Reclaiming Joy: Letting Go of Ancestral Patterns & Self-Abandonment

How can we ever feel true joy when we’ve abandoned ourselves?

Sometimes, the ache is so subtle—so constant—that we stop noticing it. A heaviness in the chest, a hum of sadness beneath the surface, a quiet knowing that something within us has long been disconnected.

For many of us, this wound goes back further than we think.

A woman embraces her inner child, peacefully curled up in a pink, vintage-inspired outfit, capturing a moment of nostalgic reflection.

Ancestral Patterns Often Begin in Our Earliest Bonds

I used to ask myself: Why do I feel abandoned by my own mother?

She was physically there. She showed up. But her love felt transactional, tense, even angry. When she gave—money, support, help—I received with guilt, not warmth. I felt burdened by her offerings. Unseen. Alone.

And it didn’t stop with her.

I felt it with other women in my lineage—my aunt, my grandmother. A quiet pressure that said: You must give to be worthy. Your time. Your energy. Your wisdom. If you stop giving, you’ll be left behind.

It created a pattern: overgiving, overperforming, emotional exhaustion.

This isn’t just a personal wound. It’s ancestral.

How to Identify Ancestral Abandonment Patterns:

• You feel guilt when receiving, even simple support or praise.

• Love feels earned, not given freely.

• You associate rest or joy with laziness or selfishness.

• You fear people will leave if you stop overgiving.

• You feel invisible around those closest to you.

• You downplay your emotions, needs, or desires.

But what if it’s not just about them?

What if the deepest wound isn’t being abandoned by others… but the slow, steady ways we’ve abandoned ourselves?

That truth can sting—but it also liberates. Because if we’ve played a role in our own disconnection, we can also reclaim it.

Breaking the Cycle Begins with Coming Home to Yourself

The women before us may not have known another way. They were surviving. Acting out the roles handed to them by society, by patriarchy, by their own unhealed pain.

But we have the chance to choose differently.

Let them go—those who can’t meet the real you.

Because the real you is not too much. She’s expansive. Sensual. Tender. Wild. Worthy of joy—not because she performs, but because she exists.

You might still feel the pain sometimes—watching others bloom while you feel stuck in the soil. Watching your mother glow while you’re learning how to support yourself. Remember: your timeline is sacred.

Ask Yourself: What Have I Received?

So much more than I realised.

Space.

Healing.Stillness.

The gift of presence.

The gift of me.

I used to search for joy in others. Waiting for someone to give it to me. And when they couldn’t, I blamed them too.

But joy? It’s not a gift you wait for.

It’s not loud.

It’s not performative.

Joy is a choice. A frequency. A homecoming.

It’s in the way you stir your coffee.

In the way you breathe.

In how you speak to yourself when no one’s around.

In the moment you stop chasing and simply sit—with all that you are.

And today, I finally came back to myself.No one else returned—but I did.

And in that moment, joy bloomed.

Quietly. Steadily. Powerfully.

And she’s mine.