I always felt everything deeply. Every shift, every loss, every unspoken emotion in the room. But for most of my life, I didn’t understand why.
I grew up in a loving home—until, one day, everything changed. When I was about 10, my mother was held at gunpoint. In an instant, safety became an illusion. My family fractured. My mother became trapped in fear. My father withdrew. The warmth of my childhood faded, replaced by uncertainty.
By 15, I was faced with a choice no girl should have to make—stay in an abusive home or walk away with nothing. My sister and I left. I was angry. I was scared. But more than anything, I knew I could never look back.
That was my first initiation. The moment I learned that survival requires trust—not in others, but in myself.