The Pain of Déjà Vu (Part Two): Healing While You're Still Deciding

There are certain words that can completely change the direction of a conversation. Submission is one of them. The moment the word enters the room, people tend to have a reaction. Some people immediately become defensive. Others become curious. Some view it as a beautiful part of a healthy relationship, while others see it as outdated, controlling, or even dangerous. What fascinates me about the word submission is that most people react before they even define it. We hear the word and instantly attach our own experiences, fears, and assumptions to it. For some women, submission sounds like losing your voice. For others, it sounds like sacrificing your independence. For some, it brings back memories of unhealthy relationships where leadership looked more like control. And for others, it simply feels like a role they have no interest in playing. But what if submission isn't actually the problem? What if the real issue is the type of leadership people have experienced? As I've gotten older, my perspective on submission has changed significantly. When I was younger, I thought submission meant putting someone else's needs above my own. I believed it meant following, agreeing, accommodating, and making sure the person I loved was happy no matter what. Looking back now, I wouldn't call that healthy submission.  

Family baggage is one of those things that most of us don't realize we're carrying until we're older. When we're children, our family dynamics simply feel normal. The way our parents communicate. The way conflict is handled. The expectations placed on us. The things we're allowed to talk about and the things we're taught to keep quiet. We don't stop to question any of it because it's all we've ever known. It's usually not until adulthood that we begin to notice the weight of what we've inherited. Maybe it shows up in our relationships. Maybe it shows up in how we parent. Maybe it appears in the way we handle conflict, avoid difficult conversations, struggle to set boundaries, or feel guilty for prioritizing ourselves. Suddenly, we're faced with the realization that some of the habits, beliefs, and behaviors we've carried into adulthood didn't actually start with us. They were passed down. That realization can be uncomfortable because many of us love our families deeply. We don't want to feel like we're criticizing the people who raised us. We don't want to sound ungrateful. But I think there's a difference between blaming our families and honestly acknowledging the ways they shaped us.  

The Foundation of a Healthy Relationship Relationships are hard. And I don't say that negatively, I say it honestly. I think social media has made relationships look polished, effortless, romantic, and perfectly put together all the time. But after being with my partner for 28 years, I can confidently say that healthy relationships are built through work, growth, grace, communication, and a whole lot of learning. That's what inspired this conversation on Sherley's Show. I wanted to talk openly about what truly creates the foundation of a healthy relationship, not just from a romantic perspective, but through friendships, family relationships, and even work relationships too.  

Dating in 2025 honestly feels overwhelming. Everywhere you look, social media is telling people what relationships should look like, what a "real man" should provide, what a "soft life" is supposed to be, and what women or men should expect financially before a relationship even begins. As someone who has been in a relationship for 28 years, I know our generation dated very differently. We didn't grow up with Instagram, TikTok, or relationship podcasts constantly influencing how we viewed love. So while I may not personally know what it feels like to date in 2025, I do know what it takes to maintain a long-term relationship through real life, hard seasons, growth, sacrifice, and change. And honestly? Some of the messages being pushed online today concern me.  

There's a certain kind of exhaustion that comes not from the first heartbreak, but from the one that feels familiar. The kind where you don't just feel pain… you recognize it. When we left off, the conversation was still raw. The emotions were still fresh. But something subtle had shifted in the weeks that followed. Not clarity, not resolution, but a different kind of awareness. Because when you're standing in the middle of a relationship you're not sure you're staying in or leaving, the question becomes less about what's next and more about who you are becoming while you're here.

There are certain conversations that don't come easily. Not because we don't have the words, but because the words carry weight. This is one of those conversations. Infidelity is something that often gets reduced to a single moment, a mistake, a betrayal, a line crossed. But what we don't talk about enough is what happens when it isn't just once. What happens when it becomes a pattern? When forgiveness has already been given. When the work has already been done. And yet, somehow, you find yourself right back in the same place. "This is the third time." There's something about that sentence that changes everything. The first time, you can call it a mistake. You can wrap it in grace, in newness, in the belief that people are still figuring things out. The second time, it becomes something to fix. You lean into therapy, into communication, into the hope that if you just work hard enough, love intentionally enough, you can rebuild what was broken.  

The Risk Beneath the Role Raising a child you didn't create requires a quiet kind of courage. You're choosing to show up consistently, emotionally, physically, sometimes financially, without the built-in certainty that biology tends to provide. There's no guarantee of how you'll be seen or remembered. And there may come a moment, especially in the teenage years, where that child reminds you, "you're not my parent." That moment can sting, not because it's untrue, but because of everything you've given leading up to it. But pain doesn't equal pathology. Feeling hurt in a vulnerable role doesn't make someone irrational, it makes them invested. The mistake is labeling that emotional risk as something broken, rather than recognizing it as part of the complexity of human relationships.  

Cancel culture, boundaries, and healthy conflict Disagreement is a natural and unavoidable part of any relationship. Whether in friendships, dating, family, or even the workplace, differing opinions are bound to arise. However, in today's culture, disagreement often leads to something more immediate. What's commonly referred to as cancel culture has expanded beyond public figures and into everyday life. It shows up in subtle but impactful ways: ghosting instead of communicating, blocking instead of resolving, and cutting people off without offering clarity. This shift raises an important question: When is distance a healthy boundary, and when is it simply avoidance?

Six core pillars, real-life lessons, and the habits that build longevity Long-term relationships aren't sustained by luck or constant "good vibes." They last because two people choose to keep building, through growth, setbacks, and seasons that test the connection. In this episode of Sherley's Show, Sherley and Kalief reflect on what has helped them maintain a relationship approaching three decades, including the hard lessons learned through real challenges. Be a guest: https://sherleysshow.com/listeners

Some people talk to their friends every single day. Some people go months without checking in and then pick up like nothing happened. And honestly? Both can be healthy, as long as everyone's on the same page. In this episode, Kira and I sat down to talk about friendships: what we expect, what we don't, what we've learned, and why "being a good friend" doesn't always look like constant communication.