There are moments that divide your life into “before” and “after.” Identity theft became that line for me in 2025.

Close friends noticed my absence. They watched me fall offline. They saw the gap. They chose not to respond.

Five months disappeared into fear, paperwork, silence, and rebuilding a life no one could see. But the trauma wasn’t only the impersonation. The deeper pain came from realizing how quickly people vanished when my world collapsed. Friends who knew where I lived didn’t knock once when they noticed I had disappeared from social media altogether. People who said “reach out anytime” avoided the discomfort completely.

My adult body handled logistics. My inner child handled abandonment. And the holidays made everything feel sharper than it should.

Why Crisis Makes Inner Child Wounds Feel Larger

Moments of crisis often awaken the oldest parts of us. Your inner child listens closely when life falls apart. Mine whispered familiar lines I thought I outgrew.

No one is coming. You are on your own. You must survive without help again.

Crisis doesn’t create new wounds. It exposes the ones we carried since childhood. The patterns repeat until we finally see them clearly. The body keeps a private record of every moment we felt small, unseen, or unprotected. Crisis activates that memory without our permission.

During identity theft, every unanswered message felt like emotional déjà vu. Every silent friend reminded me how often my needs went unnoticed when I was young.

My adult voice said, “They’re busy.” My inner child said, “You don’t matter enough.”

When holidays arrive, these wounds grow louder because the world celebrates connection while many of us sit with absence.

How Conditional Friendships Trigger Abandonment Pain

Conditional friendships are confusing because they don’t end with honesty. They end with absence. They end with excuses. They end with people choosing comfort over compassion while pretending nothing changed.

People disappear the moment your life requires depth. People who adored your joy refused to hold your fear. People who thrived beside your confidence avoided you when you were shaken. People who celebrated your wins evaporated when you needed support instead of celebration.

I noticed the truth as soon as I returned online. The invitations came quickly. Partnerships, events, outings, photos, perks — everyone resurfaced the moment I became “useful” again. They wanted proximity to my image, not responsibility for my pain.

Because when my life required presence, they went silent. When I needed shelter, they were suddenly unavailable. When I needed support, they offered distance packaged as concern. Their absence said what their kindness never would: they only knew how to love the version of me that didn’t need anything.

Crisis becomes a quiet but brutal teacher. It shows you exactly who was connected to your heart… and who was only connected to the benefits of knowing you.

Why the Holidays Make Abandonment Feel More Real

The holiday season carries an expectation of warmth, belonging, and community. But for many adults, especially those carrying childhood wounds, it becomes the hardest emotional mirror. The world tells us to gather, celebrate, and come home — while some of us are still learning what “home” even means.

This Thanksgiving I sat alone in San Francisco without a meal, an invitation, or a simple check-in. I wasn’t welcomed into a single home as an orphaned resident rebuilding my life. When I tried to take myself out, I was discriminated against for bringing my four-pound service animal. I wrote a Yelp review and went home feeling invisible again, wondering how an entire city could feel so silent around one person.

Christmas is approaching, and the pattern looks the same. No invitations. No warmth.
No place to land softly. No voice saying, “Come sit with us for a while.”

Holidays magnify loneliness because they highlight the gap between what we needed growing up and what we still hope to find now. They remind us how deeply we long for chosen family. They show us which connections were genuine — and which ones were seasonal.

When holidays mirror our loneliness, they trigger the older parts of us that still crave safety. We feel the absence of people who promised connection. We feel the silence of friends who once celebrated our wins. We feel the truth that some people want access to our light, but not responsibility for our darkness.

Holiday seasons don’t always break us. They reveal the wounds we finally need to heal… the ones we can no longer carry into another year.

What Crisis Reveals About People’s Capacity

Healing requires recognizing that abandonment isn’t always personal. Sometimes it’s about capacity, not character.

Some people cannot sit with discomfort. Some cannot witness hardship. Some cannot stretch beyond their emotional bandwidth. Some love you only when your life looks easy. And some hide their selfishness behind polite excuses that sound sympathetic but offer nothing real.

I learned that “We’re very busy” is often code for “Your pain is not my priority.” “I have family coming” often means “I won’t rearrange anything for your well being.” “Our plates are full” becomes a gentle way of saying, “We see your struggle, but we will not make space for it.”

These responses look polite on the surface, but they reveal the truth beneath them: they don’t want the responsibility of showing up. Not when it’s inconvenient. Not when it’s real. Not when it requires them to stretch.

Crisis forces you to stop assigning loyalty to people who are not equipped for depth. It teaches you that presence is not a casual offering — it is a spiritual responsibility. Anyone can enjoy the easy parts of your life; very few will hold the difficult ones.

Even college friends and people I’d known for over ten years disappeared during my hardest season. They taught me the most painful truth: I was never too hard to love. They were simply unwilling to love someone who needed more than entertainment.

Rebuilding Alone Still Counts as Healing

I survived identity theft, housing instability, and emotional abandonment without a reliable support system. For a long time, that truth embarrassed me. I thought it made me look unwanted or unsupported. Now I understand it showed me my power long before I recognized it.

I walked through a chapter that would have crushed many people, and I walked through it without a safety net. I handled paperwork, fear, uncertainty, disappearance, and recovery with a strength I didn’t know I had. I kept moving even when no one checked in. I rebuilt identity, stability, and self-trust from the ground up.

Walking through crisis alone clarified everything. I saw who belonged in my future. I saw who only wanted access to my best moments. I saw who slipped away the moment my life required effort. I saw that solitude didn’t weaken me — it sharpened my intuition, my boundaries, and my understanding of real love.

Rebuilding alone is not a punishment. It is preparation. It teaches you resilience, discernment, and self-reliance in a way community cannot. It brings you back to yourself with a clarity that only comes from surviving what you thought would break you.

When my life stabilizes, I will remember this chapter. I will remember who held distance instead of compassion. I will remember who my life felt safer without. And the people who left me in the dark will not return in the light I am rebuilding for myself.

If the Holidays Trigger Old Wounds, You’re Not Alone

If the holidays stir something heavy in you — grief, loneliness, confusion, resentment, numbness, or a quiet ache you can’t explain — I need you to hear this clearly:

Your pain is valid. Your loneliness is real. Your story deserves compassion, not dismissal. Nothing about your experience makes you weak or dramatic.

Holiday wounds come in many forms. Some people feel abandoned. Some feel unseen in rooms full of people. Some feel pressure to pretend. Some feel the weight of perfection they can’t meet. Some feel grief for people who are gone. Some feel grief for people who are still alive but emotionally unreachable. Some feel the sting of invitations that never came. Some feel the exhaustion of giving everything and receiving nothing. Some feel deeply loved yet still profoundly alone.

Pain doesn’t discriminate. It touches the wealthy, the successful, the accomplished, the admired, the beautiful, the private, and the quiet. Even people with full calendars and full homes can feel empty inside. Even people surrounded by family can feel like they don’t belong.

You’re not broken — you’re human.

And when the holidays arrive, they turn up the volume on every wound we’ve buried throughout the year. They awaken the parts of us that still long for safety, connection, and unconditional love. You’re experiencing the echo of old wounds — not a reflection of your worth, and not evidence that you are hard to love.

Many adults carry childhood abandonment into adulthood without realizing it. Crisis makes it impossible to ignore. Holiday seasons magnify the ache even more — because they show us what we needed, what we lost, and what we still hope is possible.

But this moment is not the end of your story. It is the invitation to heal the parts of you that learned to survive alone. It is the doorway into a softer, more honest relationship with yourself. It is the beginning of your healing, not the conclusion of your pain.

Your Healing Begins When You See the Pattern Clearly

If this season is resurfacing old wounds — if the silence feels heavy, if friendships feel conditional, if abandonment feels familiar — you are not broken. You are simply becoming aware.

Awareness is painful, but it is also sacred. It is the moment your inner child finally feels seen. It is the moment you recognize the pattern instead of blaming yourself for the wound.

My books were born from this exact place. They guide you through inner child healing, emotional recovery, and rebuilding a sense of safety that comes from within.

They were written for the nights when no one checks on you. For the mornings you wake up alone. For the holidays that feel heavier than they should. For the seasons when old wounds feel brand new again.

Explore my healing series, written under my pen name S. M. Weng

These pages will not save you — they will support you as you save yourself. They are for anyone ready to heal the parts of themselves that were never protected, never prioritized, never held with the tenderness they deserved.

You deserve a holiday season that doesn’t reopen old wounds. You deserve connection that doesn’t disappear when life becomes difficult. You deserve relationships that are consistent, not conditional. And you deserve to rebuild a life where presence is real, love is reliable, and belonging becomes your birthright — not your battle.

Even if no one showed up for you this year, you showed up for yourself. You reached for healing instead of hardness. You chose awareness instead of avoidance. You kept going even when no one witnessed your strength.

And that is where true healing begins — with the moment you decide your story will not end in abandonment, but in becoming whole.

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Support the Storytelling

This work isn’t sponsored, branded, or cushioned by a safety net. It’s written alone, from lived experience, during a year when I survived identity theft, housing instability, and the kind of silence that forces you to rebuild from the inside out.

There is no team behind this website. No corporate backing. Just me — writing through the very wounds I’m trying to help others understand.

If my words helped you feel less alone this season… If a paragraph reflected a part of you you’ve never said out loud… If this story gave your inner child language it never had…
or if you simply believe in creator-led work that comes from truth, not algorithms — there are small ways to support it.

Not out of obligation, but as a way of honoring the exchange.

Every coffee helps keep this space alive while I rebuild my life in real time. It supports the hours spent writing through uncertainty, the nights spent choosing reflection over collapse, and the emotional labor required to tell stories most people hide.

Independent storytelling only survives when the people it resonates with choose to stand behind it. If this piece meant something to you, even in a quiet way, your support would mean more than you know.

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About the Author

Susye Weng-Reeder, known online as SincerelySusye™, is a Google Verified Internet Personality, best-selling author writing under the pen name S. M. Weng, and intuitive spiritual writer. Beyond her background in the tech industry at Facebook, Apple, and Zoom, she has become a trusted voice in the realms of astrology, twin flame journeys, and soul healing.

Her books—available in print, ebook, and Audible audiobook formats online and at your local bookstore—have received exceptional reviews for their clarity and empathy, guiding readers through the complexities of inner child healing, twin flame connections, and spiritual awakening.

Her work explores the synchronicities, challenges, and breakthroughs of the twin flame connection, weaving together astrology, energy awareness, and spiritual growth. Through her writing, Susye helps readers recognize the cosmic patterns guiding their relationships, encouraging them to see divine timing, alignment, and purpose in their soul connections.

On her site, SincerelySusye.com, she shares astrology insights, intuitive guidance, and healing practices for those navigating the intense yet transformative path of twin flames—offering light, clarity, and hope to seekers everywhere.