Growing Up Without the Vocabulary
For most of my childhood, I didn't know there was a difference between surviving and living.
Not because life was easy—but because survival was all I knew. When something is normal long enough, it stops feeling like a condition and starts feeling like reality. You don't question it. You adapt to it.
I didn't have the language to describe what was missing. I just kept moving.
Mistaking Endurance for Life
Looking back, I can see how much of my early life was built around endurance.
Get through the day.
Avoid attention.
Manage the environment.
Stay alert.
That wasn't living—but I didn't know what living looked like. I assumed this was it. That adulthood would simply be more of the same, just with different responsibilities.
Survival felt responsible. Necessary. Even normal.
Seventeen and Stripped of Illusion
It wasn't until I became homeless at seventeen that the difference became undeniable.
There was no structure left to hide behind. No illusion of stability. No version of "this is just how life is" that could explain sleeping without safety or certainty.
I wasn't building a future.
I wasn't discovering who I was.
I was reacting—moment to moment—just trying to get through.
That's when it became clear: I wasn't living at all.
Survival Mode Has a Cost
Survival mode is effective—but expensive.
It keeps you alive, but it narrows your world. Everything becomes about immediacy. Long-term thinking disappears. Dreams feel impractical. Rest feels dangerous.
You don't ask what you want.
You ask what will get you through.
And once survival takes over, it doesn't turn off easily—even when circumstances change.
Learning the Difference After the Fact
What I didn't realize then—but understand now—is that survival teaches skills that living does not.
It teaches awareness.
Resilience.
Adaptability.
But it doesn't teach joy. Or peace. Or how to feel safe when nothing is actively threatening you.
Those things have to be learned later—often awkwardly, often slowly.
Living as a Choice, Not a Given
I wish I could say the shift from surviving to living happened quickly.
It didn't.
It happened gradually, through awareness, faith, and moments where I realized I no longer had to brace for impact. Where I could pause without danger. Where I could plan without fear.
Living didn't arrive as freedom.
It arrived as permission.
Permission to hope.
To imagine.
To build something instead of just enduring it.
Still Learning How to Live
Even now, I catch myself slipping back into survival patterns.
Over-preparing.
Staying guarded.
Confusing peace with vulnerability.
But I'm learning to recognize the difference sooner. To notice when I'm merely enduring and gently remind myself that I'm allowed to live.
Survival kept me alive.
Living is teaching me who I am.
And maybe that's the real work now—not forgetting where I cam from, but refusing to stay there.
"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." — John 10:10