The Cracked Foundation: Imprinting, Brokenness, and the Demand for More

We are born into a system—not of our making, not of our choosing—and from our first breath, we are shaped by forces beyond our control. Imprinting is not a choice; it is an inevitability. The child imprints on the parent, the parent on the child, and these early bonds become the blueprint for how we navigate the world. But what happens when that blueprint is flawed? When the foundation is cracked before the structure has even begun to rise?

We live in a world where the formative experiences of our earliest years determine not just who we are but how we can be. A child raised in a home of neglect, inconsistency, or emotional dissonance will carry those fractures into adulthood, often unaware of the depth of their impact. This isn’t just about “influence” in the superficial sense; it’s about the fundamental architecture of the self. And once that architecture is warped, it’s not as simple as tearing it down and starting over.

The Illusion of Resilience

We love stories of resilience—the phoenix rising from the ashes, the broken finding beauty in their scars. But beneath this romanticized narrative is a brutal truth: not everyone rises. Some remain in the ashes, not because they lack will or strength, but because the damage runs too deep. The risen ashes have reassembled their wounds a thousand times in a thousand different ways. The world is filled with people quietly carrying burdens they never asked for, trapped in patterns they can’t escape.

Yet, society insists on celebrating the few who “overcome” as if survival is synonymous with success. This narrative comforts us because it suggests that suffering is both inevitable and noble—a rite of passage that deepens our character. But what if it’s not? What if suffering, in many cases, is just suffering, leaving behind nothing but wreckage?

Fragility in the Face of Chaos

Consider this: how can such a fragile system—the human psyche—possibly stand against the chaotic multiplicity of the world? It almost feels like a cosmic joke. Our minds, shaped by early experiences, are expected to weather the storms of trauma, loss, and existential uncertainty. But they weren’t designed for this. They were shaped in environments that, for many, were already hostile long before the external world had its say.

The metaphor of a plant in a malformed box is apt. No matter how much sunlight or water you provide, the plant’s growth has already been constrained. Its stem is twisted, its potential forever altered. And while it may continue to grow, it will never become what it should have been. This isn’t a call to pity—it’s a recognition of reality. Some damage can’t be undone.

Rejecting the Romanticization of Brokenness

But here’s where the narrative shifts. The tragic beauty of brokenness—the idea that scars are inherently valuable—no longer holds the same allure. We should not have to be broken to find meaning or connection. We should not have to claw our way out of trauma to be considered “deep” or “authentic.”

What if the true goal isn’t to find beauty in the aftermath of suffering but to prevent the suffering in the first place? To create environments—in our homes, communities, and within ourselves—that nurture stability, love, and growth without the prerequisite of pain?

Imagine a greenhouse, where each plant is carefully tended to every day, where growth is supported, and potential is realized without distortion. Contrast this with the brutalist impositions of an uncaring environment that forces malformation. The difference isn’t just aesthetic—it’s existential.

The Radical Demand for Wholeness

Daring to demand more is not naive; it’s revolutionary. Refusing to accept brokenness as the default is an act of defiance against a world that too often thrives on dysfunction. This isn’t about utopian fantasies or unrealistic expectations—it’s about rejecting the normalization of trauma and the glorification of resilience as the ultimate virtue.

We must assert that the world, as fractured as it is, is not the way it has to be. The systems that perpetuate harm—whether in families, institutions, or societal norms—are not immutable. They can be challenged, restructured, and replaced.

But this requires more than just critique; it demands action. It means refusing to align with anyone or anything that normalizes brokenness. It means creating spaces where love flows from abundance, not scarcity; where stability is the norm, not the exception.

The Cost of Complicity

We cannot accept world’s brokenness as inevitable, or we become complicit in its perpetuation. The narratives that romanticize struggle, the institutions that profit from dysfunction, and the people who shrug and say, “That’s just how life is,” all contribute to a system that expects us to grow around cages and call it beautiful.

But we can choose otherwise. We can refuse to be moulded by forces that do not have our best interests at heart. We can insist on creating environments where wholeness is possible, where love doesn’t have to fight through layers of damage to reach the surface.

The Unyielding Vision

I refuse and refute all other visions of the world. Anyone trying to create a world that normalizes or perpetuates brokenness is no ally of mine.

This is not a call for perfection but a call for possibility. It’s an insistence that we do not have to accept the terms we’ve been given. We can demand more—for ourselves, for each other, and for the generations to come.

The first step is refusal. The second is creation. Begin.