BREAKING THE CYCLE OF CHILDHOOD WOUNDS...

The greatest battles we fight are not always on the streets or in the workplace—they begin at home, in the very place that was supposed to be our shelter. For many in the Black community, childhood was not a stage of innocence but a silent battlefield. Behind closed doors, scars were formed that never bled, yet shaped everything that followed.

Imagine being a child, believing the one who should protect you was also the one cutting into your spirit with invisible blades. That pain is not spoken of often, because it feels too heavy, too shameful, too personal. Yet it is a truth many carry in silence, dragging it into adulthood.

I, LanceScurv, have seen how these hidden scars affect our people. The way we love, the way we trust, the way we see ourselves—all of it can be tied to wounds planted in us long before we understood what they meant. A mother’s rejection, favoritism, or coldness leaves marks deeper than any belt or curse word ever could.

This presetation is not just about pain. It is about recognition. It is about breaking the cycle so that our children will not inherit the same shadows that tormented us. It is about understanding that what was done to us was not always about us—it was often the reflection of our parent’s own brokenness.

I will walk you through these wounds, how they manifest, and how they haunt the Black community generation after generation. But most of all, I will challenge you to see that the wound is not only a curse—it is also a doorway to transformation.

The Mother’s Wound

Many children grew up wondering why their mother treated them differently. She smiled at others, yet with you, her eyes became knives. You felt as if you were born with an invisible stain, a curse that made you the scapegoat of the family. But the truth is painful—sometimes the favored child is not more loved. They are just less hated.

The question is not “why didn’t she love me like the others?” but “what did I represent to her?” For many mothers, especially those burdened by their own trauma, one child becomes the mirror of everything they could not face. Every time she cut you with words or ignored you with cold indifference, she was fighting against her own demons.

This rejection becomes the foundation of your shadow. You grow up distrusting affection, suspecting every act of kindness as if it carried a hidden blade. This is not paranoia—it is conditioning. You were trained to see the world through broken glass.

The Scapegoat’s Role

In the Black family structure, this role is more common than many admit. One child is chosen to bear the hidden frustrations of the parent. That child becomes the “problem,” not because of anything they did, but because they symbolized something unhealed in the parent’s soul.

Carl Jung called it the “family unconscious.” Each family member plays a role—one may be the favorite, another the peacemaker, and one is marked as the scapegoat. Once you are given that role, it colors every part of your life. It makes you question your worth, your value, and your very right to love.

The terrifying part is that this wound doesn’t die in childhood. It continues to live inside you as an inner executioner, repeating your mother’s voice whenever you try to rise. You may sabotage your success, doubt your beauty, or chase after people who treat you the same way she did.

The Cycle of Inheritance

This wound is not just personal—it is generational. Many Black mothers and fathers carry unhealed pain from their own childhood. Unable to process it, they pass it down, often without knowing. The coldness you received may have been the very same coldness she received from her own mother. The wound moves silently from one generation to the next like a hidden curse.

Unless we stop it, the cycle will not break. We will carry it into our relationships, our parenting, our community leadership, and even our movements for freedom. The shadow we refuse to face personally becomes the weight we drag collectively.

Survival Skills and Their Price

Those who were scapegoated often develop extreme sensitivity. You learned to read body language, tones of voice, and shifting moods because survival demanded it. This hyper-awareness can make you sharp, even gifted. You can see through lies, sense danger before it arrives, and read the unspoken pain in others.

But this survival skill has a cost. It keeps you in a constant state of war. Even in moments of peace, your body expects the storm. You cannot rest. You cannot trust. You cannot fully receive love without suspicion. What once protected you as a child becomes a prison as an adult.

The Transformation

Here is the truth: the wound does not have to remain a curse. It can be transformed into a source of power. Those of us who know rejection know life in its rawest form. We have already learned that love is not perfect, that family is not always safe, that even a mother’s embrace can hide knives.

This painful wisdom, if faced with courage, can make us builders of a new reality. We can become the ones who break the cycle, who say, “it ends with me.” Instead of passing the wound down, we can pass down healing. Instead of repeating the executioner’s voice, we can silence it with affirmations of our worth.

The real danger is not what your mother did to you—it is what you now do to yourself. Her voice may still echo in your mind, but you must ask: is it really her voice, or is it now mine? Each time you doubt yourself, hide your talent, or accept less than you deserve, you repeat the injustice on your own soul.

Freedom begins when you recognize that you are not the scapegoat anymore. The executioner no longer lives in your house. They live in your head—and you have the power to silence them.

We in the Black community must face this truth. The scars left in childhood cannot be ignored. If we bury them, they rise again in new generations. But if we confront them, we can finally heal. We can break the chain.

I, LanceScurv, speak these words with urgency. We cannot afford to stay trapped in shadows. We must face the darkness, not to glorify it, but to transform it into light. Our children depend on it. Our legacy depends on it.

So ask yourself this final question: who are you without the wound? The answer to that question may be the key to your freedom—and the freedom of generations after you.

NEVER STOP MEDITATING FOR THE ANSWERS FROM WITHIN…..

LanceScurv