I’ve lived many lives in one— My story didn’t begin easy; it began with generational addiction, trauma, and a deep sense of not belonging. I was born into a lineage where pain passed hands like tradition, and like those before me, I lost myself in the darkness before I ever had a chance to discover who I truly was.

For years, I’ve carried a deep urge to share my truth. Not for attention—but for understanding, healing, connection, and peace. I’ve spent much of my life feeling isolated and disconnected, often believing I had to silence my story just to be accepted.

But I’ve learned something vital: if I want a life filled with authenticity, love, and clarity, I have to take responsibility for removing what stands in the way—even if that means confronting fear, shame, or old beliefs that no longer serve me.

This is me choosing to move forward instead of staying stuck.

I’ve started this journey many times—only to stop when the voice in my head whispered, “Say less. Share less. Be smaller. The less they know, the less they can judge.” That voice has kept me quiet for too long. I’ve been judged in ways that scarred my spirit and punished in ways that disconnected me from one of the deepest loves in my life—my children.

The fear is still real. But my need for connection is stronger. My desire to heal is louder. And my right to be fully seen is worth the risk.

I’m here now—imperfect, evolving, and choosing to speak, to grow, to connect. And if my story resonates with you, I hope you’ll stay a while. Maybe we’ll find what we’ve both been looking for

Let them judge—it’s usually just guilt in disguise, wearing confidence like a costume

Those quickest to judge often guard the heaviest secrets—

Self-destructive patterns and emotional turbulence carved trenches in my life. My childhood was unstable, unsafe, and often unexplainably lonely. I didn’t just inherit wounds—I absorbed them, lived them, and for many years, unknowingly passed them on. I became the very thing I swore I never would, and that is a pain I live with daily—especially as a mother whose children have been alienated from her life. That loss is indescribable, but I am learning to carry it with grace, accountability, and deep love.

This is a story about waking up—sometimes abruptly, sometimes slowly—to who I really am beneath all the layers of survival. It’s taken me 44 years to uncover the truth buried under shame, fear, and silence. What I’ve found is this: I am not my pain. I am not my past. I am not the worst things I’ve done or the worst things that have been done to me.

I am love. I am growth. I am fire and tenderness wrapped in one.

Today, I walk a path of radical self-awareness, compassion, and purpose. I still struggle. I still overthink. I still feel grief in my bones some days. But I no longer walk blind. I understand where my pain comes from, and that understanding has given me power. Power to choose differently. Power to heal. Power to live without judgment—for myself or others.

I crave connection with real, authentic souls—people who know life is messy and hard but show up anyway. People who’ve fallen, broken, rebuilt, and still believe in the power of kindness. If that’s you, then you’re my kind of people.

And if my story helps even one person feel seen, then every struggle has been worth it.