Inherited Pieces

As I have been exploring my identity and discovering more about myself through this blog, I have come to realize something meaningful: I am a creation of the people I have loved.

Each of us is made up of those who came before us. We carry their stories, their habits, their strengths, their fears, their lessons, and their love. Some pieces are easy to recognize. Others show up quietly in the way we move through the world.

Each morning, when I wake up and thank God for another day, I think of my aunt. She has always been someone who looks for the positive, keeps going, and gives thanks. She listens without judgment, and in many ways, she helped grow some of the basic skills I now use as a therapist. Through her, I learned the importance of presence, professionalism, and showing up for others with care.

As I make my way to my office to design my website, decorate my space, and create something that feels like my own, I can feel the creativity of my mother. Growing up, she was always making things for me—creative items for my games, school projects, poster boards, and even my seventh-grade race car. She has always had an eye for bringing ideas to life.

I also carry my mother’s compassion. As a therapist and as a mom, I often feel the ways she taught me to care for the needs of those around me. She showed me what it means to help, to notice, and to offer support in whatever way you can.

When I sit down to write my blog posts, work on my novel, or create something from my thoughts, I think of my other aunt and her creative writing. She is the one who writes songs, stories, and poems. I can see pieces of her in the way I use words to make meaning of my experiences. She has always had a love for people, creativity, and expression, and I believe some of that lives in me too.

At night, when I sit down with hot tea and a book, I think of my grandmother. She was always reading when I was growing up, and she helped expand my love of books. She also taught me how to make hot tea—with a drop of milk and plenty of sugar. From her, I learned the comfort of a good story, the strength of speaking my mind, and sometimes, the ability to set feelings aside and keep going when life requires it.

Throughout my days, I also notice pieces of my grandfather in me. His cautious and protective nature. His awareness of the world around him. His instinct to keep his family safe. When I was young, he was our protector. During storms, he was the one who made sure we were safe and prepared. I carry that sense of caution with me, especially when it comes to protecting the people I love.

I know I am also made from my great-aunts and uncles, my cousins, my friends, and so many others who have shaped me along the way. I am a collaboration of the people I have loved, the people who have loved me, and the pieces I have chosen to carry forward.

But inheritance is not always simple.

Just as we inherit strengths, we can also inherit struggles. For years, I have navigated anxiety and depression—both of which run through my family roots. My cautious nature can sometimes become overwhelming when anxiety takes over. My family also has moments of impatience, and I can recognize that in myself when I become easily frustrated or respond too quickly. I have also struggled with boundaries. My family has always been close, and saying “no” has not always come easily. In turn, I have had to learn that loving others does not mean losing myself.

These are lessons I am still learning.

I am aware of my weaknesses, and I continue to work on them. I am learning which inherited pieces to honor, which to soften, and which to reshape into something healthier.

We are all shaped by others. Some pieces help us grow, and others challenge us to heal. But part of becoming ourselves is deciding what we want to keep, what we want to change, and what we want to pass forward.

When we lose the people we love, we never truly lose them completely. We continue to carry the pieces they left within us.

We are layers of stories, memories, lessons, and love. We are shaped by the generations before us, and each of us becomes another piece added to the story.

Maybe none of us are made up of just ourselves.

Maybe we are collections of stories, traits, memories, and love carried forward from those who came before us.