What We’re Told, What We Believe, and What We Choose

Introducing My New Blog Series

When I was about twenty-two, a childhood friend once asked me:

“Do you believe in free will?”

“Of course,” I said.

At the time, I was newly out from under strict religious parents and doing whatever I wanted, even when the consequences were messy. I believed every choice was mine.

She shook her head.

“There is no such thing. We are conditioned […] Well, I have a master’s. I know.”” she said, as if the degree had granted her ownership of truth.

Her comment hit a tender spot. It touched my shame about not having a degree yet, and it carried the implication that she understood something I didn’t. Here is what I understand now:

She was right about free will being shaped by conditioning.
She was wrong about me being unaware of it.

Even then, I already sensed that our choices were shaped by the environments we grew up in. I had watched conditioning play out in our community, in our church, and in our families. Sometimes I felt like I was the only one who noticed. What I did not have yet was the language or confidence to describe what I saw.

Now I do have a master’s, and years of experience with people across many systems. All of it confirmed what I knew intuitively:

We do not only inherit trauma. We inherit stories about who we are allowed to be.

Stories about what we owe, when to stay quiet, how we should show gratitude, and what we must sacrifice to keep the peace. Stories about identity, loyalty, limits, and possibility. These private stories often mirror the larger cultural stories we are taught.

These inherited stories don’t just show up on families. They show up nationally, too. Which brings me to Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is one of the clearest examples of this kind of inherited narrative.

Most of us grew up with the school-friendly version: Pilgrims and Native Americans sharing a peaceful meal, unity, gratitude, and a simple origin story.

The real history is far more painful.
Yet the softened version is the one repeated, celebrated, and taught to children until it becomes unquestioned.

This is how conditioning works.
Quiet.
Familiar.
Comfortable enough that we do not pause to examine it.

The stories we inherit in families, culture, religion, politics, and even therapy function in a very similar way.

Why I am Writing This Series

In every setting I have worked in, including therapy, anti-trafficking work, juvenile justice, immigrant communities, spiritual trauma, child welfare, and national trainings, people name the same feelings again and again:

“I feel trapped.”
“I do not know how to leave.”
“I keep choosing the same thing.”
“I feel guilty taking care of myself.”
“I do not know whose expectations I am living for.”

People often believe they are making fully free choices.
In reality, they are responding to the stories they were handed long before they could understand them.

This series is about those stories.
The ones we grow up with.
The ones we carry.
The ones we question.
The ones we eventually outgrow.

Next Month’s Post

In December, I will be exploring one of the loudest and most universal forms of modern conditioning: holiday consumer culture, advertisements, influencers, and MLMs.

These systems shape our decisions in ways that feel personal but are actually designed.

As we move through this holiday season, I hope you approach your inherited stories with gentleness.

Some of them protected you.
Some of them restricted you.
And some of them are finally ready to be rewritten.

This series is my way of walking through that process with you.

The “Puerto Rican” in Me

As a woman of color who has had to navigate environments where defense mechanisms were shaped by the realities of living in marginalized communities, the complexity of my healing journey is further compounded. When I find myself in moments of anger, I am acutely aware of the ways in which I was forced to defend myself in the past come to the surface. The colonization experienced by my ancestors is echoed in the expressions of my rage, adding layers of historical and systemic trauma to my personal experiences. When did I begin to associate the experience of feeling deep, intense, anger with my identity as a Puerto Rican?

Growing up in environments where survival often meant adopting behaviors and attitudes that were born out of the struggle against oppression, I learned to protect myself using mechanisms that were shaped by the realities of systemic inequality and injustice. This has deeply influenced the way I navigate and express my emotions, particularly anger. I have had to confront the ways in which these coping mechanisms, while necessary for survival in those environments, may not always serve me well in my current context.

 In moments of intense anger, I find that the "Puerto Rican" comes out (a manifestation I recognize is rooted in the programmed association of my ethnicity with passion and rage) and I am reminded of the generational trauma and resilience that have been passed down through my lineage. I am reminded of the ways in which my ancestors were forced to fight for their survival and dignity in the face of immense adversity. My rage becomes not only a personal expression but also a manifestation of the collective pain and resilience of my community.

Navigating the intersection of my personal healing journey with the historical and systemic context of being a woman of color adds layers of complexity to my self-reflection. I am constantly grappling with the challenge of honoring my history and experiences while also striving to transcend the limitations and traumas that have been imposed upon me by societal injustices.

"It is through this deep personal engagement that I am better equipped to approach my work. As a clinician, I recognize that the unique intersection of my identity and experiences shapes my approach to healing., It informs my understanding of the profound impact that systemic oppression and intergenerational trauma can have on individuals and communities of color. It also deepens my commitment to creating a space where these experiences are acknowledged, validated, and addressed with cultural humility and sensitivity.

In my journey of healing, I am learning to integrate the complexities of my identity and experiences into a narrative of empowerment and resilience. I am committed to engaging with my anger and pain in ways that honor the historical and systemic context from which they emerge while also seeking pathways to healing and growth that are affirming and transformative. This process requires a deep sense of self-awareness, compassion, and a commitment to dismantling the internalized oppressions that shape my responses to the world around me.

As I continue to navigate the complexities of my healing journey as a woman of color, I am reminded of the strength and resilience that have sustained me, and I am committed to cultivating spaces of healing that honor the fullness of our experiences and identities, acknowledging the profound impact of historical and systemic injustices while striving for liberation and wholeness.