on a triumphant return. Healing, for me, looked more like quietly picking up the pieces of myself I had been told to ignore, hide, or abandon. It happened slowly, in stillness, in softness, in sacred defiance.
I began to reclaim my selfhood not in huge ways, but in small, powerful ones.
I meditated — not always perfectly, but with intention.
I played music in the kitchen again, letting my hips sway and my heart soften.
I took silly videos with my kids, letting our laughter echo through walls once filled with tension.
I prayed — not for rescue, but for strength, for clarity, for roots to hold steady.
I cried — not because I was falling apart, but because I was finally letting go.
These weren’t just daily acts. They were declarations. Every breath of joy was rebellion, and every laugh was defiance. Every moment I showed up for my boys was proof: I am not what they said. I am not what they tried to reduce me to.
I am not broken, I am rebuilding. I am not lost, I am coming home. I am not gone, I am right here and I am rising.
Piece by piece. Step by step. Breath by breath.
I am the woman who didn’t disappear, the mother who stayed and the soul that chose truth, even when it was messy.
I am still here softer, stronger, more honest and more faithful than ever before. This time, I’m choosing me without apology. I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m becoming.
Faith Reflections: I Became What I Once Prayed For
God didn’t give me a way around the fire, He gave me strength to walk through it.
He didn’t remove the accusations, He revealed the truth through me.
He didn’t silence the rumours, He made sure my actions were louder.
I didn’t just survive.
I became the living proof that no lie can define me when God is the one writing my next chapter.
Affirmation
“I am not the version of me that others fear or fabricate. I am the mother who stayed, the woman who rose, the soul that refused to be rewritten. I am safe. I am present. I am enough.”
Prayer
Lord, remind me who I am when the world tries to rewrite me.
When whispers become accusations, and truth is buried beneath noise, anchor me.
Let my voice be calm, my soul be steady, and my footsteps be fearless.
Thank You for standing with me in the fire.
Thank You for refining me instead of letting me shatter.
When I feel forgotten, remind me I am held.
When I feel attacked, remind me I am covered.
I am not afraid to be seen anymore.
Because You’ve seen it all and still, You call me worthy.
Amen.