“I’m a Little Bit Hurt, But a Lot More Free” – Walking Away, Healing, and Building My Own Village

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What happens when you grow up in a big family, spend years twisting yourself to be loved, and still get left behind? You walk away. You heal. You cry to your favourite lyrics. And eventually—you build your own damn village. This is what healing really looks like: ADHD, chaos, dark humour, and finally, freedom.

I’m a Little Bit Hurt, But a Lot More Free

(A chaotic survival guide to walking away from family and finding the version of you they tried to bury)

 I grew up in a massive family.

My dad had six siblings. My mum had two. They all had kids.

Cousins everywhere. Loud dinners. Bigger arguments. Constant competition.


You’d think that kind of family would feel like a safety net.

But honestly? It felt more like a reality show where the prize was “who can fake it the hardest.”


I was the only child in the middle of it.

On my mum’s side, I was the oldest grandchild—expected to be the example.

On my dad’s side, I was one of the babies—forgotten, brushed aside, not quite worth the time.


And then you throw in undiagnosed ADHD—aka emotional fireworks, accidental chaos, and all the feelings all the time—and boom:

Welcome to being the family scapegoat.

Too loud.
Too sensitive.
Too dramatic.
Too much.

So I tried to be small.
I tried to be quiet.
I over-explained everything just to make people stay.

But no matter how good I was, it was never enough.
I was still the black sheep.
Still the one they talked about when I left the room.
Still the problem.

The Final Straw

Then came the final straw—a huge drama with my mum.
I won’t get into all of it here, but it was the moment everything finally shattered.
The illusion, the performance, the hope that maybe I could be loved for who I really was.

That was the day I realised:

No matter how much I twisted myself into something tolerable, I’d never be enough for people who only wanted the version of me they could control.

So I made the choice.
A messy, painful, scream-crying-in-the-bath kind of choice.

I walked away.


And I kept walking.
Right out of the toxicity.
Right into the terrifying unknown.


The Song That Carried Me 


While I was grieving everything I’d lost—even the fake stuff—I found a song.
That one lyric?

“I’m a little bit hurt, but a lot more free.”

I’ve sobbed to it in the bath, whispered it into a tear-stained pillow, and stared into the bathroom mirror like a main character in a low-budget drama.
But every time I said it, it felt more true.

Because I am a little bit hurt.

But I’m a hell of a lot more free.


What Healing Actually Looks Like


Grieving people who are still alive

Mourning a version of “family” that never existed

Learning to stop performing for people who never saw you

Unlearning guilt you never deserved to carry

Building a life that doesn’t revolve around being palatable


And now?

  • Dave’s family? Absolutely incredible. They love me and the kids with no strings attached.
  • My best friends? The kind who show up, hold space, and tell me I’m magic when I feel like a bin fire.
  •  THE COVEN My crochet & ADHD crew? Neurospicy, chaotic, kind—my handmade, handpicked, found-family chaos coven. We’re loud, weird, real, and we stay. https://discord.gg/QVvzzNSw If you ever feel lonely, please feel welcome to join us.

The Truth That Changed Everything


I didn’t just lose a family.
I found myself.

And yeah, some days still hurt.
I still get triggered.
I still wonder if I made it all up.

But then I remember:

I didn’t destroy the family.
I just stopped bleeding for it.


When the Guilt Creeps In...


When that guilt creeps in—when your brain plays old tapes of “too much,” “too dramatic,” “too sensitive”—here’s what I say:

You are not who they said you were.

You’re not broken.
You’re not selfish.
You were just trying to survive in a space that never made room for you to grow.

A Little Bit Hurt, But a Lot More Free


Here’s your survival guide (and mine):

1. Stop explaining your worth.
You don’t need to audition for love.

2. Let go of the version of family you hoped for.
Grieve it. Burn it. Make space for what’s real.

3. Build your own village.
Find the people who don’t flinch at your truth.

4. Say the damn lyric out loud when it hurts:
“I’m a little bit hurt, but a lot more free.”


5. Start believing that you are not who they decided you were.
That version of you they created? Not your responsibility.
You were never broken—just inconvenient.

didn’t get the village I was promised.


So I built one.

And it’s bold, messy, vibrant, neurodivergent, tangled in yarn and tears and inappropriate laughter—and it’s mine.

So if you’re sitting in the silence wondering if you made the right choice—

Let me tell you:

You did.

You might be a little bit hurt.

But you’re a lot more free.

And that freedom?
It’s where the real you finally lives.
🧡






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