For most of my life, I felt the crushing pressure to fit into a box. Strength. Dominance. Independence at all costs. But my story isn’t just about failing to fit in. It’s about something deeper.

An Unwelcomed Begining As children, we often do reckless things. Growing up, I loved playing in the woods with my friends. We used to explore trails and build forts. Once, we even made a fire and pretended we were camping overnight. Despite my father's warnings about the dangers of fire, my friends dared me to touch a burning log, promising acceptance into their group if I did. Little did I know that this so-called "club" was filled with manipulative and abusive individuals, which sparked the fire of my sexual abuse at six.

Trauma runs deep. It imprints your mind, impacts your body, and immobilizes your emotions. For many survivors, the pain lingers, whispering lies like “You’re unworthy” or “You’re broken.” But there’s hope. Talking won’t erase the trauma, but it breaks its power. For much of my life, pain was my constant companion. From the age of six until seventeen, I endured the unspeakable trauma of sexual abuse. At the same time, I lived in a home marked by physical and verbal abuse from my parents, who were supposed to protect me. They exchanged safety and nurturing for fear and shame, with nowhere to turn. My family’s dynamic only deepened the wounds. I grew up surrounded by narcissistic family members who denied my reality and weaponized my pain. They silenced me with blame, making me feel that speaking out was a betrayal. My hurt became their tool—a means to control me and invalidate my experiences.