Cracked Open: Why I’m Rebuilding, One Brick at a Time
Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve shared a lot about the people who make up my circle—the sisters, friends, and soul-family who lift me up. But today, I want to turn the focus inward and share a little more of my story—the story behind your host, the woman behind this blog, and the journey that led me here.
We often let our past define us. But our past? It’s just a chapter. A necessary one, sure—but not the whole book.
A Quick Backstory
I was a child of divorce. I still remember the book my parents used to break the news: Dinosaur Divorce. If I remember the title decades later, it tells you something.
Before that, I remember arguments. Finances. Distance. My mother, overwhelmed by her own unhealed trauma. My dad, across the country, later battling a disease that drained the life from him and led to a transplant during my college years. There was also an "evil stepmother"—which, by Disney logic, technically makes me a princess, right?
By the time I was 13, I had already experienced sexual assault. Twice.
Then came the years of partying, welcoming the wrong people in, staying too long, and failing to set boundaries because I didn’t think I was allowed to have any.
There were abusive relationships. Codependency. Confusion. Shame. And, eventually, growth.
Owning My Role in My Own Story
It was a friend who finally said the words that cracked something open:
"It’s them, not you."
I appreciated it—but I also knew it wasn’t just them.
There was something in me—some wound, some belief, some pattern—that was allowing certain people in and worse, letting them stay. Low self-worth. Generational guilt. Trauma. A complete lack of boundaries. It wasn’t just happening to me—I was playing a role in it.
And if I was the main character in my life (which I am), then I had to take some responsibility for the script.
Wounded people wound others. But we get to choose whether or not we continue the cycle. We get to choose to heal.
We get to squelch the bleed before we spill on those we love.
No One’s Coming to Save You (And That’s OK)
Every fairytale I was raised on had a hero who swooped in to save the princess. Some people are lucky enough to find that hero.
But for most of us?
We have to choose to save ourselves.
You rarely realize you're the victim of a villain until it’s too late. Abuse can creep in like fog—slow, quiet, disorienting. For me, it was fear that kept me stuck. But my son? He was my catalyst. I didn’t want him to think love looked like that. I didn’t want him to treat women that way, or worse—think it was normal for a woman to be treated like that.
Looking back, I can see how much I did for others. For my kids. For love.
But I wasn’t doing those things for me.
I didn’t believe I was worthy of saving just because I existed.
I didn’t think I mattered unless I was doing something for someone else.
But here's the truth I came to understand:
You don’t need an external reason to make the hard decisions.
You are reason enough.
Staying Soft in a World That Tries to Harden You
People often say I’m “too nice.” One friend even joked about signing me up for B*tch Lessons.
And sure, part of me envied people who could build walls fast and cut people off like a guillotine.
But I didn’t want to become jaded.
I wanted to stay soft—but protected. Kind—but boundaried. Loving—but wise.
I didn’t want the people who tried to destroy my softness to win.
I didn’t want to become the same monster they had become.
So I made a choice: to let my tenderness be my superpower, not my weakness.
Healing is Brutal—but Worth It
Let me be real: Healing is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
You have to crack yourself open. See what’s really there.
You have to look at the mess, not with judgment, but with compassion.
It’s not about blaming others. It’s about accountability.
It’s about learning to love yourself with the same fire you use to protect your kids or hype your friends.
It’s about choosing to stay in integrity with yourself—even when it hurts.
For a long time, I told others:
You are worthy just because you exist. You don’t have to earn it.
But somewhere along the line, I stopped believing that for myself.
That’s what I’m unlearning now.
Even starting this blog, I thought:
What could I possibly offer? Who would want to hear my story?
But I’m learning to silence that imposter voice.
Because I do have value.
Because I am worthy.
And because we all are.
There’s a quote I love:
“A bottle of water is worth $1 at the grocery store and $5 at the airport. Same bottle—different setting.”
So if you don’t feel valued, maybe it’s time to change the setting.
And if you can’t do that yet, maybe it’s time to change the mindset.
The right people will see your worth, even when you’re struggling to see it yourself.
Why We're Here
This blog exists to build—together.
Through healing. Through truth. Through community.
I don’t have it all figured out. I’m not here to preach.
But I am here—one brick at a time—constructing something worthy of the woman I am becoming.
The mother. The friend. The human.
And in that process, I’ve cracked myself wide open—and I offer that vulnerability to you, not as weakness, but as a reminder that there is strength in being seen.
May it give you the courage to do the same.
Poetry was part of The Building Life from the beginning.
So later this week, I’ll be sharing the first new poem since the relaunch:
"You Did Something to Me."
Until then, thank you for being here.
For building with me.
With love and cracked-open grace,
Lauren
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