Breaking the Cycle We’re Born Into: A Reflection

I came across an anonymous post on a military spouse Facebook page that stopped me in my tracks.

A woman’s husband had gone out with a coworker at 8 PM. By the next morning—over twelve hours later—no calls, no texts. She’d tried reaching him, nothing. She even called the ER to see if he was there. Her worry had turned into anger. She’d been through this before, nights that ended with him talking to other women.

Her post went deeper, touching on something I’ve seen and felt in my own life—the cycle of abuse.

Yes, I’ve seen it in the military. However, I come from the civilian world where it’s just as common. The difference is that in the military, it’s more obvious—especially when you live on base. It’s literally its own private city with people who can only come in if they have the access. It’s a closed-off ecosystem, and when patterns of neglect, betrayal, or abuse happen inside it, they’re amplified. Everyone sees. Everyone whispers.

Her words about service members abusing their partners physically, verbally, emotionally, financially, and psychologically weren’t an exaggeration. And she was right—women aren’t exempt. It happens on both sides.

But what struck me most was the question hidden between her lines: If it’s happened before, what makes you think it won’t happen again?

That lingering hope is dangerous. It’s not love—it’s survival dressed up as love.

And for many of us, the roots of that survival go back to childhood. For me, I grew up watching my dad cheat. I saw half-sisters my age. I saw my mom fight with her partner—sometimes physically—and then make up like nothing happened. As kids, we hear it all, see it all, and somewhere deep inside, we file it away as normal.

When the abuse started in my own marriage, I didn’t notice. When it escalated, I thought, I can handle this. Until one day I woke the fuck up.

I went to therapy.
I took classes to understand myself.
I raised my standards.
I set boundaries.
I became untouchable. Unbreakable.

I’m not claiming innocence. I’ve been verbally abusive when I was hurting. Words can cut deep, and my touch can be sharp when I’m in pain. Some of that was pregnancy and postpartum—twice. Some of it was never being taught how to regulate my emotions in the first place.

I’m not here to blame my parents. They failed in some areas, sure, but they also didn’t have the resources I have now. I’m an adult, and I’m responsible for my own healing.

That’s the difference between who I was and who I am now—
I no longer mistake surviving for living.