My 13-year-old daughter Sydney recently had me laughing to the point of tears with an impression of what she calls my “space out” moments. She mimicked me starting a sentence, stopping mid-thought, then staring into the distance. Her twin sister, Riley, said, “‘Mom,’ finish your sentence.”

I constantly fight an invisible battle to wrangle quirks or issues and show up as my best self. Let’s call it writer’s brain, where I endlessly squirrel, my mind scampering down different paths, until I eventually snap back to the present moment, usually to exasperated faces.

It’s a survival reflex born in a chaotic childhood. Sometimes coping mechanisms help us endure difficult circumstances as children but become habits we need to unlearn as adults.

Before having kids, I did the work to become a self-regulated adult, but I’m still trying to keep my mind in the room where my feet are. What I love is when my daughters call me out on it. In our house, everyone is welcome to speak up. Even the adults get held accountable. We want our daughters to have strong voices.

My commitment to raise my daughters differently began decades before they were born. I knew I wouldn’t become a mom unless I could parent differently from how I was parented.

When I was a teenager, I made a decision that would shape the rest of my life. I remember the moment with clarity. Night had fallen on a scary afternoon with my adoptive parents. Tears streamed down my face as I stared out the window and made a promise to myself.

This ends with me.

I didn’t have all the words for it then. I couldn’t rattle off terms like “cycle breaker” or “generational trauma.” I simply knew I didn’t want to carry the pain I had experienced into the next chapter of my life. If I ever became a parent, I said to myself, I would do everything in my power to create something different.

Looking back, I realize that moment was a turning point.

My journey wasn’t linear. Before getting married and having a family, I had chapters of missteps, seasons where I undervalued myself and times when I tried to fill empty spaces in unhealthy ways. But that promise never left me. It was like a personal mission statement, guiding future decisions and reminding me of how I wanted to show up. I would not become what hurt me. I would not allow my childhood to dictate my future. I would not pass the pain forward.

This single decision became the foundation upon which I built my adult life.

It led me to seek therapy early. I knew my adoptive parents had not modeled healthy relationships, communication or coping skills. I didn’t know all the ways my dysfunctional childhood had affected me, but I knew I needed help understanding and overcoming it. Therapy gave me clarity, healing and the tools to build a different life.

The process led to another decision that changed everything. I finished my search for my birth parents.

That choice led me to discover that my birth parents were married to one another and that I had a sister and brother fully genetically related to me. Overnight, my understanding of who I was expanded. It opened the door to many new family relationships.

It’s surreal to have a moment you can point to in life and say, “Because I did that, my life will never be the same.” I call my birth mom “Mom” now because it felt authentic.

A single decision can hold tremendous power. My promise as a teenager continues to shape how I show up as a mother every day. I’m intentional, responding instead of reacting. But I’m human and not afraid to apologize if my tone is impatient. And I laugh at myself when I struggle to stay fully present. I remind our daughters that they are so loved and none of us is perfect. (My therapist used to say, “You just need to be a good-enough parent.”)

Too often, we underestimate the impact of a single decision. Transformation might involve a lot of work, but it begins with a decision to be different, a moment of resolve.

Adversity can build us. Grief and anger fueled me to fight for myself. My parents claimed my childhood. I claimed my adulthood. Each adult has a life-changing choice to be different for the sake of their own lives and especially for their children.

We can choose to rise up. No one says you have to wake up and live the life you are handed. No one has to live life like they are just witnessing it. We aren’t a passive dumping ground. We are active participants in constructing our own lives.

When we all tell our children to “make good decisions,” our little parental chant has far-reaching consequences.

Today, as I prepare to celebrate 30 years since the first time I spoke to my (birth) mom at age 26, I’m reminded that many of the best things in my life began with a choice.

We often have more power than we realize. Maybe that’s what scares us. It might feel safer to tell ourselves that this is just how life is for us. But that’s a lie. We get to decide. I’m here to tell you that one decision can change everything.