Come Join My Healing Community!
I grew up with trauma that didn’t end when childhood did. Abuse, chaos, addiction, grief… wounds that grow with you, shape you, sometimes try to swallow you whole. For years I wandered through survival mode like a ghost wearing my own face.
But now? I’m choosing healing. I want to share with you where I come from. I want to share my life and how I ended up where I am today. Because today, my life is beautiful.
If you are returning, welcome back! I am so happy to be healing with you!
If you are new to my page, please go to page 7 on the BLOG TAB. Start from the very first post, and just move up. I promise you won’t regret it
- Here, you’ll find bits of my journey:
- ✨ Spiritual Digging
- ✨ Christian Reflections
- ✨ Mental Health
- ✨Being a mom, while trying to fix yourself at the same time.
- ✨ Real, Raw, and Unfiltered path toward peace
Blog categories
Featured
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Side Post:
When I was around thirteen (8th grade), my father met another woman. For the first time since my mom died, something in the house shifted, there was a sense of […]
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What I Did With All That Pain 💊
There was a point where surviving wasn’t enough anymore. I had learned how to endure. How to stay quiet. How to stay alert. How to grow up faster than I […]
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🌻 The Father Wound — Post Six
Breaking the Curse Instead of Running From It I used to think breaking generational curses meant leaving. Leaving the people. Leaving the places. Leaving the memories. But God has been […]
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🌻A Healing Wildflower Open Thought:
Writing has become my sanctuary. My prayer journal spilled onto pages. My childhood, my trauma, my healing — all laid bare. And yet sometimes it feels like those words fall […]
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🌻 The Father Wound — Post 5
Reflection: Obedience Is Not the Same as Self-Abandonment For a long time, I thought obedience meant silence. I thought it meant enduring harm without protest. I thought it meant shrinking […]
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🌻 The Father Wound — Post 4
Reflection: Grieving a Father Who Is Still Alive There is a kind of grief that doesn’t stay in the past. It breathes. It watches. It waits. I am not writing […]