I grew up with a single mother who loved me but carried pain that spilled over no matter how hard she tried to hold it in. Addiction shaped my childhood—the swings between tenderness and chaos, the sense I had to grow up too soon. For years I thought healing meant pretending it hadn’t touched me. As an adult, I found my father—someone I’d imagined but never known. Building a bond from fragments is its own ache; you meet them and the version of yourself that never did. At the same time, I’ve learned to rebuild trust with the parent who raised me while protecting the peace I’ve fought for. Love and pain can coexist. Family doesn’t stop being complicated just because we understand it better. Together, we can explore what healing might look like for you—honoring what still matters, setting boundaries that keep you safe, and building the security every person deserves.