My Story

I’ve been everything to everyone for as long as I can remember.

Before I ever learned how to ask what I needed, I learned how to show up, how to take responsibility, how to be strong. Strength wasn’t a choice for me. It was survival. And it followed me into every season of my life.

I’ve been through abuse, deception, lies, and loneliness. I was hurt by people I trusted. And instead of being allowed to fall apart, I learned how to keep going.

I learned how to survive pain by becoming useful. Needed. Reliable. I learned how to care for others long before I learned how to care for myself. And somewhere in that process, I stopped seeing myself as someone worth protecting.

I confused love with self-sacrifice.

I loved too hard and stayed too long. I gave more than I had and told myself it was loyalty, patience, grace. I told myself I was okay when I wasn’t. I learned how to function through pain and call it strength, how to pick myself up and keep moving as if nothing had happened.

I became very good at surviving what was slowly breaking me.

I made excuses for people’s bad behavior. I protected the people who hurt me because I didn’t want anyone to see them as the bad guy. Even when they weren’t sorry. Even when the harm was repeated. Even when the apology never came.

Somehow, no matter what was done to me, I found a way to blame myself.

I learned how to forgive others, but I didn’t know how to forgive me.

I carried shame that was never mine. I cried in silence. I prayed for comfort and still woke up feeling broken and alone. I kept asking God why I was hurting so much if I was trying so hard to do the right thing.

And then there were losses I never allowed myself to grieve.

I lost children and told myself I had to keep going. Life didn’t stop. Motherhood didn’t pause. Responsibilities didn’t wait. So I swallowed my grief and kept moving, telling myself there would be time later, telling myself other people needed me more.

That grief didn’t disappear. It just stayed quiet. Heavy. Unacknowledged.

Healing didn’t come all at once.

It came when I finally stopped lying to myself.

When I stopped calling endurance love. When I stopped confusing forgiveness with access. When I started identifying my patterns instead of excusing them. When I said the things out loud that I had buried for years.

That was the moment everything shifted.

I am not fully healed. But I am no longer hushed.

I am no longer confusing love with self-betrayal. I am no longer sacrificing myself to be accepted. I am no longer pretending I’m okay just to keep the peace.

I am learning how to sit with my grief instead of outrunning it. How to forgive myself for what I didn’t know then. How to give myself the same compassion I so freely gave to everyone else.

I am becoming the woman God has called me to be. Not because my past disappeared, but because it no longer owns me.

This is not a polished testimony. This is a lived one.

I am still becoming.

But for the first time, I am becoming with myself.

Email: info@ebonydavies.com

Phone: 470-493-5691

Address: Atlanta, GA

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