The Day My Childhood Ended
There are moments in life that shape us long before we understand why.
For me, that moment came at 13 years old.
My family was going through a difficult time, and my mother made a decision that led her onto a different path. As a child, I didn’t understand the complexities adults carry, the emotions they battle, or the pain they hide. I only understood the quiet that settled into our home the day she left.
Suddenly it was just me and my daddy, trying to navigate a world that felt unfamiliar. He was a good man with a tender heart, and I watched him try to stay strong even when it was clear he was hurting. There’s a kind of ache a child feels when they see their parent in pain — a mix of confusion, fear, and love all tangled together.
And something in me shifted.
I stepped into responsibilities because I loved him…
not because anyone asked me to,
not because I had to,
but because I felt it in my heart.
I cooked.
I cleaned.
I worked.
I grew up quietly, and quickly.
I didn’t resent it — I adapted.
I didn’t hate anyone — I just learned.
I didn’t become bitter — I became strong.
That season wasn’t about blame or anger.
It was about survival, love, and learning how to keep going when life doesn’t go the way you expect. It was the beginning of a strength I didn’t realize I was building — the same strength that carried me through motherhood, loss, nursing school, grief, and every difficult chapter that came after.
Looking back now, I see that 13-year-old girl clearly.
She didn’t understand everything happening around her — how could she?
But she did what she knew: she helped, she tried, she cared, she grew.
And that girl is still inside me.
She’s the reason I’m compassionate.
She’s the reason I work so hard.
She’s the reason I show up for others the way I do.
She’s the reason Caring With Karen exists at all.
Because strength isn’t built in the easy seasons.
It’s built in the moments we never asked for, but somehow survived.
As I step into this new chapter — choosing to go back for my RN at 47 — I carry her with me.
Her grit.
Her heart.
Her resilience.
She didn’t know it then, but she was preparing me for the woman I would one day become.
And today, I honor her by continuing to rise.
If my story resonates with you and you’re navigating your own hard chapter, you don’t have to walk it alone.
This is why I created Caring With Karen — a place for compassion, clarity, and support.
💛 Book a session: caringwithkaren.com
There are moments in life that shape us long before we understand why.
For me, that moment came at 13 years old.
My family was going through a difficult time, and my mother made a decision that led her onto a different path. As a child, I didn’t understand the complexities adults carry, the emotions they battle, or the pain they hide. I only understood the quiet that settled into our home the day she left.
Suddenly it was just me and my daddy, trying to navigate a world that felt unfamiliar. He was a good man with a tender heart, and I watched him try to stay strong even when it was clear he was hurting. There’s a kind of ache a child feels when they see their parent in pain — a mix of confusion, fear, and love all tangled together.
And something in me shifted.
I cooked.
I cleaned.
I worked.
I grew up quietly, and quickly.
I didn’t resent it — I adapted.
I didn’t hate anyone — I just learned.
I didn’t become bitter — I became strong.
That season wasn’t about blame or anger.
It was about survival, love, and learning how to keep going when life doesn’t go the way you expect. It was the beginning of a strength I didn’t realize I was building — the same strength that carried me through motherhood, loss, nursing school, grief, and every difficult chapter that came after.
Looking back now, I see that 13-year-old girl clearly.
She didn’t understand everything happening around her — how could she?
But she did what she knew: she helped, she tried, she cared, she grew.
And that girl is still inside me.
She’s the reason I’m compassionate.
She’s the reason I work so hard.
She’s the reason I show up for others the way I do.
She’s the reason Caring With Karen exists at all.
Because strength isn’t built in the easy seasons.
It’s built in the moments we never asked for, but somehow survived.
As I step into this new chapter — choosing to go back for my RN at 47 — I carry her with me.
Her grit.
Her heart.
Her resilience.
She didn’t know it then, but she was preparing me for the woman I would one day become.
And today, I honor her by continuing to rise.
If my story resonates with you and you’re navigating your own hard chapter, you don’t have to walk it alone.
This is why I created Caring With Karen — a place for compassion, clarity, and support.
💛 Book a session: caringwithkaren.com